I’ve learned that if I stepped out of the greenhouse, there would be a massive maze. Misty droplets floated in the air, making it impossible to see the distant scenery with just a lantern. The meticulously trimmed plants grew upwards, their lush branches forming walls. I would undoubtedly end up bruised and battered if I tried to force my way through them.
I venture into the green labyrinth to find a way out.
The maze was a sprawling network of verdant corridors, with towering hedges that seemed to stretch endlessly into the fog. Fortunately, the air was calm, and the tender grass gently caressed my bare feet. It wasn't long before my stray hairs were dampened by the mist, a clammy touch that reminded me of the tea gardens and the February wind.
The journey had just begun, but I hoped that I will be greeted by the rising sun and a clear, boundless sky at the exit.