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