The scorching sun is hot in the sky, the cicadas are singing and the frogs are hiding under the lotus in the pond.
Why are bees and butterflies tireless? The game between flowers is in a hurry.
Ask the sky if you know if you are infatuated? It's absurd that the clouds and smoke are full of paper.
Who can explain the chill in the small building? The window is full of spring and autumn poems with pen and ink. (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com