Yangou flower shop owner attacked by romantic beauty painter
The glass door of Fengchun Flower Shop is always pushed open on time at 9 o'clock every Saturday, blocking the way to get off work on time. A man in a plaid shirt came in. He would always order red roses of the same style, along with a card filled with sexy love words.
"May the stars in your eyes shine only for me."
"The wind today is thinking of you for me."
When Si Shihua was arranging the bouquet, she couldn't help but frown at the card - maybe this person has never heard of "licking a dog until there is nothing left"? It would be a pity to pair such good flowers with these sticky flowers.
Until that Saturday, the plaid shirt didn't come.
Si Shihua thought that the other party had finally woken up, but unexpectedly she bumped into him on the street corner when the store was closing at night. The man stood under the sycamore tree, and opposite him stood a man in an off-white shirt. His long hair was blown up by the wind, revealing his neatly-lined jaw, with only a back view.
"Don't send flowers anymore." The man's voice was very soft, "I can't hang you, I don't like you."
The hands of the plaid shirt were so clenched that they turned white. Red roses were scattered around her feet, their petals trembling in the wind. Si Shihua stood there, and suddenly understood the paranoia in those love words - it turned out that no matter how clumsy you were to please, you were hiding an uncontrollable panic.
After that, the plaid shirt completely disappeared. Si Shihua occasionally thought of him, until one day she saw the long-haired man by the window of the cafe opposite.
When he sits in a coffee shop, he always likes to push his long hair behind his ears, exposing his small earlobes. The sun fell on the top of his hair, and you could see the fine sheen in the hair. When he lowered his head to stir the coffee, his eyelashes drooped, casting a shallow shadow under his eyes. Even the movement of his fingertips across the cup wall was slow, showing a careless elegance. Until I looked up, those eyes were as bright as if they were soaked in light.
Si Shihua suddenly remembered the first time she saw him.
It was also such a sultry afternoon. The man was leaning against the stone pillar outside the flower shop. His face was frighteningly white, cold sweat was dripping from his forehead, and his hands were still shaking slightly. Si Shihua thought he was getting an electric shock, so she kicked the opponent's knee as soon as her brain got hot. As a result, she failed to save him and sent him to the hospital.
Later he found out that the man's name was Zhi Ci, he was a painter, and he had suffered from low blood sugar that day.
While his thoughts were wandering, Zhi Ci suddenly raised his glass to him with a slight smile on his lips.
Si Shihua was holding the iced American style she just bought, and her fingertips suddenly felt cold. Just at this moment, Zhi Ci looked over again, this time with a little more playfulness in his eyes. He stood up and walked to the silk flower table, bent down and came closer, his voice was as light as a feather:
"I thought the florist only cared about tweed."
His fingertips lightly touched the wall of Si Shihua's cup, "If you look any further, your ice cream will melt."
Intention: Beat the pain of workers
