An afternoon a month later, the sun in Beijing was warm and there was less chill in the air than usual. The streets were as bustling as ever, heralding this ancient city's prosperity. A taxi slowly left the outer ring road and traveled along a suburban highway to the vicinity of a mountain range. The road into the mountains was somewhat old, with lush large leaves of plane trees on both sides blocking the sunlight. The ground was covered in dappled light, all streaming through the gaps in the leaves, looking like golden butterflies dancing.
On the ground, some withered leaves lay quietly. As the taxi passed, they reluctantly chased after it, like playful, active children, but soon listlessly fell back to the ground. The taxi moved forward a bit further when a barrier blocked the way and a few security guards signaled to stop.
