Jingmai Mountain Sea of Clouds

Before dawn breaks, I climbed up to the Jingmai Mountain viewing platform. Beneath my feet, thousands of peaks and valleys were swallowed by the sea of clouds, leaving only the tips of tea trees like isolated islands floating above the white waves. Where the wind passed, the clouds surged like galloping horses, or like light silk rolling gently, sometimes wrapping the gnarled branches of ancient tea trees, sometimes letting through strands of golden light, bathing the moss and vines in a warm glow. When the morning sun leapt out of the clouds, the sea of clouds turned into flowing golden silk. In the embrace of light and mist, the tea forest shed its haze, revealing greens of varying depths. Occasionally, a mountain bird would skim through the clouds, its wing tips dusted with flecks of gold, its call falling into the sea of clouds, adding a touch of clarity. Sometimes, a village would peek out from the mist, its eaves blending with the smoke and clouds, as if accidentally stepping into an ink wash scroll. The sea of clouds over Jingmai Mountain is never noisy, but with the gentlest posture, it enfolds the mountains, tea forests, and villages in its embrace. Standing in this earthly paradise, even breathing slows down, as if I too have become a cloud flake, wandering with the wind between heaven and earth.