One morning, before the mountain mist had completely dissipated, my grandfather and I went up the mountain to check if the traps we had set a few days earlier had caught any pheasants or rabbits. As we were wandering around, I saw someone waving at me from behind a tree. I was about to wave back when my grandfather suddenly put down the listless pheasant he had just caught from the trap, covered my mouth tightly with one hand, and put his other arm around me, tiptoing backward. We retreated all the way to the foot of the mountain, where we encountered villagers carrying hoes to work in the fields. Only then did he catch his breath, and then he hurriedly led me home.
