After who knew how long, the carriage slowly emerged from that stretch of mountain forest shrouded in dense mist. Beneath the wheels, the slick moss and scattered rocks gradually gave way, and the scenery outside the window grew clearer bit by bit.
The fog from before trailed away in wisps, retreating and thinning, until at last only a few light veils of haze clung to the distant mountain waist.
The long-missed daylight spilled down without hindrance, lighting up the verdant pines and cypresses by the roadside. Far off, the bluish-green ridges rolled and rose, their outlines sharp against the sky.
Inside the carriage, Miss Donggong lay on the window ledge, watching the scenery slide backward, and now and then turned to look at those mountains.
"It's all foggy in there. A lot of people died."
Her thoughts were simple; this remark was a sort of half-bewildered, half-earnest sigh.
