Sometimes we always hurt each other because of misunderstandings. The deeper the hurt, the deeper the heartache...
One day, we suddenly discover that the person we have hurt is the person we care about the most...
Wild chrysanthemums grow in the most ordinary places, blooming with the most ordinary flowers, blooming in the breeze, blooming...
No one has noticed the tears of wild chrysanthemums. They come and go with the wind, disappearing indifferently under the cold moonlight...
Before the story begins, there is this introduction——
A sad and sad flute sound resounded through the night sky, and a few pale clouds floated lazily in the sky...
A pair of warm big hands reached out and hugged the waist of the flute player. The visitor gently and considerately asked in a soft and tender whisper: "Are you thinking about your mother again?"
The flute player turned around, and his thin lips met the lips of the person behind him, and the soft moonlight suddenly became more lingering.
"You know, I'm pregnant..."
"Really?" There was excitement that could not be hidden in his tone.
He nodded slightly, then looked at the moon in the distance, "I can really understand my mother's love now..."