Chan Muchi nodded, his gaze tracing the undulating fields stretching before them. "Qinghe has always held a stillness, a place where time remains frozen. Each visit feels like an expedition through our family's chronicles."
Chen Miao, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon, spoke softly, her voice heavy with longing. "It feels as if our roots are entwined within these swaying grasslands and the ambling cattle."
Their mellow sounds intertwined with the soothing symphony of nature—a harmonious chorus of rustling leaves, the soft hum of insects, and the distant flow of a nearby stream. The air was infused with the earthy scent of the countryside, carrying hints of blooming flowers and the promise of a serene day ahead.
Chan Juan, slowly regaining her composure, breathed in the crisp, clean air, the discomfort of the bus journey now a distant memory. She cast a curious gaze around, taking in the picturesque surroundings of Qinghe.