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