From what he recalled, his mother, who had silky-smooth hair, which reached her waist, would always have it tied whenever she worked in the garden with her pruning tools in her spare time.
After she left the Mu family, she got herself a job in a nursery, doing what she loved best—floral arts. Her works were well-received, which earned her quite the reputation in the field.
A wave of melancholia washed over him as his gaze lingered on these flowers.
Memories were the most terrifying thing ever, for the more beautiful people had of someone or something, the more heartbroken they would feel when they lost them.
The beautiful images in his mind suddenly fragmented and fell apart, jolting him back to the present. He was startled to discover that a tear had fallen from a corner of his eye.
Why am I crying?
