The service was average. There wasn't a single staff member in sight, and there was no food available, so I simply took photos. I walked along the stone path. The surrounding scenery, while beautiful, seemed desolate and neglected. Weeds sprouted from the cracks in the rocks, and the paint on the statues had long since peeled, leaving only mottled traces. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves, whispering of the desolation.
I reached a pavilion and found a tattered guestbook in the corner. I flipped open the yellowed pages, filled with complaints and disappointments from tourists. Someone mentioned that this place was once a popular attraction, but later declined due to poor management. I closed the book and looked up at the distant mountains. The setting sun cast its last rays on the crumbling eaves, creating a desolate and majestic beauty. Perhaps it is this forgotten loneliness that gives this scenery its unique charm.