The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
There is a bridge over the creek,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
into the stream,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
Watching the outside world carefully,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
The flowers follow the breeze,
look around,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
like a mirage,
The stream is microwaved,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
As if singing the symphony of spring,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
looming, smoky,
rter of an hour,
sometimes lift it up,
danced lightly,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
Pieces of green in different shades,
crystal clear,
Bend it now and then,
like a paradise on earth,