Flower shop owner Wen Yan sees the same customer every Wednesday - Cheng Jingshen, a surgeon at the city hospital. He always comes in a hurry and leaves in a hurry. Twenty-six times in half a year, Wen Yan just thought it was the guest's habit.
Until one day, he found a schedule in the pocket of Cheng Jingshen's left coat. Every Wednesday is circled in red pen, with a very light word next to it: "Buy flowers, see warm words."
At that moment, he realized that every white rose was Cheng Jingshen's reason to squeeze out time from his busy schedule to see him.
Later, he looked through Cheng Jingshen's cell phone and found more than 300 profiles of him bowing his head and wrapping flowers in the photo album. I bought seventy-three bouquets of white roses, each one saying "I love you" for him that he could never say.
He didn't hear a word.
Roses have words, but deep love is silent. A story about secret love, white roses and surgical threads - love has actually been written long ago, but he read it too late.
Intention: The love was actually written long ago, but he read it too late.
