Difficult to heal

Winter in London is as cold as ever, and it's snowing again this year.

The snowflakes were not obvious, they fell on the dark coat and disappeared after a while.

Without an umbrella, I walked on Carnaby Street on foot.

His speed was neither fast nor slow, and he looked into the dense crowd, as if he was looking for something, and he seemed to be simply watching the scenery.

Today is Valentine's Day, the fourth Valentine's Day in London.

It seems that it is more lively than usual, and there are more people coming out to celebrate the festival.

After walking for a while, the weather was extremely cold, and Lu Shu's hands quickly became cold and stiff.

There was a coffee shop nearby, and he went in and bought a hot Americano.

After taking a few sips, he opened the door again until his body gradually recovered.

The bustling British-style streets are bustling, the twilight spreads, and the high-rise neon lights cover all corners, which is more lively and popular than the daytime.

Diagonally opposite the coffee shop, an old gentleman took a few baskets of roses and went to the eaves to hide from the snow.

The snow was getting heavier, so he took off his coat and put it on the woven basket for fear of freezing the delicate flowers.

Lu Shu stopped for a moment, crossed the sidewalk, and walked towards the old flower seller.

"Hi, how do you sell flowers?" Lu Shu asked.

The old gentleman glanced at him, lifted the corner of his coat, and said kindly: "There are not many flowers today, and the remaining ones are not fresh and beautiful enough. If you like, you can take one."

Lu Shu squatted down and looked at the flowers in the woven basket. After a while, he picked out the fullest orange rose.

"Young man, are you going out alone for the festival?" the old man asked.

Lu Shu didn't speak, and took out a few pounds to him: "I bought these flowers, give them to others, or you can take them home."

The old man quickly waved his hand to refuse, Lu Shu didn't say much, put the pound into the basket, got up and left.

Only one orange rose was taken with her.

The old man stared at the tall figure going away, and sighed helplessly.

The child didn't look like he was out for the holidays. There was no one around him, his emotions were light, and he lacked the joy of the festival. When picking roses, he could barely see a look of anticipation.

Yue Mo was bored by being alone, so he came out to take a stroll in this atmospheric street.

In the end, it cost him an old man.

"Hi, do you sell flowers?"

The old man was distracted when a long, thin and white wrist appeared in his eyes, and he picked up a branch of orange roses from the basket.

The old gentleman looked up, and the person in front of him was the same as the one just now, with an Asian face.

His facial features are more delicate than ordinary people, his eyebrows and eyes are clear, he is a very beautiful young man.

But for some reason, he looked a little weak, his lips were pale and lacking in blood, and he was only wearing a thin khaki windbreaker.

"How do you sell the flowers?" the man asked again.

The old man finally came back to his senses and said, "These were all bought by a young man just now, and he said he could give them away. Take them all if you want."

"I bought it and didn't want it?" The man looked strange for a moment, and said again, "Then I'll take it."

After speaking, he also took out a few pounds, handed them to the old gentleman, and left with the rest of the flowers in his arms.

"..."

The old man shook his head again and sighed, the young people nowadays are really more individual than each other.

Chu Qinjiang walked into the coffee shop with a rose, and said to the clerk, "A cup of hot American style, please pack it."

"OK, just a second."

The clerk responded and muttered, "There are quite a lot of people ordering hot American style today."

When Chu Qinjiang heard it, he only thought about it for a second without leaving any traces.

Then asked: "Can I have a ribbon? Flowers are not easy to handle."

The clerk gave him some white ones, and said with a smile, "Orange roses are so beautiful, are you giving them to your girlfriend?"

Chu Qinjiang tied the flower branches slowly, and replied: "No, someone else gave it to me."

The clerk nodded knowingly, packed the hot American and handed it over: "Please keep your coffee, welcome to come again next time."

Chu Qinjiang thanked him, took the packaging bag and walked out of the coffee shop.

The school was on holiday today, and the company had nothing to do, Zhong Wanwan wanted to call him back for dinner, but he refused, choosing to hang out on the freezing street.

The cold wind was getting stronger, and a few petals were blown off.

Chu Qinjiang took out the hot Americano and put the rose into a paper bag.

He walked on the streets of Carnaby at a leisurely pace, occasionally drinking a sip of coffee, listening to the hustle and bustle around him, and wandering his mind.

I don't know if it snows in China.

"Hi, may I ask how to get to this hotel?"

A voice asking for directions came from the crowd behind him.

"Sorry, I don't come here too often, so I don't know." Another person replied.

Chu Qinjiang's footsteps stopped suddenly.

With a dazed expression on his face, his heart clenched tightly.

After a while, he laughed at himself again.

Still hallucinating.

It seems that this month's medicine is almost finished, so I should find a time to go to Qu Yao's.

He gathered up his windbreaker, quickened his pace, and walked forward again.

Gradually farther and farther away from the bustling crowd, and farther and farther away from the familiar voice.

The snow in London fluttered, fell into the crowds, passed through the streets and alleys, and finally covered the fallen rose petals.

Layer by layer, the submersion disappears.

Old people don't meet each other, and when they meet, they end up.