Even after 18 years of spring and autumn, I can still remember the scenery of the grassland. The continuous warm drizzle washed away the summer dust. The hillsides are green and turquoise, and the flowering mango grass is winding and undulating under the golden wind in October. The winding thin clouds cling to the blue sky as if it were frozen stiff. Staring at the vast sky, I felt a dull pain in my eyes. The breeze caressed the grass, slightly touched her hair, and soon blew away to the miscellaneous woods. The leaves on the top of the tree rustled, and the barking of the dog came from far to near. It was as subtle as coming from the entrance of another world.