Kāi Mén Jiàn Shān - 开门见山
katocchi
The second time I saw flowers on Erxi's desk, it was after our lunch break. In addition to the previous white lilies, the bouquet held a few blue hyacinths, classic apology flowers. It made sense; Erxi told me a few days ago about their latest argument, but she didn't expect them to patch things up for a while.
"It was that bad," she'd whined during our drinking night, hitting her forehead against the table. Her beer sloshed in its glass before stilling. "I'll probably never see him again."
The hyacinths said otherwise, but a sign this subtle would be lost on someone as oblivious as Erxi. On a sticky note, I scrawled the name of a common flower dictionary site and put it to her computer screen to not draw attention. Then, because of course she wouldn't know the name of this flower and turned to me in confusion, I wrote that down for her, too.
It didn't take her long to find the answer.
"How'd you know?" she whispered, gaze fixed on the vase as she turned it with newfound appreciation. Maybe Cao Guang should send me a gift.
"I've gotten enough apology flowers in the past to recognize them."
Tulips, orchids, forget-me-nots, blue hyacinths, roses. They had all been in my hands at some point, accompanied by a man on his knees, pleading for me to take him back. If I fisted my hands tight enough, my skin still felt the pricks his lies like phantom thorns I never pried out.