Tiêu đề Four O'Clock Flower Chapters 23 - 25 ✅

“I do this to make myself happy. Blissful in both body and mind, okay?” Mao Wanjing raised her brows and laughed. “Haven’t you heard that people who don’t like sweets have pain in their hearts?” Zheng Siqi’s hands that were tearing open a coffee bag faltered. He smiled and asked, “Is that true?” “Who knows. That’s what they all say online.” The rain outside the windows stopped for a moment. The lushly green red-stemmed creepers lingering on the walls outside were no longer trembling and beaten into bowing and scraping, and were instead echoing the rhythm of the water dripping from the eaves and the light breeze in the air, a quiver with each drop, a sway with each breath. Zheng Siqi opened the window and carried the devil’s ivy on his desk over to the sink to change the water. The pale yellow roots had already grown dense and he could no longer force it out of the glass container. A buzzing sound came from his desk. Mao Wanjing swallowed the crumbled cookie in her mouth. “Lao-Zheng, your phone.” “See who’s it, I can’t free my hands.” Zheng Siqi folded his sleeves up. Mao Wanjing got up, held her cardigan in place and reached past the divider to take the phone. “Qiao Fengtian. Shall I answer for you?” Zheng Siqi put the glass container on the counter and shook the water droplets off his hands. He walked over briskly. “I’ll answer it myself.” “Whoa, whoa.” Mao Wanjing shrugged and made a face, her butt back on her chair. “No one’s jumping at the chance to help you answer your phone.”
Zheng Siqi took his phone out to the corridor, walking towards the window high on the wall at the end. His pace was more rushed than usual, as though afraid that before he reached a quiet spot, the other person would have hung up. “Hmm?” Zheng Siqi nudged his glasses. “Fengtian.” Thinking about it and counting carefully, the number of times Zheng Siqi had said the man’s name properly wasn’t a lot. When he said it, it sounded unpractised, like he was unfamiliar with the shape of the words. Just like flipping through the yearbook and coming to the page of an old friend of whom the memories were no longer fresh, and subconsciously wanting to try reading out the name properly. “Teacher Zheng.” Zheng Siqi wanted to laugh. “Student Qiao. Are you calling to hand in your 3000-word essay?” On the other end, Qiao Fengtian paused for a long while, unspeaking, his every inhalation and exhalation still clearly audible. Zheng Siqi couldn’t help feeling worried. A smile still on his lips, he continued to ask, “What is it?” “Can I see you? I want to talk to you.” Qiao Fengtian seemed to be stammering, the hesitation, probing, pleading and hope in his words melding together. The phone filtered out some but still they came through with nothing held back, making Zheng Siqi’s heart soften unquestionably in that very moment. “Sure. Come here.”
Zheng Siqi hung up. All of a sudden, there was a bit of a soft, wondrous feeling. In the light wind and drizzle, there was someone rushing to him. This kind of excessively poetic imagery could unexpectedly give him quite a bit of delight, like the little fox in The Little Prince looking forward to meeting his dear friend. Even if the person rushing to him might only be bringing with him a heart full of melancholy, it still did not stop the tiny anticipation in his heart brewing silently. When the rain suddenly began to fall rapidly again, pitter-pattering against the window ledge, Zheng Siqi finally recalled that he hadn’t asked Qiao Fengtian if he had an umbrella. “Lend me your umbrella.” Mao Wanjing had torn open a packet of pineapple cakes at some point and was just putting a piece into her mouth. “Didn’t you bring one with you? At the rack at the door, the one with purple flowers on a white background.” “Thanks.” Zheng Siqi picked up the jacket draped on the back of his chair. “Hey, where’re you going? Aren’t you going to pick up Zao’er soon?” Mao Wanjing turned her head, watching him walk out. “I’m going to pick someone up.” “Who?” Mao Wanjing continued to crane her neck and asked. “Who d’you think?” “Qiao Fengtian? That fair and clean-looking boy with a cap from the last time?” Her eyes crinkled in an astute smile. “Who’s he? Not from our school, is he?” Zheng Siqi shook out his jacket and put it on. “Guess.”