The teahouse is ordinary.

Five or six leafy plane trees, planted at the door.

When the breeze blows, the leaves rustle.

In the wind, the fragrance of tea wafting is very light, but it is enough to arouse the tea addiction of good tea people.

The person who comes to this kind of small teahouse is by no means a high...

Chapter 0210 of "Deadly Sanskrit" Idleness is equivalent to death is hitting in the hand, please wait a moment,

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