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