Once, an old friend arrived at my doorstep looking quite distinctive: wearing a grey multi-pocket vest, a canteen hanging from his neck, a massive trekking backpack, and a pair of muddy canvas shoes dangling from the backpack straps. He is a veteran traveler who has traversed countless landscapes. To him, overcrowded tourist attractions and over-developed urban areas are nothing but "dead zones." In recent years, he has preferred wandering alone through remote, unheard-of regions. On that occasion, he stopped by my house after spending several days in the mountains of Shennongjia. After washing up, he hung his towel by the stove. A relative visiting my home noticed the old, thin towel and whispered to me, "With him looking like that, does he even have the luxury of wandering around?" I wanted to tell them that this friend is a very wealthy man, but then I realized they might not understand this kind of wealth, so I remained silent.
