Chapter One: The End of the Beginning — The Observer's Anchor
At the rightmost end of the scroll, everything begins with a focused backward glance.
Behind the traveler, the high mountain resembles a giant bird, its mechanical tail feathers spreading open amidst the clouds. The cliffside path winds around the bird's head, leading his consciousness upstream to the left. To the right of the giant bird, the world comes to a sudden halt — the limit where logic is exhausted. Below the path are several strange trees: some crowns are groups of "tree-turtles" with shells embedded with jewels; others are a cluster of factories, with Chinese-style buildings interspersed among dense chimneys, appearing somewhat eerie.
He wears a long robe, hands behind his back. He is the initiator of the entire mirror ritual.
This is the start of the observation system's self-referentiality. The traveler stares at these semi-biological, semi-mechanical structures as if looking into a chaotic mirror. He "sees" so that the entire world may collapse; he must confirm that he is the self-determined variable of observation. The world gains shape because of his backward glance, just as an image in a mirror gains a false depth because of the viewer's presence.
Chapter Two: The Hidden Thief — Will in the Rock Strata
In the background, four pale slopes shaped like anteaters allow the mountain range to gradually rise. Those lying beasts are carved with exquisite, raised patterns. The foreground also extends; the pool in the valley turns into a waterfall in the near distance, and the rocks hit by the waterfall look like mechanical citadels. Fish-folk hide within them, some sitting, some lying, their expressions quite peaceful.
As the gaze moves leftward, the mountains become steep and aggressive. The main peak appears: a group of staggered, smooth rock platforms, gentler on the right, with steep and jagged cliffs on the left. Within the cliff, a distinct masked figure holding a short gun emerges; the rock platforms serve as his cloak, hiding him in the shadows as he leans slightly forward, cautiously, as if intending to steal something. This masked man is immense, part of his body already integrated with the rock. These complex structures are all basalt from the cracked cliffs. Above the main peak are faint distant mountains, very gentle, contrasting with the tension in the foreground; the distant mountains are transformed into ethereal wandering fish.
Presumably, he is a facet of the traveler's mental image: he wants to analyze everything, comprehend everything, and transform everything, yet he remains alert to the resistance and backlash of nature. He is a fire-stealer.
Chapter Three: The Hollow Meditation Room — Parts as Observers
As the fire-stealer's gaze moves left, there is another slightly lower peak. One can see it is also made of basalt, as the white rocks are sharply angled, transformed into half a dilapidated factory; another set of rocks is very orderly, looking like five white hounds standing side by side. The lower part is a bare, hemispherical rock platform, transformed into the steel helmet of a giant beast; in the shadows beside the beast hide Western or Persian colonnades. Fish-folk dwell within these structures, some in factory turbines, some in aircraft cockpits, and some hidden in the whorls of spiral shells. White fish act as gentle slopes for the rocks.
To the left of the peak, low-lying rocks are transformed into a pale dinosaur, but the shadow of its belly hides a five-story playground, with ladders running through the levels, as well as swimming pools and tents. The fish-folk inside do not seem to be playing but are sitting quietly, meditating toward the clouds rolling in the valley to the left.
These fish-folk are secondary observers nested within the system, struggling to comprehend within the traveler's mental image — but what can they comprehend? Even the rocks are struggling to simulate the forms of life to possess a pair of eyes to observe the world. Observation becomes a relay: we look at the traveler, the traveler looks at the fish-folk, the fish-folk look at the rocks, and the rocks look at the void. Each layer is the mental image of the one before, forming a continuous, infinite mirror gallery.
Chapter Four: The Black Pupil at the Source — The System's Closed Loop
Further left, there is a vast deep valley. The churning clouds in the valley fill almost the entire space of the scroll, with several sheer peaks appearing like monuments inscribed with alien scripts.
Finally, the scroll reaches the giant peak on the left — the beginning of all things and the end of the backward glance. The mountain body protruding to the right resembles a head; on its side, there seems to be a gaunt face with deep-sunken eye sockets and prominent cheekbones, pulling at taut muscles. Further left, layers of basalt are transformed into massive, overlapping faces whose features are composed of ancient marine creatures. At the summit of the peak are lush groves of trees; the groves are dark, and upon closer inspection, they are a group of craggy beasts carrying exquisite, hollowed-out crowns. In the shadows below the giant peak are an ancient temple and a Buddhist pagoda. They sit on rocks that look like giant shells from an ancient ocean, embedded into a set of cyber-spaceships from the future. In the cockpit of the spaceship, semi-fish, semi-bird "fish-folk" still seem to be operating the machinery.
Is this the truth of "Wonder Among the Cliffside Clouds"? In those deep-sunken black eye sockets, the traveler sees his own reflection. The entire scroll forms a closed loop; this massive head composed of ancient organisms is the most grand simulation of the observer by the material world. What they do to us is exactly what we do to them; our wills are joined head-to-tail until they close, finally solidifying into the same entity.
The Mirror Says:
