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