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