Neither of them left immediately.

Su Hang stood in front of the counter as if he were waiting for me to suddenly drop the polite smile and become the younger sister he remembered.

I didn’t.

Finally, Gu Yanzhou took the bouquet and walked outside.

Su Hang followed.

The Maybach remained parked there for another ten minutes.

Then it disappeared around the corner.

Mrs. Zhang rushed into my shop.

—Xiao Su!

I continued trimming roses.

—What?

—Don’t “what” me. Who were those two?

—Customers.

She stared at me.

—Customers don’t look at a florist like they’ve discovered someone who came back from the dead.

My scissors paused.

Then I smiled.

—Maybe people from Beicheng are strange.

That evening, I closed the shop earlier than usual.

Only after locking the door did I realize my hands were trembling.

Six years.

I had thought six years was enough to make the past harmless.

Apparently, I was wrong.

The next morning, Gu Yanzhou returned.

Alone.

He arrived before I opened.

When I lifted the shutter, he was standing across the street holding two cups of coffee.

I ignored him.

He followed me inside.

—Su Yan.

—We open at nine.

—It’s eight forty-seven.

—Then you have thirteen minutes to wait outside.

His expression stiffened.

Six years earlier, I would have panicked if he looked at me that way.

Now I simply began watering the hydrangeas.

At exactly nine, I turned the sign to OPEN.

—Welcome. What would you like?

His gaze stayed on me.

—Why didn’t you go back?

I almost laughed.

—Go back where?

—Beicheng.

—You mean the city where your family publicly canceled our engagement and the Su family threw my suitcase onto the pavement?

He became silent.

I picked up a roll of ribbon.

—There wasn’t much waiting for me.

—You could have contacted me.

This time, I actually laughed.

—You?

I looked directly at him.

—You were the person who told me I wasn’t worthy of you.

Something flickered across his face.

—I didn’t know everything then.

—Neither did I.

—That’s why I’m here.

I stopped.

Gu Yanzhou placed a folder on the counter.

I didn’t touch it.

—Six years ago, the Su family said you leaked confidential bidding documents from Su Corporation to a competitor.

I remembered.

The accusation that destroyed everything.

My father collapsed from anger.

My stepmother cried.

Su Hang slapped the documents onto the table and demanded I confess.

And Gu Yanzhou ended our engagement that same night.

I had denied it until my voice became hoarse.

Nobody believed me.

—What about it?

Gu Yanzhou opened the folder.

—The original files were recovered three months ago.

My fingers tightened around the ribbon.

—And?

—The documents weren’t sent from your account.

Silence.

—They were copied from Su Hang’s computer.

I looked up.

Gu Yanzhou continued:

—Using the login credentials of Su Qing.

My half-sister.

The daughter my father had with his second wife.

The girl everyone had protected while I was thrown away.

I stared at the folder.

Then pushed it back.

—Congratulations.

He frowned.

—For what?

—You solved a six-year-old mystery.

—Su Yan—

—Will solving it give me six years back?

He had no answer.

At noon, Su Hang arrived.

This time he looked exhausted.

He didn’t enter immediately.

He stood outside until I said:

—If you’re going to block the entrance, buy something.

He walked in.

—I’ll buy everything.

I looked around.

—You can’t afford it.

His eyes reddened.

That surprised me.

—I’m sorry.

I continued arranging flowers.

—Which bouquet?

—I’m not here for flowers.

—Then you’re in the wrong shop.

He suddenly placed both hands on the counter.

—Su Qing admitted it.

My scissors stopped.

—She copied the documents. She was dating someone from the rival company. She wanted money.

I said nothing.

—When the investigation started, Mom found out.

That made me look at him.

He swallowed.

—She convinced Dad that exposing Qingqing would destroy the family. So they let everyone believe it was you.

Something inside me became very still.

—And you?

His face turned pale.

—I believed them.

—No.

I shook my head.

—You chose them.

He flinched.

—Su Yan—

—You didn’t investigate. You didn’t ask why I would betray the company I worked twelve hours a day to help build.

My voice remained calm.

—You came into my room, threw a suitcase at me and said the Su family had no daughter like me.

His eyes lowered.

—I remember.

—Good.

I smiled faintly.

—Then we don’t need to discuss it.

He whispered:

—Come home.

That almost made me angry.

—This is home.

He looked around my tiny flower shop.

The old wooden shelves.

The secondhand refrigerator.

The faded curtains.

—You belong in Beicheng.

—I belong wherever I decide to stay.

Three days later, my father came.

Not in a Maybach.

Not with bodyguards.

He walked slowly into my shop with a cane.

He had aged enormously.

I almost didn’t recognize him.

—Yan Yan.

I hadn’t heard that name in six years.

He began apologizing before I could stop him.

He said he had been wrong.

That Su Qing had confessed.

That my stepmother had hidden evidence.

That the family wanted me back.

Then he placed a document before me.

Thirty percent of Su Corporation.

Transferred to my name.

I didn’t pick up the pen.

—Why?

His eyes became wet.

—Because it should have been yours.

I looked at him for a long time.

—Six years ago, I asked you for one thing.

—What?

—Believe me.

He lowered his head.

—I know.

—Instead, you gave me five thousand yuan and told me never to embarrass the Su family again.

He couldn’t speak.

I pushed the shares back.

—Keep them.

—Yan Yan—

—I’m not refusing because I’m noble.

I looked directly at him.

—I’m refusing because I don’t want anything that makes you believe you bought forgiveness.

He left without the signature.

Gu Yanzhou continued appearing.

Sometimes he bought roses.

Sometimes sunflowers.

Once, he bought a cactus.

—Who is that for?

—My office.

I looked at him.

—It suits you.

—Because it’s difficult to kill?

—Because touching it hurts.

For the first time, he laughed.

I didn’t.

One afternoon he finally asked:

—Are you married?

—No.

His shoulders visibly relaxed.

I immediately added:

—But that doesn’t mean you’re waiting in line.

His expression became complicated.

—Can I?

—No.

The answer came so quickly that even I surprised myself.

He stared at me.

I tied the ribbon around his bouquet.

—Gu Yanzhou, you didn’t break our engagement because you stopped loving me.

He became silent.

—You broke it because when everyone said I was worthless, believing them was easier than standing beside me.

I handed him the flowers.

—That’s not the kind of love I want anymore.

He accepted them quietly.

—Then what can I do?

—Nothing.

That was the hardest lesson for all of them.

Not every mistake has a task attached to it.

Sometimes there is no heroic gesture.

No amount of money.

No apology powerful enough to restore the version of someone you destroyed.

Months passed.

Su Hang stopped asking me to return.

Instead, he occasionally ordered flowers.

Always paid full price.

Never asked for a family discount.

My father sent birthday gifts.

I returned the expensive ones.

Kept the handwritten cards.

Slowly, I stopped being angry.

But I never confused peace with reconciliation.

Then something unexpected happened.

A luxury hotel group opened a resort twenty kilometers outside Luxi.

They needed a local floral supplier.

Mrs. Zhang practically forced me to submit a proposal.

—Xiao Su, if you don’t apply, I’ll apply for you!

I laughed and submitted it.

I won.

Within a year, “No Problems” expanded.

I hired four employees.

Then opened a second shop.

Then a small greenhouse.

One morning, a business magazine arrived.

On the cover was a photograph of my flower studio.

LOCAL FLORIST BUILDS SOUTHERN LUXURY BRAND FROM A SINGLE SHOP.

Mrs. Zhang bought twelve copies.

I told her she was ridiculous.

She framed one.

Two years after Gu Yanzhou first returned, he came into my original store again.

He placed 380 yuan on the counter.

—One bouquet.

I smiled.

—White roses and lisianthus?

—Yes.

I prepared it.

Exactly as I had the first time.

When I handed it over, he didn’t take it immediately.

—Do you remember the first bouquet?

—Of course.

—Do you know who it was for?

I shook my head.

—Your grandmother.

I paused.

His grandmother had been the only person in the Gu family who had treated me kindly.

—She was ill then.

His voice softened.

—She asked me to bring her flowers from the south.

He finally took the bouquet.

—She died three days later.

I didn’t know what to say.

Then he added:

—Before she died, she asked whether I’d found you.

I looked at him.

—What did you tell her?

—Yes.

—And?

His smile was sad.

—I told her you were doing well without us.

That evening, after he left, I stood outside my shop.

The sunset painted the street gold.

Mrs. Zhang was shouting at her husband next door.

Children were riding bicycles past the square.

Someone had ordered twenty hydrangeas for a wedding.

My phone was full of supplier messages.

It wasn’t a glamorous life.

But it was mine.

Six years earlier, I had arrived in Luxi with one suitcase and less than ten thousand yuan.

I had thought I’d lost everything.

I was wrong.

I had lost a family that didn’t believe me.

A fiancé who didn’t trust me.

A surname that came with conditions.

And in exchange, I had found something I hadn’t known I needed.

A life where nobody could throw me out.

The next spring, Su Hang visited again.

This time he brought a young woman.

She smiled at me.

—Hello, Ms. Su. We’re getting married.

I looked at my brother.

He seemed nervous.

—Congratulations.

The woman pointed toward the sample book.

—We heard you’re the best florist in the region.

I smiled.

—Who told you that?

She pointed at Su Hang.

I raised an eyebrow.

He coughed awkwardly.

—It’s true.

They chose white roses and light purple lisianthus.

When I finished calculating the deposit, Su Hang stared at the flowers.

—Those were the flowers we bought the first day we found you.

—I remember.

He smiled faintly.

—How much was that bouquet?

I closed the order book.

—Three hundred and eighty yuan.

He nodded.

—Back then, I thought that was what flowers cost.

I waited.

His voice became quiet.

—Later I realized it was the cheapest thing I owed you.

I looked at him for several seconds.

Then handed him the receipt.

—Your wedding flowers will be considerably more expensive.

He laughed.

So did I.

And for the first time, laughing with my brother didn’t hurt.

I still didn’t return to Beicheng.

Gu Yanzhou never became my fiancé again.

My father never received the daughter he had once taken for granted.

But sometimes they visited Luxi.

Sometimes I let them stay for tea.

Forgiveness, I discovered, didn’t mean restoring everything to the way it was.

Some relationships returned differently.

Some didn’t return at all.

And that was fine.

Because the woman who had been thrown out of Beicheng no longer existed.

In her place stood Su Yan.

Twenty-eight became thirty.

One flower shop became three.

And the handwritten wooden sign above my first little store remained unchanged:

NO PROBLEMS.

One afternoon, Mrs. Zhang stood beneath it and laughed.

—Xiao Su, don’t you think you should change the name now? Your business is so big. You have plenty of problems!

I looked at the hydrangeas blooming beside the door.

Then at the street that had become home.

—No.

I smiled.

—The name isn’t a wish anymore.

—Then what is it?

I picked up my scissors and returned to the flowers.

—It’s a reminder.

I had survived losing my family, my engagement, my reputation and almost everything I owned.

The people who once abandoned me eventually found their way to my door.

But by then, I no longer needed any of them to take me home.

I had already grown one myself.