Dou Si Yuan, for the most part, wasn’t the most perceptive when it came to romance.
For instance, one day after work, Fu Qiao Mu casually said to him, “Tomorrow’s May 20th.”
He thought the situation was mostly his master’s fault. The old man had overheard this and, looking up, remarked, “Oh, it’s Xiaoman already,” and walked away, successfully diverting Dou Si Yuan’s attention.
“Xiaoman? The weather’s warming up. Qiao Mu, you could wear a skirt tomorrow.”
Fu Qiao Mu stared at him for a long time, her expression one of complete disbelief, and then unlocked her bike and left.
The next day during lunch, he heard Yu Dong Ge shouting from a distance, “Hey, did you guys see the bouquet of roses someone gave Qiao Mu? That huge bunch must’ve cost a fortune. These young folks today really know how to make a splash…”
Fu Qiao Mu squeezed her way into the room, her face flushed, holding a massive bouquet of roses that nearly obscured her face.
Without even glancing at Dou Si Yuan, she put the flowers down and walked right out of the restoration room. He could faintly hear Kang Mo Shui’s voice from the other side: “I have an empty glass vase that’s been sitting around. It’s perfect for flowers like these with no roots. Come with me to the yard…”
Dou Si Yuan stretched his neck to eavesdrop, but suddenly felt a chill on the back of his head and let out a yelp.
“Useless,” Sun Qi Rui’s face was red with frustration. “You’ve got the advantage of being close by, yet you can’t get anywhere.”
“How’s that my fault?” Dou Si Yuan protested. “It’s probably that unreliable senior from her oil painting department again, isn’t it? I’ve had my eye on him for a while. Why’s he sending roses for no reason?”
“How is it ‘for no reason’?” Sun Qi Rui roared. “You blockhead! I overheard someone saying today’s 520, that homophone for… you know!”
Holding his head, Dou Si Yuan suddenly realized, but then slumped into a gloomy mood, focusing on the porcelain in his hands.
He brooded over it for the rest of the afternoon and rushed off right after work. Fu Qiao Mu watched him leave, her nose wrinkling in disdain.
The next morning when she came to work, she found a green plastic bottle sitting on her desk, one of those drink bottles cut in half, with a clump of green inside.
She turned on the lights in the restoration room, leaned in, and took a closer look—
A cactus.
She really didn’t want to use the word "clump," but in all her life, she had never seen such an awkward and dark-looking cactus. Dou Si Yuan walked in with a cup of water, beaming as he approached Fu Qiao Mu.
“I got this for you.”
She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I figured as much. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
“I specifically went to the flower market to buy it. The owner said it’s the easiest plant to keep alive and that it’ll live for a really long time.” Dou Si Yuan scratched his head, seemingly relieved. “Do you like it?”
Looking at his sincere smile, Fu Qiao Mu suddenly felt a bit of pity.
“It’s fine. Just leave it here.”
In the textile restoration group, Kang Mo Shui was misting the roses with a spray bottle.
“Hey, Qiao Mu doesn’t want the flowers?” Yu Dong Ge asked when she arrived at work.
“She said we can just keep them here,” Kang Mo Shui replied.
“That girl. Someone gave her flowers and she’s not even keeping them herself.”
“That’s probably because she’s not interested in the guy.”
“I don’t like him either—too slick. Not like Si Yuan.”
“Exactly.”
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