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.,The initial discomfort gradually faded with time. Twenty years of life polished away humanity, and past memories were gradually suppressed by animalistic instincts. Only occasionally, when lost in thought, would he recall the sorrowful faces of his family by his bedside. When he had nothing to do each day, all he could do was try his best to remember his past life, fearing that one day he might forget everything and be left with only survival instincts, his passion gone, becoming a cold-blooded creature.。