Qin Yahuang looked at her daughter's paintings. Although they were simple pictures and the colours were not very beautiful, she was still very touched.

Suddenly, with a snap, a tear fell on the thick drawing paper, fainting and reading to her, "Mom, don't cry, I'm not good at drawing, I'll paint well next time."

Qin Yahuang embraced his daughter. "No, it's very good to read and draw. Mother just likes it so much that she can shed tears."

Nian stretched out his little hand and wiped the tears on Qin Yahuang's face. "Mom, don't cry. If you cry, I will cry too."

"Mother is moved, not crying." Qin Yahuang bent...