In the early morning, the verdant branches and foliage flaunt the freshness of early spring. A dense obsidian cloud loomed like an enormous hat, adhered to the summits of two towering edifices. The airborne raindrops lingered, arrested in midair, unable to descend. Exiting the cafeteria, I experienced a satisfying belch, and the rich saline aroma of scorching dry noodles permeated my being. Revitalized, I hastened towards the circular path within the woodland, eager to conclude the initial lesson of “get moving” in front of the rain-drenched mountain, around two or three o’clock. The zephyr caressed beneath my feet, while thoughts brewed like simmering porridge in my mind. “Quack, quack, quack,”…