Chapter 91

Zhenzhen saw through her consciousness that Xi Junjie was standing at the doorway, touching his face with a look of self-doubt, so she quickly added, “Oh, Dad, looks are just one part of it. What matters is that I really like him as a person.” As if afraid Li Muwu wouldn’t believe her, Zhenzhen nodded earnestly. “I really like him.”

Li Muwu looked gloomily at his daughter, then turned to Wang Sufen with irritation: “You have a good talk with your daughter. A girl should know how to be reserved—how can she be so thick-skinned? Saying she likes someone so bluntly like that—people will laugh at her!”

Wang Sufen rolled her eyes at him. “What are you looking at me for? You know she’s been braver than boys since she was little. Besides, who would dare laugh at my daughter, right Zhenzhen? If he laughs, then forget it, she won’t be with him.”

Grandma Li was sitting cross-legged in her chair munching on an apple. At her age, it was impressive she still had such good teeth. With nothing to do, she liked gnawing on apples or cracking sunflower seeds—everything tasted good to her. Crunching on a bite of apple, she looked proudly at her granddaughter. “Actually, our Zhenzhen takes after me. When I was her age, I was pretty bold too. Back then, a bunch of young lads in our village took a liking to me and sent matchmakers to our house, but I didn’t fancy any of them—only liked your grandpa. I went straight up to him and said, ‘If you like me, go propose.’ And he came.”

Li Muwu looked at Grandma Li with black lines on his face. “Mom, you have that kind of history? How come I’ve never heard it before?”

Grandma Li gave him a look. “Back then, we didn’t even have enough to eat—who had the mood to talk about old love stories? I think Zhenzhen’s way is good. A marriage lasts a lifetime. Whether it works or not, she’ll know best. What are you worrying about?”

“You don’t know him well enough,” Wang Sufen said with a smirk, glancing at Li Muwu and jutting her chin deliberately. “Even if Zhenzhen found a god who descended from the heavens, he’d still find faults.”

Li Muwu pouted and snorted. “My daughter’s no worse than any god.”

Seeing the topic veering further off course, Zhenzhen quickly gave a couple of light coughs. “Why don’t we talk about something more meaningful—like what to eat for lunch? So I can go prepare it.”

“No need for you to do anything.” Wang Sufen immediately pulled her over and sat her next to Grandma Li. “You finally have a few days off—just chat with your grandma. I’ll cook lunch. Just tell me what you want to eat.”

Zhenzhen didn’t have any particular cravings and didn’t want Wang Sufen to go to too much trouble. Glancing at the gloomy weather outside, she said, “Let’s just make some dough drop soup. It’s warm and comforting.”

Hearing that no one was talking about him anymore, Xi Junjie finally breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped back a few paces and then raised his voice, calling out, “Grandma Li, Auntie Li, are you home?”

Recognizing the familiar voice, Li Muwu stomped over and opened the door aggressively. “Your Grandpa Li is home.”

“Hello, Grandpa Li,” Xi Junjie greeted with a beaming smile. “Didn’t you go out today? When I left, I saw everyone heading to Grandpa Wang’s to play chess.”

Li Muwu stepped aside to let him in. “Your dad didn’t go, so it’s no fun by myself.” Li Muwu had learned to play chess from Xi Changbo but was barely passable at it. Aside from Xi Changbo, only two other beginners were willing to play with him. When the masters in the alley had a match, he could only stand by and watch.

“Your dad really went back to work?” Li Muwu asked. He hadn’t seen Xi Changbo in half a month, and with no one left to banter with, he was feeling pretty bored.

“He’s been working for two weeks now,” Xi Junjie replied with a smile, not elaborating further.

Xi Changbo had been forced into early medical retirement due to political movements, even though he wasn’t yet at the retirement age. Given the chaos of that era, retiring safely without major consequences was already considered lucky. As such, Xi Changbo didn’t take his forced retirement too seriously. He spent his days fishing and playing chess, enjoying a peaceful life.

But now the political campaigns had ended, and with the country announcing reform and opening-up, all sectors needed development, and a shortage of talent had become evident. People like Xi Changbo, still in their prime, were the first to be recalled to duty—he returned to work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In this neighborhood alone, several people like him were called back, and half of Li Muwu’s chess buddies suddenly disappeared. He was left feeling depressed, constantly craning his neck outside, wondering if any granary was going to invite him back to work.

Even though he knew Xi Changbo had gone back to work, Li Muwu still couldn’t help asking again. When he heard the expected answer, he looked a little dejected, rolled his eyes at Xi Junjie, and muttered, “Father and son—both annoying,” then walked out with his hands behind his back.

Seeing Li Muwu like that, Zhenzhen thought to herself that she should stew some medicinal food for him tonight—those were clearly menopausal symptoms.

Wang Sufen ignored Li Muwu and smiled as she invited Xi Junjie to sit. “Why are you here by yourself? Why didn’t your mom come over for a chat?”

“She’s in the greenhouse tending to her flowers,” Xi Junjie said, placing the hairtail fish to the side. “My dad got some really good fish—thick and meaty. My mom told me to bring a box over for Grandma and Auntie to try.”

“You silly child, we’re neighbors, and you and Zhenzhen are dating—why so polite?” Wang Sufen poured him a big cup of tea and brought over some snacks like pine nuts and apples to the table beside him.

Xi Junjie quickly stood up to thank her, only sitting down after Wang Sufen did. “Precisely because I’m dating Zhenzhen that I should visit more often—let Grandma, Uncle, and Auntie take a good look at me, right?”

Wang Sufen beamed and said to Grandma Li, “Mom, just listen to how sweet this boy talks.”

Grandma Li genuinely liked Xi Junjie too. Over the past few months, he’d visited the Li family frequently—either chatting with the elders, weeding the garden, cleaning the pond, or cooking up a storm to win over his future bride. Even Xi Changbo couldn’t help but roll his eyes jealously, saying that Xi Junjie worked harder at the Lis’ than at his own home.

Zhenzhen was the apple of Grandma Li’s eye. Unlike Li Muwu, who got jealous at anyone getting close to his daughter, Grandma Li’s philosophy was: if her granddaughter liked him, then he was good enough—if not, even a celestial being wouldn’t be worth it. With Zhenzhen’s help, Xi Junjie quickly won the favor of both Grandma Li and Wang Sufen.

After chatting with Grandma Li for a while, Xi Junjie got up to say goodbye. Although he said he was leaving, his feet didn’t move—he kept staring at Zhenzhen, reluctant to part. Seeing that, Grandma Li immediately understood: these two lovebirds wanted to go on a date.

She took a sip of water and, seeing Zhenzhen winking at her, said, “Well then, Zhenzhen, why don’t you go check on Auntie Ling’s flowers at Junjie’s house? Maybe they wilted again and she couldn’t make it over. Go give her a hand.”

“Okay!” Zhenzhen jumped up from the chair, happily grabbed Xi Junjie’s hand, and they walked out together. Grandma Li craned her neck to watch them holding hands and laughing as they ran off, sighing with emotion, “Ah, youth really is wonderful. Look how happy our Zhenzhen is.”

Wang Sufen couldn’t help but remind her, “Mom, they’re holding hands.”

Grandma Li paused, smacked her lips. “I saw it—it was Zhenzhen who reached out to hold his hand. We didn’t lose out.”

Wang Sufen: “……”
—

Since they had left under the pretense of checking on Ling Xiulan’s flowers, the two first headed to the Ling family’s greenhouse. This used to be the flower conservatory of a prince’s residence. After the Xi family moved in, Ling Xiulan had cleaned it up and continued raising flowers there. She loved flowers dearly, keeping over a hundred pots of all varieties, including many delicate and rare species that needed constant attention.

Xi Junjie opened the greenhouse door, and Zhenzhen walked in, calling, “Auntie Ling.”

Ling Xiulan smiled as soon as she saw her. She pulled off her gloves, pushed the sweaty hair from her forehead behind her ears, and waved Zhenzhen over. “What’ve you been up to at home? Haven’t seen you these past two days.”

Zhenzhen smiled and replied, “I went to the bookstore the other day and bought a few books. I’ve been reading at home.” As she walked up beside Ling Xiulan, she noticed a pot of peony buds on the ground starting to wilt and asked in surprise, “Weren’t these flowers doing just fine a couple of days ago?”

In half a month, it would be Xi Junjie’s grandmother’s birthday. The elderly lady had no other hobbies but loved peonies. Ling Xiulan had started trying to cultivate them in the greenhouse a month ago. Zhenzhen, who came back home every weekend, always stopped by to check the peonies and helped adjust the greenhouse temperature according to their condition. The buds had already reached the pre-bloom stage, and as long as the greenhouse temperature didn’t drop sharply, the bloom rate should have been unaffected.

Ling Xiulan also looked a bit troubled. “I found it strange too. Grandma’s birthday is coming up soon. I had timed it perfectly so the peonies would bloom right on her birthday, but now I’m not even sure they’ll survive.” She saw Zhenzhen lowering her head to examine the peonies and her eyes lit up. She quickly stood up and made room for Zhenzhen. “That’s right, Zhenzhen, you’re the best at tending flowers. Take a look for Auntie, what’s wrong with them? I’ve done everything right—watering and fertilizing like clockwork—and yet they’re still wilting!”

Zhenzhen crouched down and gently touched the petals. She connected her consciousness to the eight budding peonies in the greenhouse and wrapped them tightly together: “Cold… cold… so cold… so uncomfortable…”

The peonies’ thoughts flooded into Zhenzhen’s mind. She looked back in surprise at the thermometer placed beside the flowers, which Ling Xiulan had specially ordered from a research institute—highly accurate.

“21.5°C. That should be fine. Why would they feel cold?” Zhenzhen tilted her head in puzzlement.

“Cold?” Because the greenhouse was warm, Ling Xiulan was wearing only a shirt. She quickly pulled out the notes stacked on a nearby shelf, crammed with detailed care instructions. Scanning them quickly, she found the relevant section: “During the bud-forming stage, maintain daytime temperatures between 20 and 22°C, nighttime between 16 and 18°C…” She looked at Zhenzhen and said hastily, “That’s exactly what I’ve done. Every night before bed, I adjust the heater. The fluctuation hasn’t exceeded a degree.”

Zhenzhen looked again at the peony closest to her and merged her consciousness fully with it. After about a minute, she let go and stood up. “Last night, the flower was exposed to cold for about three hours.”

Although Ling Xiulan didn’t know how Zhenzhen could pinpoint the exact time and date the flower had been chilled, she had indeed noticed the wilting starting that morning. She thought back carefully. “I came to check on the flowers around noon yesterday. All eight peonies were fine. Later in the afternoon, Junjie’s cousin and aunt came over, so I didn’t come back. But I didn’t take them into the greenhouse.” Speaking of her sister-in-law, Ling Xiulan’s expression was visibly displeased, but she kept her complaints to herself in front of her future daughter-in-law.

Zhenzhen, who had read plenty of family intrigue novels in her past life, instantly imagined a whole host of scenarios. Her eyes sparkled as she asked, “Are things usually good between you and them?”

Ling Xiulan shook her head. “Junjie’s aunt and I never got along since we were kids. When I married Changbo, she threw a huge fit and even dragged a girl who had a crush on him to our house to stir up trouble.” Remembering those events still annoyed her. “Later, we moved to France and lost contact for years. When we returned, the political climate was rough, and her husband was heavily targeted. Their whole family was sent to the northwest for reeducation and only got reassigned back here last year.” Summing up their relationship, she said, “Now we just maintain appearances. We only see each other once a month at the old house, putting on a friendly front for the elders.”

“Then why did they suddenly visit? Did they already know you planned to gift peonies for Grandma’s birthday?” Zhenzhen couldn’t help but ask.

“I mentioned it during dinner at the old house, just casually, because the buds had just formed and I wanted to make Grandma happy.” Ling Xiulan frowned at the memory. “Yesterday they said they were just passing by after shopping and stopped to rest. Then Junjie’s cousin insisted on staying over, saying it was closer to see the sunrise from here. Since I live in the main courtyard and Junjie’s quarters are in the second compound, I arranged for them to stay in the embroidery tower out back. I sometimes rest there while walking in the garden—it’s always kept clean and ready for guests.”

Zhenzhen relayed this information back to the peonies. The flowers reacted as if triggered, letting out a collective whimper: “Windy… blowing… cold…”

Zhenzhen withdrew her hand and sighed. “It’s very likely she moved the flowers outside. The peonies weren’t just chilled—they were exposed to the night wind, which is why the buds turned black.”

“What should I do now?” Ling Xiulan was anxious. After all, it was Grandma’s 80th birthday, and many guests would be attending. She had already promised eight blooming peonies. If they didn’t blossom, Grandma would surely be disappointed. Seeing Zhenzhen deep in thought, she quickly grasped her hand. “Zhenzhen, help Auntie think of something. Can they still be saved?”

“Yes,” Zhenzhen nodded. Ling Xiulan immediately relaxed, joy and relief spreading across her face like she’d been saved from collapse. Zhenzhen helped her sit down and handed her a towel to wipe her sweat. “But the process is complicated. Just to be safe, we should move them to my room so I can personally care for them. Don’t worry—by the time of Grandma’s birthday, I promise you’ll have eight peonies in full bloom, true national treasures.”

In fact, with Zhenzhen’s abilities, even if the flowers had been frozen to death in snow, as long as there was a sliver of root, she could revive them into a breathtaking display of peonies. But she couldn’t reveal her powers. She had to carry out the recovery under the guise of attentive care, and moving them to her room was a necessary part of that.

Previously, some of Ling Xiulan’s flowers had suffered from overwatering, some from lack of fertilizer. Zhenzhen could pinpoint every issue with just a glance. Under her guidance, Ling Xiulan’s plants had steadily improved, which made her trust Zhenzhen immensely—believing that if Zhenzhen said the flowers could be saved, then they absolutely would be.

Ling Xiulan brought out the custom windshields she had ordered, covering each pot. The three of them made two or three trips and finally moved all the peonies into Zhenzhen’s room.

After working hard all morning, Zhenzhen brewed tea. Ling Xiulan washed her face and hands in the room, and when Grandma Li and Wang Sufen heard the commotion, they came over. Seeing the wilted, blackened buds all over the room, Grandma Li immediately reassured her. “Don’t worry, Zhenzhen knows everything about plants. She’ll definitely save them.”

Ling Xiulan beamed even brighter. “You have no idea, Auntie. Ever since I saw those blackened buds this morning, I haven’t been able to relax. If it weren’t for Zhenzhen’s skills, I wouldn’t even know where to find eight blooming peonies for my mother-in-law’s birthday.”

“So it’s a birthday gift? No wonder you were sweating buckets.” Grandma Li, noticing her pale lips, quickly urged her to drink more hot water.

With warm tea in hand, Ling Xiulan gradually calmed down and began to look around Zhenzhen’s room. Though Zhenzhen and Grandma Li lived in the main courtyard, Ling Xiulan usually only visited the main room or hall. This was her first time in Zhenzhen’s personal space.

Because it was autumn and the sunlight wasn’t as strong, Zhenzhen had removed the screen dividers to make the space look brighter. All three rooms were connected, creating a spacious and open layout.

One side of the room had a bookshelf filled with books. Judging by the condition and wear of the pages, they were often read. Some were so worn the bindings were loose—clearly well-loved. Beside the bookshelf was a window-side desk and chair with a small stack of books on top, the uppermost one marked with a bookmark—likely what Zhenzhen was currently reading. Next to the desk was a guqin table, holding an ancient guqin. It looked quite old, though the tassel was newly woven.

Against the opposite wall stood a jade-green table with brushes, ink, paper, and an inkstone, facing the desk across the room.

Ling Xiulan glanced at the blank sheet on the table and smiled. “Do you like calligraphy or painting?”

Zhenzhen smiled modestly. “A little of both.”

Grandma Li loved showing off her granddaughter. “A little?” she scoffed. “You’re selling her short.” She stood up and pointed to the wall behind them. “That painting and calligraphy in the center were done by her teacher. The one on that wall was painted by Zhenzhen herself.”

Turning to look, Ling Xiulan was stunned to see that the center piece was by Su Weiran, a master of traditional Chinese painting. Su had been famous even before the revolution, and it was said that the landscape painting in the highest leader’s office was one of his. He disappeared for ten years during the political campaigns, but when he reemerged, his work had reached new heights—effortless and elegant, with a greater sense of freedom.

Though Su Weiran still painted, he only gifted his work to close friends and family. No amount of money could buy one. Rumor had it that someone with a high-ranking position recently tried to pressure him with power, only to be thrown out, and even received a warning from above. After all these turbulent years, the country now treated artists like Su as national treasures—anyone who couldn’t see that was simply blind to reality.