The flower language of the stars is longing, purity, true love, and watchful love.
It is small and inconspicuous, and is often used as a companion in bouquets. But if you take a closer look, the clusters of white flowers are blooming quietly, without any competition, but they have a gentle power of their own.
Someone kept it by the balcony window.
Every morning, he would spray a little water on the flowers and gently brush the tiny petals. His movements are very light, just like the person he is - gentle, quiet, accustomed to standing on the edge of the crowd, leaving the best position to others.
He prepared breakfast for another person for six years, organized his itinerary for six years, and remembered his preferences for six years. He carefully kept the words, frowns, and smiles of that person in his heart, like a bouquet of flowers that would never wither.
That man smells like fir trees in the mountains.
Chill, alienated, with a sense of distance. But in front of him, she would relax unconsciously, lean on his shoulder and say she was tired, and hold his hand and say "don't go" when she was drunk.
The man said: "Qianqian is my best friend."
So he settled into being "best friends" for six years.
Hide those unspeakable thoughts in the daily routine as detailed as the sky full of stars. Hidden in a cup of coffee that is just right, hidden in a bowl of porridge with just the right temperature, hidden in the mornings and evenings when you look back one after another.
Until one day, he changed.
Like the gypsophila finally blooming, the elegant fragrance cannot be hidden and overflows from every corner of the body. Those feelings that have been suppressed for six years can no longer be concealed with this fragrance.
Rules first
He handed in his resignation, dragged his suitcase, and said goodbye with a smile.
The moment the door closed, the smell of fir was disturbed for the first time - the man stood in the empty house and realized belatedly that he seemed to have lost more than just his "best friend".
Jiang Qian looked at the perfectly blooming pot of gypsophila on the window sill, which was his favorite flower.
Xiaoman is the gentlest among the twenty-four solar terms. Small and full, small and full, everything is ripe but not yet ripe, everything is just right.
Just like the person he had been waiting for for many years, finally stood awkwardly in front of him on an ordinary evening, holding a bouquet of gypsophila he planted in his hand, and said:
"Qianqian, I'm late."
The sunset outside the window is beautiful, and the stars are swaying gently in the wind.
Intention: Don't lose to know how to cherish