The silky wind cut through the lips of the night, and a touch of orange-red mottled clouds seeped out of the cold sky. The gray mist still shrouded the dark mountain tops, and the rooster at dawn, with its shrill voice, crowed one after another down the dark gray hillside towards the white sky in the east. The spring under the hillside is silent and desolate. There are only a few newly built factories left on the fields, and the blue and white tiles look eye-catching and strange under the March spring light.
Conception: