Chapter 1: Spring
The blazing red setting sun was like a ferocious beast plunging into an enraged sea, resplendent beyond compare, while the shadows of the peaks on the earth were grotesque and eerie, as if harboring unresolved sorrows.
Occasional gusts of wind and sand swept through, leaving no blade of grass alive; as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but undulating desolation.
In a mountain hollow, a group of miners toiled incessantly, discharging the excavated earth and rock from deep underground, filling one gully after another in the nearby mountains.
As dusk fell, the light gradually diminished, and the scorching heat softened.
Alert personnel secretly positioned around the valley work site began to cautiously emerge and look around.
A crude lounge chair, pieced together from scrap wood, was carried up to the mountain top by two people and set down.
On the chair sat a gaunt, cold-faced middle-aged man, prematurely aged. He squinted at the setting sun, raised a hand to wave away those beside him who showed signs of melancholy, as the wind ruffled his graying hair, revealing a sickly, weary appearance.
Yet, his clothing was the most presentable here.
It was merely a set of ordinary clothes.