The breeze swayed, and a group of white cranes flew over and hovered over the green water lilies.
The carved water pavilion is facing the lake, and the curtains were lifted by the wind, bringing a faint fragrance. Zhao Lu knelt on the velvet blanket, holding a small white porcelain-dyed blue-and-white pot in his hand, bending over to make tea.
There is a long table with pear flowers and wood clouds, and several people are sitting on one side. The room was quiet, except for the faint sound of tea being brewed.
Jiang Yutang took the plum blossom cup in front of him and lowered his head to smell the fragrance of the tea.
"Pingyuan high mountain tea, Song Gongzi is not used to drinking it." He raised his head as he said, and Song Xingzhi was standing opposite him.
In a few days, it will b
