Butterfly Resort

       Before leaving, I wrote a line in the guestbook word: Meng Zhuang, sun hometown. Then, press the backspace key, the time reversal of origin, I stood in front of the big Meng Zhuang, marvel in front of scenery, such as the late Tang Dynasty poetry, ethereal, transparent, a trace of sadness can not comment.

         Standing on the second floor, you can see the distant Yulong Snow Mountain, fine weather, the sun under the snow, bright glare, feeling subject to melt into streams, flowing in front of celadon tea cup, put the cup of Pu'er halo cook dyed an abstract painting.

         In Meng Zhuang, maximum enjoyment is the sun, often sleeping in the sun until the clothes are tan hot, wake up, whole body full of strength, like being a master make up an infuriating, ready pounced wall, sword around, repel hundreds of enemies, and then the sky and shouts: I want to resign, off net, off cell phones, from now on, mundane mundane, all die.

         Stay here for a long time, people will become lazy, time slows down, the brain seems to move a little, but the back, on the plane, my heart is very well aware that just a few days, Meng Zhuang sunshine, have washed heart dust filled the entire portrait power, ready to begin a new round of sprint.

         Meng Zhuang sunshine, please wait for me, next time exhausted, I will come back with a beloved woman, the most annoying mind, completely evaporated.