Yangshuo | Watch the wind blow through the wheat fields with you on the fields of hope.

| Watch the wind blow through the wheat fields with you on the fields of hope. The golden hue of the rice fields is the color of autumn In the Ten-Mile Gallery, look at the distant green hills Romance is probably walking into the rice fields Listening to the sound of the wind blowing through the wheat fields The wind makes waves in the rice fields Open your arms as if you could have it Walk in the infinity pool and see the distant mountains Or drink a cup of osmanthus tea in front of the floor-to-ceiling window The distant mountains and the sky at this moment Outline a spoonful of longing for you Time blows memories into an ink painting So beautiful that I forget to go home If longing could speak It would probably be walking with you under the stars in the fields