Chapter 98: Unfortunately for You, I Quite Enjoy Hitting Men

Zhang Tianci chuckled and tidied himself up.

This time, instead of driving, the two hailed a taxi.

Though Jin Siyu’s hand injury hadn’t fully healed, she could still drive. The main reason she didn’t want to, however, was that quietly sitting beside Zhang Tianci was a pleasure in itself.

Chrysanthemum Square lay in the southern suburbs of the city, part of a large ecological park. Since Jiang City was bordered to the north by the Yangtze River, leaving no room for expansion, the city had gradually stretched southward.

When they arrived at Chrysanthemum Square, it was not yet five o’clock.

The Chrysanthemum Competition would last a whole month, but at this early hour, it had not officially begun.

Still, the square was already bustling with life. In the broadest area, temporary exhibition stalls were set up like intersecting streets, where vendors guarded their pots of chrysanthemums, shouting out their wares.

Lovers of chrysanthemums from Jiang City lingered here, young and old, men and women alike. Many would not necessarily buy anything—some were simply there to admire the flowers.

Zhang Tianci and Jin Siyu strolled among the blooms, taking in both the chrysanthemums and the crowd around them.

Unexpectedly, not far ahead, they spotted Rao Guanghua’s gleaming bald head in the throng.

That shining scalp was impossible to miss, always standing out in the sea of people.

“There’s Baldy…” Jin Siyu whispered, having also spotted him.

“Let’s just ignore him. Everyone’s here to enjoy themselves,” Zhang Tianci smiled, steering Jin Siyu in another direction.

There were many chrysanthemum stalls, but as Zhang Tianci browsed along, he saw nothing particularly rare.

But in the northwest corner of the exhibition, a young vendor caught his eye.

The flower seller looked about twenty-four or five, his attire plain, his features decent enough, but he sat listlessly on a short stool, nodding off in boredom.

In front of him stood three pots of chrysanthemums, all of the same variety.

By the pots, a sign read: “To those who recognize its worth, not a penny is charged; to those who do not, a fortune is not enough.”

Zhang Tianci glanced at the chrysanthemums, then at the young vendor, squatted across from him, and pointed at the sign. “Boss, what does this mean?”

“Are you blind or just illiterate?” the vendor lifted his eyelids and replied, “If you can name this chrysanthemum, I’ll give it to you for nothing. If you can’t, I won’t sell it for ten thousand!”

Jin Siyu retorted, “With that temper, you should drink more chrysanthemum tea to cool off. It’s just a question—why so aggressive? Your flowers aren’t so amazing; even if you gave them away, perhaps no one would want them!”

The vendor snorted, “They say people in Jiang City love chrysanthemums, but these have sat here for three days and not one person has recognized them! Seems Jiang City’s love is just empty talk.”

Zhang Tianci remained unruffled, pointing at the flowers. “They look rather ordinary to me.”

“Oh? Then tell me, what’s the name of this chrysanthemum? Where does it come from? Give the details and I’ll give it to you,” the vendor sneered.

Jin Siyu examined the flowers—golden yellow, the petals loose and elegant, somewhat like the usual desk chrysanthemums, but she couldn’t be sure.

Zhang Tianci, however, studied them carefully, then turned to Jin Siyu with a smile. “Sister, this variety isn’t especially rare, but its value is raised because of ties to two historical figures.”

“Really? Historic figures? What’s the story?” Jin Siyu asked with interest.

The vendor’s expression changed subtly as he heard this, his eyes brightening.

“Hah, it’s an old tale… Once, Su Dongpo visited Wang Anshi. In Wang’s study, Su read two lines Wang had written: ‘Last night, the west wind swept the garden, scattering yellow flowers like gold upon the ground.’ Su doubted this, thinking chrysanthemums do not shed their petals, so he added two lines: ‘Autumn flowers unlike spring, do not fall; poets, consider this carefully in your verse.’

Later, when Wang Anshi exiled Su Dongpo to Huangzhou, one day Su saw chrysanthemums there shedding their petals, yellow strewn everywhere, and realized his mistake. Thus, this variety is called Huangzhou Shedding Chrysanthemum, made famous by Su Dongpo and Wang Anshi.”

With the tale finished, Zhang Tianci looked at the vendor and smiled silently.

The vendor was stunned for a moment, then pointed at the three pots, “Well spotted—they’re yours.”

“Shedding Chrysanthemums bloom beautifully, but as soon as the wind blows, they’re gone. What’s the point?” Zhang Tianci laughed and stood up. “Even if you give them to me, I’ll just throw them on the trash heap.”

Jin Siyu laughed as well, delighted at their small victory. What the vendor saw as treasure, Zhang Tianci dismissed as rubbish—finally relieving her of the earlier annoyance.

“Please wait!” the vendor raised a hand. “I have rarer varieties. Would you like to see them?”

“What kind?” Zhang Tianci asked, halting.

The vendor glanced around, then, like a thief, pulled from his bag a colorful, square plastic sheet, about two feet across, and slowly unfolded it.

Seven-Colored Coiling Dragon Chrysanthemum? Zhang Tianci’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of the painted image!

On the sheet was a potted chrysanthemum, but unlike common varieties, it resembled honeysuckle—a climbing vine, spiraling around a jade pillar in the pot.

There were more than a hundred blossoms, in seven colors—black, white, red, blue, yellow, green, and purple—twining upward in a spiral.

Each color of chrysanthemum formed its own spiral line, distinct yet intertwined, clear and orderly.

From a distance, it looked like seven colored threads winding upward in perfect harmony.

“Is that even a chrysanthemum?” Zhang Tianci feigned ignorance, furrowing his brow as he scrutinized the image.

The vendor shook his head, folding up the sheet. “Clearly your experience is limited. Never mind, I’ll wait for someone who truly knows the value.”

“I think it’s not a chrysanthemum at all, just a photoshopped fake,” Zhang Tianci shook his head, taking Jin Siyu by the arm as they walked away.

Behind them, the vendor snorted, his face full of disdain.

After they had walked some distance, Zhang Tianci looked around to make sure no one was near, then whispered, “Sister, the picture that man showed us—that’s the very Seven-Colored Coiling Dragon Chrysanthemum I’m searching for.”

“I thought something was odd too. The shape gave it away,” Jin Siyu nodded. “Could that man be Long Xingyuan? But he’s too young.”

“No, he’s fishing as well—trying to find Long Xingyuan and the Seven-Colored Coiling Dragon Chrysanthemum,” Zhang Tianci sneered. “This is going to get interesting. Experts are gathering; a contest of dragons and tigers is inevitable.”