7.1 The Language Of Flowers

24.6K 1.6K 335
                                    

Lang Yuan is thankful that almost 99% of the flowers in this world is the same from his previous life. There are some that are new to him but those are recognizable and have distinct colors and shapes so it's not hard to remember. All he needed to do is to know how to cut and pick the flowers when the competition will happen. Zhong Song is helping him throughout the job.

"I went to a flower arrangement contest a few thousand years ago," Zhong Song said proudly. "Even though I'm only a spectator, the participants should follow a certain theme."

"Ju Laosi, is your thousand years old knowledge reliable?" Lang Yuan asked.

"Are you checking my credibility? First of all, there is this language of flowers the ladies often talk about. I even know a few of them," Zhong Song humped.

But I mostly know them all, is what Lang Yuan thought but he remained silent as he watched the Imperial Scholar gather a few bundles of flowers and a pot. He placed it in front of Lang Yuan with a perplexed expression. He had read about flowers and such the other day before buying these objects. he even asked the Imperial Gardener the things needed to make a flower bloom. Yet, none of the information managed to stay inside his mind.

After all, Zhong Song is a scholar. He could have solved any political issues anyone throws at him, but he has no idea about this craft the women are fond of. Let him fight the war and he still can win. Make him decorate flowers... err... it might look like a funeral. Dragons are indeed skillful but Zhong Song is highly unrelated to this part.

"You needed to cute the stem of these flowers to let them drink water," Zhong Song is reading a manual on his hands. "Then let your artistic side decide what kind of design you wanted to do... huh? What is this? It didn't include the process of decorating the flowers at all."

Hopeless.

And what's with that manual anyway? Is that a Do-It-Yourself instruction? Lang Yuan thought it's funny to have such thing on the ancient. Zhong Song keeps on reading the instruction but it's obvious from his face that he is unsatisfied. Finally throwing the object away, the scholar looked at Lang Yuan with crying eyes.

"Want to forfeit the first match?" The Scholar asked, totally giving up.

Lang Yuan sighed. He knows how smart this Zhong Song is, to the point of calling him a teacher. But Zhong Song can't give what he doesn't have from the first place. If the teacher gives up, how about the student?

"Maybe Ju Laosi only needed some time to rest. How about calling the Imperial gardener to let us show how it is done," Lang Yuan suggested.

"Good point. I'll excuse myself for a while. I will bring one later," and Zhong Song fled the scene with determination from his eyes. He will definitely catch that gardener who kept on refusing his request.

Left alone by his self, Lang Yuan only heaved a sigh as he stared at the flowers Zhong Song tried to make do. The scholar experimented on a few rose stalks cutting the stems messily. He felt sorry to the flowers. They are massacred mercilessly.

Lang Yuan picked the flower one by one only to be pricked by one of the thorns. He hissed, jerking his hands letting the flowers fall. Red blood slowly surfaced from that small prickle forming a round shaped blood. Lang Yuan pressed the wounded finger to let more blood out.

"How careless can you be? Prickling yourself over a flower," a voice suddenly said.

Lang Yuan was surprised by the voice that he unconsciously stepped back losing his balance. The pot Zhong Song brought is right just on his back ready to be smashed by the incoming youth. It could have happen if only the person who owned that voice did not managed to catch Lang Yuan on time. The stranger held on his hips pulling him up on his chest.

That Day I Found The Strangest EggWhere stories live. Discover now