A tale unfolds where two rivers meet, beneath a willow whose branches sweep the earth like an old sage’s beard. It is said that on nights when the moon hangs as a pale pearl, the tree whispers secrets to those who listen—not with ears, but with the heart. A young traveler once rested there, weary from a journey longer than seasons. As dusk bled into violet, the wind stirred the leaves into a soft murmur: “The heaviest burdens are not carried in hands, but in thoughts.” The traveler sat until ...