Start Cultivating Immortality from Climbing the Mountain

Looking at the haggard face in the mirror, I prefer how I looked before. He has more courage than me and less regrets than me. He knows less than I do and believes more than I do. But time will not turn back, and there are no ifs in life. In the next ten years, we may not have such a hot heart as today. Of all the people I have lost, the one I miss the most is myself. If the spring breeze feels pity for the flowers, can it allow me to be young again? In an instant, black hair and blue hair turn white, who will I tell you when I grow old? The spring breeze of the willows is leisurely tonight, and I ask the blue sky with a cup of turbid wine. Why do flowers bloom again and people no longer have their youth?