Lotus can be picked in the south of the Yangtze River, and there are fields of lotus leaves. There are two carp in it, playing among the blue waves.
The aroma of various rice cakes in the shop wafts out, flying in the air sweetly, attracting those who are greedy.
Zhang Qiling stopped and looked at the fat white pastries in the shop. The dots of red beans on them were so exciting that he couldn't help but buy some.
It feels a little hot in the hand, but I can't bear to throw it away. Instead, I want to hold it in my hand and eat it in my mouth, so as to retain the fragrance and warmth.
"Do you want lotus pods, little brother?" The voice came from the side. It was Wu Nong's soft words unique to this place, but it was not the same as the ones he heard before, and it was even softer.
The story is like an ink painting, and their love is like a colorful picture painted with pen and ink.
Intention: