The landlord has multiple personalities and wants everyone to pay him.

Xia Qing and Ye Shu squatted in front of the flowerpot, where a faint floral fragrance could be smelled, which smelled very nice.

She turned to Ye Shu with some curiosity and asked:

"Why does Uncle like growing flowers so much? I see a lot of people this age who like to play chess or go fishing. My dad loves to go fishing."

Ye Shu didn't look up at him, still intently staring at the small pink flower, and pinched the thorns on the dragon claw flower next to it.

After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice very faint:

"My dad actually...really hates growing flowers."

"Hate growing flowers?"

Xia Qing didn't understand what this meant. The area in front of her was clearly well-maintained, so how could it be considered unpleasant?

Why?

"Ugh, I hate it."

Ye Shu nodded. He seemed a little tired from squatting, so he rested his arms on his thighs, straightened his upper body, and stretched his back.

"My dad thinks growing flowers is too much trouble. Every day you have to remember to water them, how much to water each pot, and whether to water them at all. When the weather is nice, you have to think about which pots need to be moved outside to get some sun. You also have to prevent pests and diseases, prune and trim the branches and leaves, it's a lot of trouble. And..."

He raised his hand and gestured in a circle, pointing to the cluster of flowers of various sizes by the window:

"It takes up space."

Xia Qing listened, feeling even more confused.

If it's so troublesome and he doesn't like it that much, why does Uncle Ye still raise it? And it seems he takes it more seriously than most people.

"Then...why does Uncle still need to raise them?"

"Because my mom likes to keep them."

With just seven simple words, Xia Qing immediately understood, and then a slightly bittersweet feeling spread through her heart.

So that's how it is...

Ye Shu stared at the flowers, her voice still steady, as calm as if she were telling a story about her neighbor.

"Back then, my mom really enjoyed tending to these flowers and plants, while my dad would complain all the time, finding fault with everything. Wasn't he just creating trouble for himself? Especially in spring and autumn, when the weather was nice, my mom would make my dad move each pot of plants out into the yard to sunbathe for an hour or two. Then, worried they'd die from the sun, she'd make him move them back in one by one. My dad would mutter as he moved them, saying that this wasn't growing flowers, it was exercising, and he even complained that our water bill was always higher than other people's."

He suddenly changed the subject, looking at Xia Qing very seriously and saying:

"This is a matter that requires careful attention. Don't think that growing a potted plant is simple, just watering it and that's it. From the initial soil mix, to the material and size of the flowerpot, to the frequency of watering, how much water to give, whether to water when the soil is dry or keep it moist, and also the changes in light, temperature, and humidity... every single thing has its own rules. Different flowers prefer shade, and some are drought-tolerant. If you don't take good care of them, the leaves will turn yellow, or they will die. These are all common occurrences."

Xia Qing listened quietly from the side. Although she didn't understand why Ye Shu suddenly wanted to teach her how to grow flowers, she could still tell how complicated it was.

"At first, my dad didn't care about any of this. My mom raised him. At most, he would be conscripted to move flower pots or something, and he would mutter a few words in frustration."

Ye Shu began to recount the past in a low voice:

"Later... my mother got sick, her back couldn't bend down, and she couldn't lift things anymore. My father... he stopped complaining."

"He started taking care of the flowers, showing them how to water them, how to sun them, and how to prune them. My mom sat next to him and showed him everything, and my dad did exactly what she said."

Xia Qing seemed to be able to imagine that scene.

The sick wife sat beside him, giving instructions, while the husband, who had been complaining, was now carefully tending to the plants he used to hate.

It was no longer a burden, but companionship.

"And then..."

Ye Shu's voice became even softer, as if it wanted to melt into the sunlight before her:

My mother is gone.

Xia Qing's heart sank as well.

"During that time, my dad was completely empty-headed. He didn't care about the flowers anymore, and slowly, they all withered and died."

As he spoke, he stared at the pot of dragon claws in front of him, pinching the thorns with his hands, pausing for a long time.

Just when Xia Qing thought the story was over, he spoke again and continued:

"Then one day, I came home from school and found that my dad had cleaned up all the dead flowers. Then he went to the flower market, bought a lot of seedlings, and put them here again to start growing them again."

"He actually... still doesn't know how to grow flowers. When my mom was alive, his mind was always on her, and he didn't learn anything she taught him. Now he has to rely on himself, so he buys books to read, watches TV shows, asks other people for advice, and learns little by little. He killed quite a few plants at first, but he didn't say anything. If one died, he would just buy another one."

The sunlight shone quietly in, falling on the two of them. They automatically blocked out the sounds of conversation around them. In this corner, there was only Ye Shu's peaceful story and the silent growth of flowers.

"He said... looking at these flowers is like my mom is still nagging me, telling me which pot needs watering and which needs sun. Once he takes good care of these flowers, the house will feel more alive and less empty. It will make him feel... a little better."

Xia Qing turned her head to look at the sofa next to her. Ye Guoqiang and An Jianxing were smoking and chatting. Both of them were laughing so hard that the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes were piled up.

Judging from this scene, no matter who looks at it, he is a tough, optimistic northern man who is not easily crushed by any worries.

Looking at Uncle Ye's smiling face, and recalling the story Ye Shu had just told, Xia Qing felt a complex mix of surprise, emotion, admiration, and heartache.

It's truly unbelievable that Uncle Ye, with his standard tough-guy image, harbors such a soft, profound garden in his heart, a garden silently nurtured by the years.

In this ordinary way, he gently preserved the memory of a person.

She suddenly understood why Uncle Ye was so concerned about the packet of flower seeds she had given him.

Perhaps, it was his longing for another person who loved flowers.

The saying "love me, love my dog" applies here.

She turned her gaze away and looked at Ye Shu beside her.

Ye Shuzheng turned his head and looked at the five-drawer chest placed next to the door of the inner room behind him.

Xia Qing followed his gaze.

On the chest of drawers, in a place where no one would accidentally bump into it, there was a black photo frame.

Inside the frame was a black and white photograph, showing a woman gazing tenderly in this direction.

The photo was placed at the perfect angle, facing directly towards the flowers.