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