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.,As I get older, I often think that it would be wonderful if I could give my mother a chance to make different choices.,Ning Ran's ears once again heard a roar of anger, and she subconsciously nodded.。