Chapter 572

The blooming roses in Stanley Park remind Huangliang of the mountain red in his hometown. Layer by layer, piece by piece, like a spreading flame, dyed the mountain red and the sky red.

When azaleas bloom, he likes to run to the top of the mountain alone, lie in the flowers and look at the blue sky and white clouds. There are flowers under his body, flowers at his feet, flowers on his head, flowers in his hands and flowers all around him. He can feel the vitality of flowers with vigorous vitality and fire like enthusiasm.

Why do these flowers bloom so brightly? Obviously, their lives are very short!

Why are the clouds floating so leisurely in the sky? When the wind comes, they disperse!

Behind the clouds is the blue sky. What is behind the blue sky? Is there still life there?

He is obsessed with this fantasy, but it is a luxury for rural children. Only when he is completely relaxed in the brilliant flowers can he have time to think about these boring problems.

My sister always came to find him in the evening, and her warbler's voice came from the wind with the fragrance of flowers:

"Hey, brother -- where are you --"

He casually folded a flower from the flowers, pinched the flower stem, held the flower high and shook it in the air. My sister walked through the flowers like a butterfly. When she was close, she rushed over, rushed into my brother's arms, took up the dancing petals, giggled and said:

"Brother lazy, I have caught you!"

……

Huangliang seemed to have a dream. He has enough ability to distinguish between dream and reality. If the thorn of the rose didn't wake him up, he would rather live in a dream all the time.

Martha picked roses in the designated area. Although the wolfs have privileges, they can't fool around. After all, it's a public place.

Huang Liang sat down on a deserted path in the rose garden. The roses around him swayed gently in the morning wind. The fragrance of the flowers was intoxicating. He was immersed in inexplicable fantasy.

Martha's voice came from the wind:

"Huang -- where are you --"

He forgot that roses were different from YINGSHANHONG. Roses were covered with thorns. He heard the call of the warbler. Like pulling a cuckoo in the past, he grabbed a stem and held it high, but the palm of his hand was stabbed with blood.

Martha is also like a butterfly, light through the flowers, a few rose petals brought by her, followed her dress and danced in the wind.

"Aha, I found you. I thought you were gone!"

"For you," said Huang Liang, holding the rose in his hand.

Martha's heart pounded and looked up at him bravely. The wind around suddenly stopped, and the color and fragrance of all the roses solidified in the distance, leaving only the one in his hand, gorgeous, like the fire in the sky, and stained with blood like flowers and colors.

She took the rose from his hand and suddenly saw the blood oozing from his palm flowing slowly down the rose stem.

"Ah, your hand is bleeding!"

Martha put the roses into the basket full of flowers, grabbed Huang Liang's hand, carefully pulled out some thorns left on her skin, gently blew a few breaths, and said anxiously:

"You have to pull out all the thorns. The administrator has tools. You need to wrap up. Come with me quickly!"

Masala took the sorghum to the Management Office of the rose garden. The administrator was an old lady. She looked at the palm of Huangliang and said, "it's not more surprising to see someone picking roses like this for the first time, even if they were stabbed on their face! Where did you stab them, not in the public viewing area?"

Martha gently shook her head at Huang Liang and motioned him not to speak.

The old lady looked at them and said as she helped him pull out the thorn with a tool: "Don't try to hide it from me. I know every flower here. Young people can play romance, but they should obey the rules. I was young too! Do you know why I like it here? Because my wife and I met here in Stanley Park. At that time, there were not so many roses here, only wild flowers that couldn't be named. When we met here, he picked one for me every time He also said he would build a Rose Manor for me! "

Huang Liang asked, "did your wife build this rose garden?"

"Here?" the old lady was stunned. "Oh, no, no, of course not. This is a public facility. Mr. Wolff paid, so Miss Martha has the privilege of picking flowers."

"What about your wife?"

"He has gone to see God long ago. I think he has built a rose garden in heaven, waiting for me to go!"

……

While the old lady was chatting with Huang Liang, Martha carefully removed the thorns of the rose with scissors and wrapped the flower in paper. She found that the flower was particularly bright and fragrant. In addition to the flower fragrance, she also smelled a faint smell of blood, but it was not fishy at all, but made the fragrance of the rose special. She remembered a poem:

The rose that passes through the lover's hand is always stained with the taste of the lover.

The old lady helped Huang Liang pull out the thorn and put the disinfectant and gauze cloth into Martha's hand. "Disinfect him. If he's really a woman, it's not just romantic. In addition to roses, he has to work!"

Martha pretended not to understand. She carefully wiped the wound on Huang Liang's hands. She peered and found that he was looking at her. Her face turned red.

……

It was nearly noon when I came out of the rose garden. Huang Liang's hand could no longer ride a bike. Martha pushed the car and hung the flower basket on the handle. After they met, Dickinson was collecting the fishing rod.

"Ah, good luck today!" he said happily, pointing to the fish bucket. "The harvest is not small. Go to me and have fish soup!"

Huang Liang has almost determined that Martha is not the second leader. Although he was willing to accompany Martha all the time, he wanted to talk to Dickinson and maybe talk about something. Even if he was not the second leader, he was also very concerned about some things they were exploring.

Martha said, "I have to send the roses back, and Lord Wolff can't live without me." she looked at Huang Liang, "go, don't worry about me. I'll just ride the bike back, but your hand..."

Huang Liang said, "Oh, it's all right. You forget I'm a doctor! In addition..." he looked at her, "thank you!"

Martha smiled happily. She said goodbye to Dickinson and rode away.

"She's a nice girl," Dickinson said.

Huang Liang looked at Martha's back disappearing under the big redwood tree in the distance, and then took back his eyes. He saw more than ten small white fish in Dickinson's bucket, which looked like the white bars in his hometown, but they were not small.

"Really just fish?" he asked.

Dickinson stared and said, "what else do you want to eat?"

Huang Liang smiled and said, "everything is subject to the arrangement."

Dickinson didn't seem to recognize what he said and asked, "can you cook?"

Huang Liang said, "a little."

Dickinson was happy: "ha ha, great, you can eat Chinese food today! Only Chinese food is equipped with the word" food ", and others are called" food "at most. As for Canada..." he shook his head mockingly, as if Canada can't even call food.

Huang Liang took the task of cooking for some reason, but it's not difficult for him. How many children from the countryside can't cook!

"Professor, do you often come fishing?"

"Not often, occasionally," Dickinson said. "Looking at the vast sea, people's vision and mind will become open. Sometimes, for problems that can't be thought of in the office, sitting on the beach will suddenly open up. That's why I like fishing."

"Are you relaxed today, or are you having a problem?"

"Today? No, not at all. There are guests at home today. Guests like to eat fish, so I specially came to catch some."

Huang Liang felt very strange. Shouldn't there be guests at home? No one left the guests to go fishing. Even if people like to eat fish, it's not very troublesome to buy some.

"You have guests. It's not appropriate for me to go?" he said.

Dickinson said, "it doesn't matter, and you can cook Chinese food, and my guest likes Chinese food very much. Ah, by the way," he suddenly looked mysterious, "guess who the guest is?"

Huang Liang was stunned and said, "Professor Mei won't come?"

Dickinson shook his head and said, "it's not him, but it has something to do with him."

"Who?" Huang Liang couldn't guess.

"Selena, the old lover of Chinese plum! Hahaha!" Dickinson seemed to think of something funny and laughed, "just because Mei wants to eat Chinese food. If you cook well today, you may hear a lot of interesting stories about Chinese plum from her."