There are more than ten acres of land around the house in Fiona Fang, and there are 89 huts and huts.
Elms and willows are hidden on the back eaves, and peach trees and plum trees are neatly planted in front of the house.
Houses in neighboring villages are faintly visible, and smoke from kitchen chimneys is floating over the village.
There were several barks from the streets and lanes, and the rooster kept crowing at the top of the mulberry tree.
There are no worldly chores in the yard, and there is plenty of comfort and leisure in the quiet room.
Trapped in a cage for a long time without freedom, I finally returned to Forest Mountain today.