This is not the South, but Dalian. The firewood rice hidden in the alley.

It's like meeting an old friend again Never get close to talk, but it seems to have known each other for a long time You said, what is wildfire and how is the spring breeze It was not until I sat down for a while that I realized it. . Take a sip of the tea and rice in front of you It actually reminds me of the landscape painting by the Yulong River The tender and not firewood after the roast beef ribs are sliced The sour and spicy beef ribs are exactly the taste I ate in the south A bite of the crispness of the reed, a bite of the citrus roast of the black tiger shrimp Pour a pot of hot milk tea with fried rice The fireworks you yearn for At this moment, they are all on my square wooden table . What I eat is the fragrance of wild rice🍲; What I think of is the ten miles of spring breeze that I passed by in those years. —— So I put this autumn afternoon☀️ into the wine glass Fingertips lightly shake it🍸 Just sit quietly in a corner of the second floor terrace It seems that I can touch the green in front of me with a stretch of my hand🍃 · Log as a beam, stone slab as a road Even this lamp just shines into people's hearts Pushing open the wooden door seems to have come to a hidden world It turns out that this is the wildfire and spring breeze I missed · Just for the fragrance of this bowl of charcoal firewood rice I met my long-sought pastoral ideal🌿