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