That mountain, that cloud, that forest, that gurgling fountain

A young man and a group of friends were walking on an endless road. The road leads to a barren, rock-strewn plain. The poisonous fire of the sun scorched from morning to night, they couldn't find a shady place everywhere, and the shrill wind swept up a huge mist of dust. The young man seemed a little anxious and walked all the way ahead. His parched throat was like a cruel torture, and he asked himself, or his companions from time to time, where on the pilgrimage they were going, but the answer was never certain, always the same. He himself had forgotten why he embarked on this journey, he even forgot the land where he was born and grew up, and the destination of the journey. One evening, he suddenly found himself in the middle of a forest. The dusk was rising, and everything was silent. Perhaps only a sigh was uttered when the evening breeze brushed the tall trees. He stood there with a surprised expression, a hint of tension and doubt in his expression, and he was the only one around. He also found that what he heard was not very clear, the relentless light of the day made his ears red and inflamed, his mouth and throat were burning from this long Hajj journey, and his lips were cracked, even if I wanted to curse, but I couldn't make a sound. There was water flowing, but he couldn't hear it. He couldn't see the reflection of the sunset on the water. He was standing beside a spring, but because he was deaf and blind, he didn't notice the existence of the spring. Like a sleepwalker, he stepped into the sparkling puddle. Fortunately, although he was blind, his heart was not disturbed. With his outstanding ability, he quickly came ashore again, and was illuminated by the scorching and shadeless light again.
Another night, he sat by the campfire next to an old man who was telling the children stories of forests and springs. The young man remembered the past experience, but the memory seemed hazy. If it was Nan Ke Yimeng, he turned to the old man and asked humbly and doubtfully, "Where does that water come from?" The top of the mountain is covered by a huge cloud, and that is where the water source is." The young man continued to ask, "What kind of cloud?" The old man replied, "Everyone has his own hopes, fears and desires. A person either shouts out his depression, or bears it silently in his heart. Some people pray to God and worship Buddha, while others cry in front of nothingness. These despairs, hopes, dreams of breaking free from shackles, all kinds of crying, dripping tears, Collected for thousands of years, they condensed into the clouds that cover the mountains and boundless friends. Outside the clouds, the rainwater flows along the mountains, and then gathers into rolling streams, which eventually become rivers that pass through the forest. The spring water will quench your thirst, wash your burnt and parched face, and cool your tired and blistered feet. At some point, the world will hear the story of this mountain, cloud, stream, and spring, but most people will continue to worry about it. Exposed to the scorching sun, rushing on this dusty land." The young man was very surprised, and asked, "Why do they continue to travel?" The old man replied: "I don't know, maybe they persuaded themselves and others to believe that before the evening , you will definitely arrive at that unknown destination." "What unknown destination?" the young man asked. The old man shrugged, "This so-called destination is probably just a void at all, or a trap, or an illusion. Today, I am also walking on the road to find that forest, that source. When I was young, I once I was fortunate enough to set foot in it, and now I just want to find the way back, but let me tell you, it's not easy!"
The next day, the young man and the old man set off together and set foot on the search for that mountain, that cloud, that forest, And the journey of that bubbling source...

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