Beyond the mountains lie more green mountains, beyond the towers more towers.
When will the songs and dances by West Lake ever end?
The warm breeze intoxicates the travelers,
who mistake Hangzhou for Bianzhou.
I don't know how to write a blurb, so I'll just write a little something.
I've put this poem here for everyone to read.
Big, you have dug a lot of holes, but you are not working hard to fill them. Come on.
I guess so. It's just a pit for a year.
The beginning of time travel without too much nonsense~ It's just that the segmentation looks a bit tired. I'll adjust the line spacing next time~