On the ridge, the forest ridge goes down to the field, and the buttermilk herb is like a spring. The lights on the floor add new scenery, and the songs of small cities ring in the distance. The red flag of logging is bright and green, and the tracks of timber transportation are connected to the sky. The sharpshooters of the elders in the mountains are horses and birch trees that shoot back at pheasants.
Ye Shengtao, Caisang and Zhalantun are the scenery.
Zalantun loves boundless green, elm willow branches and poplars stand tall, and the static shadows of Qingxi are upside down. In August, the border town blows catkins, the shadows move lightly, and the ripples fall, mistaking it for April in Jiangnan. The Range Rover in the pavilion is spacious, the Yarlung Zangbo River is wide, and the island is surrounded by jagged rocks overlooking the unfathomable Wanshu Garden. A few whistles roared by, and the track was winding and lined up, all of which were good materials for Baoshan.
Yakeshi Road-Xie
The bee yellow butterfly powder is curled up, the branches are oblique, and the thin green group is covered with red. The afterglow of the road is scattered, and the flowers on the grassland are not known to the sun.