When Feishuang dyed my hair white and the years ran rampant on my face, someone asked me what it was like when I first met him. Was it the domineering power of a dragon soaring into the sky, or the lingering lingering among flowers? Is it the warmest smile of a man that can capture all the women in the world?
I remember shaking my head, and the golden step in my black hair trembled slightly. In fact, when I first saw him, I just realized that the man in front of me was too old, and his heart was too vicissitudes to touch, and the ground would be mottled when he touched it.
But I never thought that gray hair was also a luxury.
Conception: