In the wasteland where chaos first emerged, miasma was permeating the air and ferocious beasts were roaming around. The tribesmen struggled to survive amid barrenness and danger. She came out of the mist, carrying a glimmer of light, and carried the livelihood of her people on her soft shoulders. She burns pottery, cultivates fertile fields, and builds houses. She uses her wisdom to resolve famine and severe cold. She identifies medicines and detoxifies, appeases her tribe, and resists foreign enemies. She uses her tenacity to dispel fear and despair. On the land overgrown with weeds, smoke gradually rises; in the fragmented tribe, the power of unity slowly gathers together. She has seen bloody fights, but also encountered warm and pure help. In the game with nature and the running-in with the ethnic group, she turned the barrenness into fertile soil, allowing hope to take root and sprout in the ancient land, and spent her life writing a splendid chapter belonging to the women of the wilderness.
