"The Secret Realm of Huize: A 10-kilometer Hike to Meet the Wrinkles of Time"

We set off before the morning mist had dissipated, with a backpack filled with mineral water and anticipation for the unknown. The mountain road of Huize Old Factory is like rice paper crumpled by time, and the wrinkles contain the sounds of countless lives growing. Ten kilometers is not a number, but the rhythm of the alternating soft carpet of pine needles and gravel road, and the whisper of beech trees brought by the wind passing by your ears. When the first ray of sunlight penetrated the primeval forest canopy and hit the river surface, the entire ditch suddenly came alive. Billions of years of geological movement have been paused here. The huge rocks look like sleeping elephants or scattered chess pieces on a chessboard, and moss has left mottled ink marks in the cracks of the rocks. Take off your hiking shoes and step into the shallows. The rough texture of the granite hurts your feet, like reading a wordless book engraved in stone. The river water rushed in, carrying the body temperature of the snow-capped mountains, forming thousands of silver chains in the Stonehenge. I leaned over to scoop up some water, and tiny bits of sunlight were flowing in the lines of my palm, so cool that it went straight to my heart. Those pebbles, polished into round shapes by the water, shimmer with a jade-like luster in the waves, like lost buttons of the earth. Occasionally, a dead branch would get stuck in the crevices of the rocks, and in the blink of an eye, it would be rolled into a swirling pen tip by the turbulent current, writing a fleeting cursive calligraphy on the surface of the river. The chirping of tits suddenly broke the silence. Looking up, I saw a few clusters of wild azaleas on the hundred-meter-high rock wall, spreading their rouge color into the clouds. I rested my backpack on the warm rocks, watched water striders draw concentric circles in the mirror-like bay, and vaguely heard the sound of quartzite layers slowly growing deep inside. On the way back, a sudden mountain rain came, and the raindrops stirred up thousands of transparent bells on the river surface. Those silent boulders looked even greener in the rain, like ancient spirits guarding a secret place. On the ten-kilometer journey back, my trouser legs were splashed with mud like a pass stamped with seals - in this dialogue with the mountains and rivers, the stones ultimately remembered my body temperature, and the flowing water took away my reflection. (Postscript: When the city is burning in your palm, there are always some mountains and rivers willing to be your cool patch. The river ditch of Huize Old Factory is not as meticulously crafted as the popular attractions on the Internet, but it has the most authentic texture of the earth. It is recommended to wear river trekking shoes to go there, and let the rocks and water tell you the manuscript of the creator.) Huize Yibo Hotel (Huize Ancient City Huize Park Branch)