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There is a square table at the corner of the street, which is a small flower vendor's stall. He always appears here on time at eight o'clock every day. He always wears a white mask and a simple shirt and quietly stands by the flower stall. His flowers always cost five yuan a piece. Jiang Da Painter always comes here on time at 8:05 every day to pick up two flowers, no more, no less, only ten yuan. Until one autumn day, the little flower vendor didn't show up for a week in a row. The great painter opened the long-dusted classmates' directory, and with luck, dialed the phone number. The call went through, and a familiar voice came from the other end of the phone - "Hello, who are you?" "Two flowers on the street corner. You haven't been here for a week." The great painter was silent for a long time and then said. "Sorry, maybe you can go to other flower shops during this time. I can't come recently." His tone was weak, breathy, and seemed to be uncomfortable. "No, I just want your flowers. Wherever you are, I'll get them..." The little flower vendor was silent for a long time and then said helplessly: "Are these flowers important to you?" "Well, very important." It was the first time in Jiang Da's life that the painter stepped into such a dilapidated old community. The little flower vendor opened his eyes again and lay in the hospital. The big painter was guarding the bedside. He said: "I can't afford the hospitalization fee." "Come and work for me." The great painter took out a contract from his bag with ten unreasonable demands on it. The little florist glanced at it and was about to say no, when the big painter came up with a long list of bills. The little flower vendor was still defeated by the capitalist's pomegranate skirt, and pressed his fingerprint under Party B's column with a confused look on his face. Jiang Da's painter walks around every corner with his little tail between his legs every day. His hands, which can be worth millions for each painting, are skilled at doing laundry and cooking. Everyone around said that the great painter paid money to invite an ancestor back, but only the great painter himself knew that this was the lover he had deceived. But the little flower vendor kept in mind every bit of the pain he had caused the great painter. He didn't want to be a stumbling block for him, so he left a letter in the early morning of an autumn day and ran away quietly. Since then, Jiang Da, a painter, has never picked up a paintbrush again. Some people say that Jiang's talent has been exhausted, while others say that his hands were injured. Only the florist knew that he was also sick and needed medicine. Money-obsessed, sick, weak and fearful × rich in money, sensitive and secretly in love Motto: When life is desperate, there will be a bright future. Never give up hope.