webnovelfull Chapter 8 Taking Flowers to See Yukimura
Chapter 8 Taking Flowers to See Yukimura
After washing up, I went downstairs.
Wang Yueling pulled an old-fashioned earthenware pot from the cupboard. It was a pot that her maternal grandfather used to use when he was alive. It made soup and porridge very fragrant. He brought it with him when they moved.
The peanuts were soaked last night before bed, and the skins have already softened.
He sat down at the table and began peeling peanuts one by one.
The movements were not fast, but very skillful.
With a pinch of your fingers, the skin comes off, and the white peanut kernel falls into the bowl with a soft, rustling sound.
He definitely wouldn't have done this in his previous life. Back then, all he did was train, and he found even cooking instant noodles too much trouble. But in this life, having lived with his family for so long, he's gradually learned that some things can't be rushed, and taking things slowly brings a sense of peace.
Pour the shelled peanuts into an earthenware pot, add warm water and rock sugar, and simmer over low heat on the stove.
The flames licked the bottom of the pot, and a bubbling sound soon filled the air, adding a touch of warmth to the quiet morning.
After doing all that, he changed into a light gray quick-drying tracksuit and went out for his morning exercise.
Fifteen years immersed in French culture have etched refinement and languor into his very being. Even during his morning exercise, his back is ramrod straight, his shoulders and neck relaxed yet not slumped, and every step he takes carries an effortless elegance.
The house wasn't big, but it was still over 300 meters long when you walked around it. He jogged along the stone path of the outer courtyard wall, from the rose wall on the left to the ginkgo tree street behind, and then to the tree-lined path on the right, circling around and around until he had run 10 kilometers before stopping to stretch and relax.
Sweat trickled down his chin, and Wang Yueling casually wiped it away with his wristband, his breathing remaining steady.
When I returned from the run, it was already broad daylight.
The entire courtyard was filled with the sweet aroma of peanut milk.
He took a pair of gardening shears and walked around the yard. He walked to the rose bush in the corner of the yard, and with his slender fingers he gently pinched the flower stem and cut off a pale pink rose that was in full bloom. The petals were still covered with morning dew and looked very bright.
Carefully remove the thorns and place the roses in a white porcelain vase on the dining table.
I adjusted the angle repeatedly, took two steps back to look at it, and turned it around again until I was satisfied.
He turned and went into the kitchen, his movements swift and gentle, the dishes clinking together barely making a sound. He made tamagoyaki (Japanese rolled omelet), cooked miso soup, sliced some pickled cucumber, and set out warm rice—his grandmother's favorite Japanese breakfast. Through observing his grandmother over this time, he noticed the miso soup was a little saltier, the rice a little softer, and he even added extra sugar to the tamagoyaki because she had recently mentioned wanting it sweeter.
After breakfast was set out, Wang Yueling moved a small bamboo chair and sat down next to the flower bed, tending to the flowers and plants in the manner of her grandfather.
He trimmed away the withered branches, shaping the dwarf cypress into a rounded silhouette with decisive, focused movements. When his grandfather was alive, he always loved to sit in this spot tending to the plants. Back then, he was just a child, always watching from the side. Now, with each gesture, he even bears a resemblance to his grandfather.
"Ling, you look like your maternal grandfather when he was young."
His grandmother had gotten up sometime earlier and was standing on the porch watching him, wearing a coat and speaking with a nostalgic tone.
Wang Yueling hummed in agreement, paused with the scissors in her hand, looked up and smiled, her eyebrows curving upwards with a youthful cheerfulness, but her tone was firm: "Then I have to do better than him."
He regretted it as soon as he said it; it was really inappropriate.
Grandmother's gaze fell on Wang Yueling's busy back, her eyes slightly reddened, she raised her hand to wipe the corner of her eyes, and said nothing more.
Wang Yueling pretended not to notice and bent down to cut off the crooked pine branch, but he kept listening to the sounds behind him. After a while, he heard his grandmother sniffle softly.
He didn't turn around, nor did he say anything.
Sometimes, pretending not to know is the best comfort.
Grandmother stood there for a while, then turned and went back into the house.
Wang Yueling heard her footsteps echo behind her a few times before disappearing.
The yard fell silent again, with only the snip-snip sound of scissors cutting branches.
My thoughts are churning.
He remembered the car accident.
In his previous life, he was driving to the US Open finals venue when he passed the Wall Street intersection and saw a car full of gasoline heading straight for the school bus. He barely hesitated, turned the steering wheel, and crashed into it.
In the instant of the explosion, there was no time for a flashback.
The children on the school bus were safe and sound, but he was forever frozen in that afternoon.
He has never regretted it.
But last night's vivid dream made him think a lot.
Thinking of the fans who have always supported him, the coach who accompanied him from obscurity to the top of the world, and the agent who is always busy by his side, he felt a little guilty.
In his previous life, he was born for tennis and died for his heroic beliefs, but ultimately he failed to live up to the expectations of many people.
In this life, he has a maternal grandmother, parents, and grandfather, a complete family, and the opportunity to meet the person he wants to protect.
He wants to live a better life, cherish every day, and protect everyone he cares about.
……
"Ling, have breakfast," Grandma called from inside the house.
"They're here."
He put the scissors away, washed his hands, and went into the restaurant.
Grandmother was already sitting at the table, with miso soup and tamagoyaki in front of her. She was reaching out to touch the petals of the rose he had placed on the table. She didn't say anything, but her smile was gentle.
The two sat facing each other eating, barely saying a word.
My grandmother didn't eat much; she only ate half a bowl of rice, but she ate several pieces of tamagoyaki (Japanese rolled omelet).
"Grandma, is the tamagoyaki (Japanese rolled omelet) delicious?"
Wangyue Ling asked knowingly.
The grandmother looked at her grandson's mischievous appearance and sighed softly:
"It is too sweet."
But he picked up another piece and started eating it.
Wang Yueling smiled silently, not exposing her.
After breakfast, Grandma went to the kitchen, took out a food box, wrapped it in a pretty cloth, and handed it to him.
I made it last night; I don't know if people will like it.
Wang Yueling took the food box and opened it. Inside were two rows of wagashi (Japanese sweets), which were made in a delicate and refined manner. Next to them was a small bag of mung bean cakes, which were arranged neatly.
"Grandma, you even made mung bean cakes?" Wang Yueling was a little surprised.
"Don't you love to eat this? I made a little extra so you can share it with your friends later."
Wang Yueling felt a warmth in her heart upon hearing this.
My grandmother's "by the way" was never a simple "by the way".
"Thank you, Grandma, he'll definitely love it."
He went to the kitchen, scooped out half of the peanut milk that had been simmering for a long time and left it for his grandmother, and put the rest into a thermos.
The peanut milk was stewed to perfection, with the right consistency and a wonderful aroma.
As Mochizuki Ryo thought about how Yukimura would eat sweet and sticky snacks and drink warm peanut milk, his mood would always be happier, and the corners of his lips would unconsciously turn up.
Tighten the lid and place it with the food container.
"What's that child's name?" The grandmother looked at Ling, who was grinning inexplicably, with some curiosity and asked.
"Yukimura Seiichi."
"Seiichi," Grandmother said with a smile, continuing to arrange the roses on the table, nodding. "A very elegant name."
"Can your friend drink this?"
"Yes, I asked." Actually, he didn't ask, but he messaged the medical team and found out that peanut milk is good for nerve recovery, which is why he chose to do it.
Wang Yueling changed her clothes and stood in front of the mirror for a while.
He wore a cream-colored knit sweater paired with khaki casual pants, a simple and appropriate look with a touch of refined elegance. He deliberately avoided wearing anything too flashy, wanting to meet Yukimura in the most comfortable way possible.
However, after this makeover...
So handsome!
-
"Go to Jinjing General Hospital."
Sitting in the family's luxury car, Wang Yueling leaned back in her seat, her fingers gently tapping her knees, feeling a mix of anticipation and inexplicable nervousness.
When the car arrived at a flower shop, Wang Yueling asked the driver to stop.
As he pushed open the door to the flower shop, the fragrance of flowers wafted towards him. His gaze swept over the various bouquets, finally settling on the pure white daisies.
"Could you get me a bunch of white daisies? Do you have any pale purple calamus in the store?" He asked, not seeing any flowers he liked.
"Yes, it just arrived this morning."
The shop owner carried a large basket of calamus out of the storage room, glanced at Wang Yueling several times, and thought that this handsome young man really knew his stuff.
Young people generally don't buy calamus flowers.
Wang Yueling wrapped the flowers herself, using light blue wrapping paper, white daisies, and a few blue-purple gradient calamus. The combination was simple yet layered.
Simple yet sophisticated.
Watching his skillful and exquisite floral arrangement, the shop owner admired him inwardly and asked softly, "Is it for a patient?"
"Um."
"These flowers are a good choice; they're fresh and not overpowering, perfect for a hospital room."
Wang Yueling, holding the flowers, paid the money and got back into the car.
Gently brushing the petals, she murmured to herself, "The daisy's purity and resilience, the calamus's mystery and elegance, are just like you."
The tenderness in his voice was impossible to hide.