One rice and one scene, one autumn and one year.

On a sunny morning, birds began to sing among the branches. Looking up at the blue sky, there are white clouds flowing slowly. In the endless rice fields outside the village, a breeze fell from the sky and floated to the rolling mountains.

Standing quietly in the depths of the rice field, watching the golden and charming rice waves dancing with the wind under the blue sky and white clouds, the intimate and familiar smell coming from the rice field is fragrant for a long time.

The wind blew fragrant rice and brushed away the dirt on me. This joy really ripples in my heart.

Those poor memories of childhood faded away in the bustling torrent of Fei Ying. I firmly believe that things will become more mellow and affectionate after they change in temperature.

Xiang Tao flows with the seasonal rivers, and the days float and sink in fireworks and dust. What we can live well is often not life, but ourselves.

Photography: law

Appearance: Miss Yuexi