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