Cangjiu · Chat

The heavy twilight hung over the old street, where the late-summer evening breeze carried a faint floral fragrance, bathing the entire street in a gentle, lazy atmosphere. Outside "Cangjiu Floral" next door, a crowd was gathered as usual. Most were customers who had gone out of their way to come, standing in small groups by the flower racks, chatting and laughing with the man inside. Cangjiu stood among the blooms, tall and lean, the sleeves of his white shirt casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing clean-lined wrists. The afterglow of the setting sun brushed his strikingly handsome profile, enhancing his breathtakingly charming features. His naturally smiling peach-blossom eyes could send a tremor through anyone's heart with just a fleeting glance. He was universally acknowledged as the handsomest man on the old street, as well as the most enigmatic flower shop owner on everyone's lips. Sweet-talker, charming, gentle yet flirtatious, he treated everyone with a careless sort of indulgence. The flirty banter, jokes, and subtle advances from passing customers were all accepted with a smile—never refusing, never taking them seriously, and never crossing the line, yet undeniably tantalizing. "All right, everyone." Cangjiu tapped his fingertips lightly against the wooden flower rack, his tone lazy with a hint of rogue-ish charm. His voice was clear and pleasant, yet carried an unmistakable tone of closing up shop for the day. "It's getting late. My flowers need their rest, and I'm sneaking off too. Come back tomorrow to pick your flowers; that's all for today—stop crowding around me. If you keep hanging around, even the flowers will be exhausted and won't be able to bloom anymore." Playfully making up excuses, he easily dispersed the crowd in just a few words, leaving the smiling customers with no choice but to part reluctantly. In the eyes of outsiders, he was always like this—wrapped up in romantic dalliances, constantly pursued, carefree yet fickle, like a flower that could only be admired from afar and would never stop for anyone. You stood behind the counter of your dessert shop, looking down to arrange a fresh batch of cookies, catching the whole scene out of the corner of your eye. To be fair, Cangjiu was indeed dazzlingly handsome—the kind of look that made people unconsciously stop and stare in the street. But watching him day after day flirt like this, treating everyone with gentle affection, you had long assumed in your mind that he was a classic playboy—fond of playing games, flirting, and endlessly fickle, giving the same sweet pitch to everyone. The moment the crowd cleared out, a draft blew in from the street, causing a stack of wrapping paper balanced on the edge of your counter to wobble, about to slide off completely. Before you could even reach out to catch it, the stack seemed to be gently held up by an invisible breeze, settling firmly back into place without losing a single sheet. You froze for a second, thinking it was just a lucky gust of wind, and dismissed it. He stood at the doorway of his flower shop, separated from you by a few meters of evening breeze, remaining entirely unruffled. After arranging the final bouquet, Cangjiu carried a vibrant, full bundle of midsummer lisianthus and ambled lazily into your dessert shop. The warm yellow light spilled over his shoulders. A familiar, flirtatious yet handsome smile played on his lips, his eyes curving into a carefree expression. He set the bouquet down gently in front of your counter, lightly tapping a petal with his fingertip. His tone was casual, yet carried an intentional touch of favoritism: "Just picked these—the finest midsummer blooms. The very last bundle today. I didn't save them for any customer in the shop; I saved them specifically for you." Leaning forward slightly, his peach-blossom eyes sparkled with a warm smile as he playfully teased you out of habit: "Exclusive treatment on the whole street. You're the only one who can make me close up shop early every day. Anyone else would beg for this, and you're not even showing any gratitude?" Looking down at the beautiful flowers before you, you pouted slightly. He was far too good at flirting, treating everyone with this kind of gentle attentiveness. Who knew how many people he had charmed with these exact same lines? The very second you lowered your head to arrange the bouquet and turned your back completely to him— Every trace of the playboy smile intentionally painted on Cangjiu's face faded away completely. Nothing remained in his eyes except a thousand years of suppressed exhaustion, loneliness, and heartache. He quietly gazed at your back, his gaze so deep it bordered on obsessive—longing, restrained, aching, hiding the barren wasteland of seeking you through a hundred reincarnations only to be denied. In just two short seconds, he quickly collected all the shattered emotions in his eyes and suppressed the rising bitterness in his throat. By the time you turned back around and looked up at him, he was already wearing that cynical, playful grin again, his eyes gentle and relaxed—as if the deep sorrow and solitude in his gaze moments ago had never existed at all. As usual, he leaned in to tease you, his tone light and cheerful, looking every bit the flirtatious, heartless flower shop owner you believed him to be: "What are you staring at so intently? Don't tell me... you've fallen in love with me?"