What a desolate place, there are people smoking. The history of the plateau is like an almanac spread out on the wasteland. The wind blows, recording the rings of the years. After several years of the previous year, it is still endless.
3. The breath of the fields on the Loess Plateau is blowing, and the apples on the trees are smiling, and the most beautiful smiles are blooming in the sunset.
4. In autumn, the loess plateau is crisp in autumn. The leaves of the Three North Shelterbelt are yellow. Sit down and take a nap. The leaves in the forest are soft. The edge of the forest is sour and dense, and at first glance it is full of saliva. The fruit in Ru Ru is red on the hillside. A timid weasel catches one or two from time to time and runs away.
The sun witnessed its vicissitudes, the wind and rain baptized its life, and the tears soaked its history. Clouds of smoke covered it with light banquet gauze, and thousands of golden lights proudly penetrated the layers of fog and gently stroked it. This is a dream, this is not a dream.