The Legend of the Wh

My temples are frosted with age, and my hair is white. There's nowhere to express the profound sadness I feel. As a child, I was unable to repay the grace of having been raised with such love and care. Scenes from my childhood flood back, making me realize how unworthy I am of my parents' devotion.,A trickle of warmth slid down the corner of my eye, and my strength began to drain away. I wanted to say something, but my throat was dry and scratchy, making it impossible to speak. If I didn't speak now, there would be no more chance.,Wandering through misty mountains and streams, I splash ink to paint landscapes in crimson hues.。