#TraditionalCulture #TraditionalStory #Children'sStory

Walking one hundred and twenty steps west from the small hill, I passed through a grove of bamboo.
Through the bamboo, I heard the murmuring of water — clear and melodious, like the gentle clinking of hanging jewels — and my heart filled with joy.
I cut down a few bamboo stalks to open a narrow path and then came to the edge of a small pond, where the water was extraordinarily pure and fresh.
The entire bottom of the pond was paved with stones.
Along the banks, some rocks stood upright while others curved and bent, forming small islands, reefs, cliffs, and ridges.
Green trees and dense vines intertwined and swayed, covering one another in a harmonious yet graceful disorder.