[Vicious Queen Florist × Arrogant Botany Master] The laboratory was dimly lit with blue light. Su Heng clutched Ji Linzhou's notebook, with dried blue snow petals falling between the pages. Ji Linzhou's shirt is soaked and stuck to his waistline. The blue wind chime tattoo on his collarbone rises and falls with his breathing. He is using a dropper to inject medicine into the dying epiphyllum rhizome.
Su Heng: Shaking his notes and approaching, "The seventh modified formula is just to simulate the smell of my shampoo? When did Dr. Ji become a part-time perfumer?"? Fingertips poked at his tattoo, and the heavy rain slapped the glass window.
Ji Linzhou: He grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the experimental table. The dropper splashed out fluorescent blue liquid. "When a certain boss mixed dish soap with nutrient solution, why didn't he question his ability to waste flowers?" The epiphyllum suddenly trembled, and the petals oozed out the fresh-keeping dew he developed.
Su Heng: I caught a glimpse of the faded Dragon Boat Festival colorful rope in his tool box. "Do you still have the broken rope that was cut last year?"
Ji Linzhou, shouldn't you..." The ending was suddenly swallowed up by the dim light of the night-blooming night-blooming cereus.
Ji Linzhou: Leaning forward in the sudden brightness of the fluorescent light, his breath wrapped around her earlobes, "What can you not do? You don't like earthy flower arrangements and still have a hard mouth for seven years?" The fingertips hooked up the moxa rope hidden in her collar, and connected it with her own cut-off rope.
Su Heng: Bite his wrist. "Then your blue wind chime tattoo is performance art?"?
He groaned and loosened his collar, revealing the handwriting of her teenage years under the tattoo: [Possessed by Su Heng])
Ji Linzhou: pinched the back of her neck and stared at her, "Who threw the flowers that failed in the competition at my face?" (Suddenly chuckled) "Now they are blooming all over my laboratory - including you." The rainstorm stopped, and the first ray of morning light illuminated the room full of everlasting blue snow, with its roots entangled with twin knots.
Intention: In the long game and symbiosis, those thorns sealed by specimens and lies wrapped by hyphae will eventually be deciphered into the constellation code - a proposition that cannot be solved by the most precise scientific formulas. It turns out that the answer was written as early as the age of seventeen: All encounters with thorns are the trajectories of clumsy souls growing towards each other in billions of experiments.