Sixty-year-old Ning Ran sat under the wisteria in her small courtyard, her white hair as graceful as a crane. She lay leisurely on a reclining chair, drowsiness washing over her.,In that case, the mother wouldn't have died tragically in bed, and her son wouldn't have had a violent father... Perhaps he could even have a good year and a happy family.,Ning Ran was thoroughly awakened by the pinch. She glanced at the surroundings, which were different from her own.。