First, then, love.

At the end of the corridor, around the corner, lies a spacious reception hall.

There are quite a few people in the lobby right now.

There were students who had just finished class, parents sitting on the sofa waiting for their children, and several teachers who didn't have classes.

At this moment, everyone's eyes were focused on the center of the hall.

Shu Yao walked around the corner.

Look up.

The instant I saw the scene in the hall.

Shu Yao's feet seemed rooted to the ground, firmly planted on the floor.

Her pupils dilated suddenly, her lips parted slightly, and a breath caught in her throat, unable to come up or down.

In the very center of the hall.

He Zheng stood there.

He was 1.88 meters tall, with broad shoulders and a thick back, and his posture was as straight as a steel plate.

He exudes a raw and wild energy.

It was completely out of place in this arts center filled with artistic atmosphere and playing soft piano music.

Like a black panther that suddenly bursts into Swan Lake.

But this is not the point.

The key point is what he was holding in his arms.

It was indeed a bouquet of flowers.

Moreover, it is extremely large.

The flower buds were unusually large, and their color was so red it was almost black, so red it looked like it was dripping blood.

There were hundreds of them, crowded together, like a blazing fire.

It has a strong visual impact.

But what about the packaging?

There was no black velvet box, no French ribbon, and no transparent cellophane.

Enveloping the raging fire were several dusty, crumpled old newspapers.

newspaper.

It really was a newspaper.

The lobby was brightly lit, and Shu Yao had excellent eyesight.

She could clearly see that the headers of those newspapers bore four large black characters: "Nancheng Daily".

Even on the outermost page of the newspaper, there was a striking headline in bold black font:

[Swift Action! City Police Successfully Apprehend Two Armed Suspects on the Run!]

Below the title is a blurry black-and-white photo showing the suspect being pinned to the ground.

This sensational news headline was printed so openly in the newspaper, right next to a vibrant red rose.

In the lower middle section of the newspaper.

It was a rough, yellow hemp rope used to tie up cabbages.

The hemp rope tightly bound the newspaper and flower stems, wrapping them three times to form a tight but utterly unattractive knot.

This is not finished.

At the notch at the bottom of the newspaper.

The rose's stem was thick, and the thorns had not been completely removed.

The worst part is that the roots are still covered with moist, black soil.

"Clatter".

A small piece of black mud fell off from the root.

It fell onto the light-colored solid wood floor of the art center, which had just been waxed.

It broke into several pieces.

Xiao Lin, the receptionist, twitched her eye visibly.

Shu Yao gasped.

I felt my blood vessels in my brain throbbing, and my blood pressure spiked to 280.

What is this?

What is this?!

Who wraps flowers in newspaper when they send them? Who sends roses with news of a fugitive's capture? Who sends flowers with freshly unearthed black mud still at the bottom?

Did he just go into someone's field and uproot it?

Shu Yao stood frozen in place, not daring to move.

She felt as if the gazes of the parents around her had all turned into searchlights, shining directly into her face.

Burning pain.

So embarrassing.

She was relaxed and self-proclaimed a sophisticated bourgeois with an attention to detail down to the last hair.

Today, in this place where she works, in front of so many people.

You must receive a bouquet of red roses, wrapped in the Nancheng Daily newspaper and still covered in mud.

He Zheng stopped when he heard the sound of high heels and turned around.

I saw Shu Yao, frozen at the corner.

He didn't feel anything was wrong.

These flowers were carefully selected by him; they were the top-quality ones from the greenhouse, with the most vibrant colors and the largest buds.

Ninety-nine flowers, not one missing.

The packaging is sturdy, with the hemp rope tied very tightly, so it will definitely not come apart.

He carried the huge bouquet of roses in one hand, took long strides, and walked steadily toward Shu Yao.

He walked up to her and stopped.

Two people, one tall and one short, stood facing each other.

He Zheng looked down at her slightly parted lips and shocked eyes.

He didn't say anything.

He simply handed forward the heavy newspaper roses, which smelled of earth and ink, from his arms.

He tucked it into her arms.

"..."

Shu Yao instinctively reached out and caught it.

It's so heavy.

This weight is heavier than her cello.

She hugged herself tightly, and her body swayed slightly.

Bow down.

They were very close.

A complex smell instantly filled her nostrils.

The pungent smell of ink emanating from low-quality newspapers.

The smell of freshly turned black mud emanating from the greenhouse.

In addition, hundreds of red roses exude their sweet fragrance without reservation.

Three distinct flavors—rough, raw, and delicate—are blended together.

A strong chemical reaction occurred.

It doesn't smell bad, but it's absolutely amazing.

"You..." Shu Yao, holding the flowers, looked up at him.

The sound was wavy.

"Where did you pick up this flower?"

He Zheng frowned slightly.

"The greenhouse, I cut the branches myself." He said calmly, as if he were talking about something ordinary.

I cut it myself.

Shu Yao looked down at his left hand hanging at his side.

On the back of my hand, there were several thin, red scratches, fresh wounds from rose thorns.

Shu Yao's heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The burning anger stuck in his throat suddenly felt like it had been punctured by those scratches, creating a small hole.

It's leaking air.

He went to the greenhouse himself and cut the flowers one by one.

for her.

This realization made Shu Yao's expression complicated. She wanted to get angry, but couldn't; she wanted to laugh, but felt ashamed.

"And this packaging..." She gritted her teeth, pointing to the newspaper with the arrest of the fugitive printed on it, "Couldn't you have just had it wrapped by a florist?"

"There's no need," He Zheng replied crisply. "There's no time to lose."

He looked at her, his dark eyes showing no trace of guilt, but rather an air of self-righteousness.

"As long as the flower is real, the outer skin doesn't matter."

The logic of a straight man is impeccable.

Shu Yao closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The smell of newspaper ink hit me right in the head.

She lost.

In front of this man, her sophistication, her bourgeois taste, and all her convoluted schemes were shattered by his simple and brutal directness.

Inside the hall, the crowd began to whisper among themselves.

Several young female teachers couldn't help but cover their mouths and chuckle.

Shu Yao's cheeks were burning hot.

Clutching the heavy newspaper and roses, she turned and walked towards the door.

"go home!"

She gritted her teeth and threw out two words, then walked away quickly in her high heels.

I don't want to stay at this crime scene for even a second longer.

He Zheng followed behind with his hands in his pockets.

Looking at her slender back, slightly bent under the weight of the huge newspaper rose, I smiled slightly.

Just then.

Qiaoqiao, who had been watching the show from the back, finally couldn't hold back anymore.

She was standing at the corner with the cake, taking in the whole scene.

The newspaper with "Catch the Fugitive" printed on it, the yellow hemp rope used to tie the cabbages, and the clump of black mud that fell on the floor.

And then there's Shu Yao's face, a face that looks utterly lifeless yet unable to lash out.

Qiaoqiao laughed so hard she was shaking, and she could barely hold the cake plate in her hands.

She bent over, one hand covering her stomach, and quickly followed.

"Hey! Yaoyao! Why are you walking so fast!"

Qiaoqiao chased after Shuyao to the gate and blocked her way.

She looked at the flowers in Shu Yao's arms and laughed until tears almost came to her eyes.

"Hahahaha! Shu Yao, I can't take it anymore! I really can't take it anymore!"

Qiaoqiao pointed at the newspaper, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe.

Shu Yao glared at her fiercely, her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Shut up! Get out of the way!"

"No!"

Qiao Qiao was trying so hard not to laugh that her stomach hurt, and she kept giving Shu Yao meaningful glances, her eyes darting back and forth between He Zheng and Shu Yao.

Finally, my gaze settled on those thick, sturdy roots covered in black mud.

She patted Shu Yao on the shoulder, speaking earnestly, her voice brimming with barely suppressed laughter.

"Yaoyao, don't be disgusted, this is a freshly unearthed romance!"