During the summer vacation before that dream, Song Zhiqing had been planning what kind of gift to give Shangguan Xianxian from the very beginning of the break.
Jewelry? Too cliché.
Roses? Too cheesy.
A painting? Too pretentious.
From July to August, Song Zhiqing nearly drove Ye Yuhuan mad with her constant WeChat messages.
Yes, I, Ye Yuhuan, am your strategist, but when things escalate to this level of clamor, isn’t that, for a strategist, a bit excessive?
Song Zhiqing, a lover of brainstorming, would excitedly propose an idea, only to frantically shoot it down a short while later. Song Zhiqing was happy, satisfied, but a certain Ye, who had put down her books to painstakingly offer advice in a field she was unfamiliar with, was mentally exhausted.
It’s just a gift, isn’t it?
You two aren’t even together yet!
She can’t even be said to fully know you!
To this, Song Zhiqing raised an index finger and said, “No, no, no.”
She even had the audacity to claim that once she and Shangguan Xianxian started dating, every single interaction now would become a sugar-coated memory for the future. As everyone knows, the beauty of love lies in the details, and she, Master Song, the romantic artisan, vowed to polish everything to a flawless finish.
Ye Yuhuan was deeply moved by her determination and reminded her that, due to her indecisiveness and constant changes of heart, there were only three days left until the Qixi Festival. If she didn’t decide on a gift soon, she could forget about sugar-coated memories; there wouldn’t be any memories at all.
Song Zhiqing was shaken by these words. And so, after harassing a high school student’s leisure time during the holidays, she proceeded to drag a person who should have been enjoying air conditioning at home out into the sweltering summer heat.
With a broad smile, Song Zhiqing said, “Ye Yuhuan, you have to believe that all your efforts now are for the sake of a great love. When Shangguan Xianxian and I get married, I’ll have you be our witness.”
Ye Yuhuan let out a cold laugh, feeling in the 37-degree weather the shameless audacity of a cruel landlord in the dead of winter.
Song Zhiqing was generous with her empty promises, but every time Ye Yuhuan told her to go strike up a conversation with Shangguan Xianxian, she would wilt, feebly arguing that it wasn’t a sufficiently romantic moment. But based on her description of a so-called romantic moment, Ye Yuhuan always felt that Song Zhiqing wished she had three invisible wind machines on standby to blow through her hair and the hem of her skirt, after which she would offer a faint smile, steeping her love in the refreshing and beautiful essence of a summer’s lemon-and-ice sparkling water.
Unfortunately, summer had already passed, and Song Zhiqing was still waiting for her wind machines—and would most likely be waiting next summer, too.
As for what Shangguan Xianxian thought of her, she was probably just a particularly enthusiastic and kind person.
After all, every time Song Zhiqing seized an opportunity to “coincidentally” run into Shangguan Xianxian or help her, she would flee as if she were afraid of being framed for a crime.
And this was supposed to be love?
Ye Yuhuan found it hard to believe.
“If you weren’t so shy and were a little bolder, you could just go and ask Shangguan Xianxian what gift she wants right now,” Ye Yuhuan griped.
Song Zhiqing’s eyes flickered, and she quickly cleared her throat to sound serious. “How many times have I told you? It’s for the sake of romance!”
They were currently sitting in a newly opened cat café. The café was famous for its cats, and rumor had it that they would even walk a runway to music. Although no one had yet seen this feline fashion show, visitors were invariably captivated by the cats’ good behavior and stunning looks, and, as expected, gradually forgot their original purpose for coming. Song Zhiqing was, without a doubt, one of them. With a Ragdoll in her left arm and a Persian in her right, she looked so blissfully content that Ye Yuhuan gave up trying to argue the point with her. She only hoped that this unreliable boss of hers could get things sorted out today.
Ye Yuhuan stood up, walked over, and scooped the cats out of Song Zhiqing’s arms. With the gravity of a loyal minister admonishing his lord not to indulge in beautiful temptations, she said, “So, have you figured out how to be romantic this time?”
At her words, Song Zhiqing’s face fell. Even her hand, which had been reaching to reclaim the cats, retracted. Her eyes filled with sorrow, she said, “No, I still haven’t thought of a gift so explosive that Shangguan Xianxian will have no choice but to accept it.”
That was right. Just as numerous as Shangguan Xianxian’s admirers were the gifts she had returned to them.
No matter how seemingly unavoidable the methods they used to present their affections, Shangguan Xianxian could always find a way to send them back.
As for how she managed it—it was nothing more than a cold heart.
You say you’ll lose face if I return it, that everyone is watching.
—Then let everyone watch you lose face.
You say this is a gift you spent months acquiring, and you hope it can find its proper home.
—Its best home is back in the hands of the only person who treasures it, which is you, standing right here.
Shangguan Xianxian never yielded to moral blackmail.
And yet, Song Zhiqing tormented Ye Yuhuan with moral blackmail on a daily basis.
Even getting Ye Yuhuan to come out had been a very dramatic affair: “My dearest strategist, if you don’t help me, what will become of my lonely, helpless love?”
And so, Ye Yuhuan had resignedly put on a hat and left the house.
Seeing that Song Zhiqing truly was clueless, Ye Yuhuan stroked a cat’s soft belly and tried to offer a suggestion. “How about a gift that she can’t refuse under objective circumstances?”
Song Zhiqing looked up from the middle of her red velvet cake and said solemnly, “Elaborate.”
Ye Yuhuan gathered her thoughts. “For example, something that achieves the effect of a received gift as soon as Shangguan Xianxian touches it, or even sees it?”
Song Zhiqing immediately had an idea. “I’ll sing her a song!”
At that time, the two had not yet gone to karaoke together, so Ye Yuhuan had some doubts about the young miss’s abilities. Of course, she wouldn’t point this out directly, as it wasn’t the most important part.
The most important part was—Ye Yuhuan asked, “Can you get Shangguan Xianxian to meet you? Or are you planning to sing under her window?”
What kind of Romeo and Juliet scene was that!
Song Zhiqing’s expression froze. Realizing this was a question teetering between despair and social suicide, she hastily launched into another brainstorm. “What if, and hear me out, I trick Shangguan Xianxian into coming out, then pretend to be a street busker, sing her a song, and at the end, tell her it’s for her?”
“First, what’s your excuse?” Ye Yuhuan’s voice was gentle.
“Qinglin is on fire? Or the Shangguan Group went bankrupt?” Song Zhiqing was already starting to spout nonsense out of nervousness.
“Second, I was the one who introduced you to her. Do you really think you’d be bold enough to serenade Shangguan Xianxian on the street?” Ye Yuhuan’s voice grew even gentler.
Song Zhiqing didn’t like the sound of that. She put down her fork to defend herself, repeating her old refrain, “I was doing it for the romance.”
Then, under Ye Yuhuan’s gaze, her voice dwindled. “Besides, how do you know I can’t do it… What if, what if… I actually dare to…”
Seeing Song Zhiqing’s head about to droop into her cake, Ye Yuhuan suddenly remembered that this was her boss, and she ought to respect her.
So, she very respectfully skipped over this part and continued to move the process along. “Alright, besides singing, are there any other ideas?”
Song Zhiqing, taking the hint, resumed her pensive expression.
For some reason, while she could act like Ye Yuhuan’s boss in front of their underlings, she could never bring herself to pull rank on Ye Yuhuan in private. Song Zhiqing comforted herself with the thought that this was probably the Song family’s hereditary respect for technical talent.
After a period of thought that lasted about one red velvet cake, one strawberry mousse, and one mocha—during which Song Zhiqing also successfully reclaimed the cats that Ye Yuhuan had petted into two jelly-like lumps—
Master Song, the romantic artisan, finally had an idea. “I’m going to give her a flower!”
The philistine Ye Yuhuan expressed her confusion. “Didn’t you say giving flowers was cheesy?”
Song Zhiqing smiled mysteriously, her romantic artisan’s pride restored. “That’s because the flower I’m giving is no ordinary flower.”
Ye Yuhuan adopted an expression of “I’m all ears.”
“I’m going to give her a Queen of the Night flower that will bloom on the exact night of the Qixi Festival. Even if she wants to return the gift, it will have to spend at least one night at her house. I’ll put an alarm clock in the gift box. As long as Shangguan Xianxian opens the package when the flower is about to bloom and sees it open, my gift will have been delivered.”
“I’m giving her the blooming of the most beautiful and most fleeting flower in the world.”
Song Zhiqing was extremely pleased with herself. “What do you think? Super romantic, right?”
Ye Yuhuan could almost see the scene: a maid, tidying up gifts, suddenly hears an alarm. But it’s not her place to investigate, so she can only call for the young miss. Shangguan Xianxian would surely think it was a prank; perhaps her cold expression would even be tinged with anger. And then she would open an incomparable gift.
If this were the beginning of a love story, it was indeed romantic enough.
Ye Yuhuan said to Song Zhiqing with sincerity, “Yes, super romantic.”
It was an afternoon like that, 37 degrees Celsius outside, while Song Zhiqing racked her brains to shape a love that would bloom in the night breeze. Ye Yuhuan looked at the person before her and saw a shadow of her own mother—both believed that love was the diamond on life’s crown. Ye Yuhuan didn’t believe it, yet on an afternoon like this, looking at the satisfied girl before her, she could, in a daze, appreciate one of love’s dazzling facets.
Song Zhiqing saw Ye Yuhuan’s distant expression return and sighed softly. Things had been going so well just a moment ago.
Why did she suddenly look like she was about to melt into the air again?
This person, oh, it was as if she could never be truly, tangibly reached.
I really want to know what she’s thinking right now, Song Zhiqing thought, tilting her head and restraining the impulse to pinch Ye Yuhuan’s cheek to startle her back to reality.
On the night of the Qixi Festival, the Queen of the Night flower that Song Zhiqing had gone to great lengths to acquire, set to bloom at the perfect time, sat quietly in a remote room of the Shangguan residence, just as she had imagined.
When the alarm clock rang, the maid went to find the gift’s owner.
But the gift’s owner was taking a walk under the moon with the person to whom she felt a sense of indebtedness, and they had just returned from an amusement park.
When the maid arrived, Shen Wei was playfully tucking a flower behind Shangguan Xianxian’s ear.
Shangguan Xianxian awkwardly tried to dodge it, but sooner or later, she would stand under the moon wearing that flower.
After the maid explained the situation, Shangguan Xianxian was about to go and see what was happening, just as Song Zhiqing had predicted. But at that moment, Shen Wei tugged on her arm and said delicately, “Sister, just let Sister Chen handle it. Let’s keep walking, okay?”
Ever since seeing the kind of family Shen Wei had grown up in, Shangguan Xianxian had felt an endless debt to her. The repayment of this debt was a long way off, and most of the time, Shangguan Xianxian was willing to do anything that would make Shen Wei happy.
So she said, “Okay.”
In the end, the maid opened the gift. The maid witnessed the flower bloom.
The maid told Shangguan Xianxian that it was a blooming Queen of the Night flower. Shangguan Xianxian had missed the moment of its full bloom, so she was not moved by the less potent romance that remained. At that moment, she was merely annoyed, wondering how to return this gift.
Apparently, there was no sender’s name on it, only the codename “Romantic Artisan.”
Maybe I should just buy a new plant and send it back to the original address. I need to make some kind of statement, Shangguan Xianxian thought.
In the end, the maid secretly brought her lover into the room, and they stayed there for four hours, watching the flower wilt.
Perhaps what might offer Song Zhiqing a sliver of comfort is that her romantic gesture had, at the very least, added color to one love story.
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