The valley was silent, surrounded by lush green trees, the sounds of small animals rustling were drowned out by the wind, and only occasionally could a roar or chirping be heard.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
In a small, rustic wooden house, a graceful woman wielded a hatchet, splitting firewood with each swing, cleaving each piece of wood in two.
She looked up at the golden expanse of millet ahead, brilliant and beautiful, and when birds occasionally fluttered by, a trace of envy would flash through her eyes.
The charm between her brows carried a hint of sorrow. Glancing at the time, it was already breakfast time, and the porridge in the kitchen had cooked very thin.
Standing up, the sound of clanging chains rang out. Her left foot was connected to a heavy metal chain, with the other end linked to a metal ball. Struggling with the weight, she dragged the metal ball into the kitchen.
