Pointing at the two men playing chess at the stone table nearby, he asked her with a tender look, “You call him a heartwarming peach and him a gentlemanly orchid. What am I, then?”
She smiled brightly. “You’re a sunflower.”
His expression shifted from delight to disappointment. He protested indignantly, “Why do they get to be peach blossoms and orchids, while I’m stuck as a sunflower? Am I really that unloved by you?”
She looked puzzled. “What’s wrong with sunflowers? What does that have to do with being loved?”
He sighed wistfully. “You’ve always loved peaches and orchids, and liked bamboo and plum blossoms, but I’ve never seen you take an interest in those silly sunflowers. If you don’t like them, what’s the point of being one?”
But she smiled. “You have a dazzling sun. Why do you need me to like you?”
He shook his head. “If you’re not beneath its light, what use is the sun to me?”
