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