Wen Yan, the owner of a flower shop, sees the same customer every Wednesday: Cheng Jingshen, a surgeon at the city hospital. He always arrives in a hurry and leaves just as quickly. Twenty-six visits in six months, and Wen Yan assumes it's just a customer habit.
Then one day, he finds a duty roster in the pocket of the coat Cheng Jingshen left behind. Every Wednesday is circled in red, with a line of tiny writing beside it: “Buy flowers, see Wen Yan.”
That is when he finally understands: every bouquet of white roses is Cheng Jingshen's reason for carving out time to visit him between busy surgeries.
Later, he sneaks a look at Cheng Jingshen's phone. The photo album holds over three hundred pictures of Wen Yan's profile as he bends over to wrap flowers. Cheng Jingshen has bought seventy-three bouquets of white roses, each one saying the “I love you” he has never managed to say aloud.
Wen Yan never heard a single one.
Roses speak, while deep love stays silent. A story about a secret crush, white roses, and surgical sutures: the words of love were written long ago, but he read them too late.
Cool, aloof surgeon top x gentle flower-shop-owner bottom
Theme: The words of love were written long ago, but he read them too late.
