Yin Cheng carried the polished iron ax and stepped on the fallen leaves of Qingfeng Mountain, humming a tune passed down from generation to generation by the people in the mountain. The sun has just passed noon, and the wind in the forest carries the fresh air of vegetation, which makes people feel comfortable. He is twenty-three years old. He is built with a strong back and a strong waist. His arms are thicker than the old locust trees in the village. He has a simple and round face. When he smiles, his eyes narrow into two slits, revealing two rows of neat white teeth. His parents left early, so he made a living by going to the mountains to cut firewood and go down to the rivers to fish. His temperament was as upright as the hardwood in the mountains, he accepted death, but his heart was very soft.
