Xiao Xian’s first day of school coincided with the day Zhuo Feng began her horticulture class.
After dropping Xiao Xian off at school, Zhuo Feng and Feng Xing split up; she went to learn about gardening and Feng Xing was in charge of inquiring about housing prices at the real estate agency.
After leaving university for four or five years, Zhuo Feng’s return to study horticulture was filled with trepidation. After all, the Daffodil named Shen Zhou Red Snow didn’t really have much to do with her.
Meanwhile, the other nine owners of award-winning plants who had obtained the same training qualifications were also in the training room. After having a chat, Zhuo Feng felt even more out of place.
To her left was a senior gardener from Feng Xing Chain Flower Shop, and to her right was a representative from Yunnan World Expo Garden. In front of her was a master flower arranger who had studied abroad and returned, and even further ahead was someone else whose name was well-known. In short, Zhuo Feng thoroughly felt like an ugly duckling amidst a group of swans.
"Have all your flowers been pruned? And used Advanced Nutrient Liquid? Isn’t that cheating?" Zhuo Feng’s question was immediately met with a chorus of replies, "Do you even have to ask? Are there still any completely natural flowers these days?"
"Are you telling me your Daffodil has never been treated with colorants or preservatives?" asked the senior gardener from Feng Xing flower shop.
Zhuo Feng wasn’t sure. It was only after she came to the training class and heard everyone’s discussions that she learned why Shen Zhou Red Snow won awards—it was because of its unusual color and the long flowering period.
From the perspective of floral art, the appearance and color of the flowers competing in the top ten were also quite good, but none of them stood as tall and proud as Shen Zhou Red Snow, which could bloom for a month without a hint of wilting.
However, Zhuo Feng understood the principle that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. In a crowd of gardening experts, mentioning modern cultivation methods was useless. Suppose her little niece merely planted the Daffodil Bulb in a pot—if the water level was low, add some water, and occasionally toss in some pebbles when in a good mood. Saying that would surely invite criticism.
"That Daffodil is natural," commented a student seated in the far corner of the teacher’s area, who had been silent while everyone else was introducing themselves.
"Natural? Impossible. I’ve looked it up, and there’s no such variety of Daffodil in the world. Red petals with white sepals must be a product of genetic modification," the other students in the classroom debated one after another.
Mei Nian shook her head, understanding that gardeners of their time were different from those of Mei Xiang’s generation. They were confused by all sorts of fancy cultivation and pruning techniques, such people could never grow a Daffodil like Shen Zhou Red Snow.
"Quiet down. If anyone doesn’t believe me, they can leave right now. I am your teacher, Mei Nian," Mei Nian stood up and walked to the center of the group.
Since it was a small horticultural training class of ten people, the classroom was not large. The desks were arranged in a semi-circular open style. Mei Nian stood on one side, and the students on the other.
As Mei Nian walked by, Zhuo Feng caught a pleasant scent from her, like the fresh fragrance of melting snow or the delicate aroma of blooming plum flowers.
As soon as she finished speaking, the room immediately fell quiet. Everyone, including Zhuo Feng, stared at Mei Nian.
This young woman who had sat in the classroom quietly for a while, was Mei Nian, the president of the Chinese Garden Flower Research Society? The Mei Nian who had bred the Nine-Colored Orchid?
Zhuo Feng swallowed back her question. Who was Mei Nian? Was she very impressive? Judging by her appearance, she didn’t seem much older than herself.
The speaking woman had medium-length hair over her shoulders, her features were not particularly memorable at first glance.
She wore a thin velour sweater in the dead of winter, her feet clad in crumpled cargo pants tucked carelessly into climbing boots—a sight for sore eyes.
"Who is Mei Nian? Is she that impressive?" If one is attending someone else’s class, at least they should know the teacher’s background.
Unfortunately, before Zhuo Feng could get clear answers, Mei Nian spoke again: "You’re the owner of Shen Zhou Red Snow, right? Please stay behind after class, I have some questions to ask you."
As it was the first class, the students and Mei Nian did not yet know each other well. Thus, following a simple self-introduction, Mei Nian began to ask each person about their preferences.
When it was Zhuo Feng’s turn, she thought for a long time before reluctantly offering a name: "Begonia." The only plants she had really touched at home were the Begonia and the leeks on the windowsill—it wouldn’t be appropriate to blurt out "leeks," would it?