Ban Xia looked up at the surrounding environment; she was encircled by towering buildings, with lush vegetation all around.
To her left was building 15, to her right, building 17— a small path weaved its way between the two structures, flanked on both sides by dense shrubs so thick they were impenetrable, the air laden with an almost viscous plant scent.
Plants breathe, too—they photosynthesize, they respire. It might be slow, faint, and imperceptible, but when you find yourself in a world engulfed, bound, and wildly overgrown by plants, you realize that they merge into one massive organism. This entity, with billions of pores all over its body, every single one respiring, takes such long breaths with each inhale that it feels like they'll never end.
Ban Xia stood where she had just pulled down a tree trunk. She squatted down, grabbed a wrench, and anchored a wooden hook upside down into the ground, hammering it violently until only the hook's curve peeked above the surface.
