Chapter 14: Nonsense!

Inside the Orchid Pavilion, many people had gathered, all encircling a few individuals at the center.

An elderly man dressed in a white, cross-collared Tai Chi suit stood there, flanked by two beautiful young women. In his hands, he cradled a pot of exquisite, uniquely shaped orchids, clearly an extraordinary specimen. However, several of the orchid’s leaves appeared somewhat abnormal.

One of the two young women was Zhang Xin.

Opposite the elderly man in the Tai Chi suit stood two others: a portly, middle-aged man, and a muscular young man clad in sportswear.

The young man, known to Chen Xian, was Lan Chao—Zhang Xin’s persistent suitor, who had once even tried to pick a fight with him.

At that moment, the elderly man in the Tai Chi suit gazed at the corpulent middle-aged man with hope in his eyes and said,

“Mr. Lan, recently, the tips of the leaves on this Golden Sand Chrysanthemum have begun to wither and yellow, and brown spots have appeared. Its vitality is not what it once was. You are an expert in cultivating orchids—please, you must help me find a solution!”

This elderly man, Zhang Xin’s grandfather, was named Zhang Xingtian, a man obsessed with orchids.

“This Golden Sand Chrysanthemum is a masterpiece in every regard—its flowers, its leaves, its colors. Alas, it seems to be suffering from phytophthora blight. All the infected leaves must be removed.”

“It does look like blight. What a pity!”

“If this Golden Sand Chrysanthemum were healthy, it would be worth at least three million! Now, even if you manage to save it, its value will plummet!”

The well-dressed onlookers, evidently knowledgeable about orchids, murmured their opinions, all tinged with regret.

Mr. Lan said nothing. He took the Golden Sand Chrysanthemum from the old man and examined it carefully, his brow furrowing as he looked.

Seeing this, Zhang Xingtian’s heart leapt to his throat, the wrinkles on his face trembling.

Zhang Xin knew well how much her grandfather valued this orchid, for it had been tended by her late grandmother.

Her grandparents had been deeply devoted to one another. Now, with her grandmother gone, this orchid was more than just a plant to her grandfather—it was a spiritual keepsake.

If the Golden Sand Chrysanthemum were to die, she could well imagine how devastated her grandfather would be.

“Mr. Lan, you must save it. Money is no object,” Zhang Xin pleaded, unable to contain herself.

She fervently hoped the portly man could revive the orchid.

Yet Mr. Lan paid her no mind, remaining entirely absorbed in the orchid, as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Seeing Zhang Xin’s anxious expression, Lan Chao was secretly delighted—he knew this was his chance to shine. Mr. Lan was, in fact, his uncle, Lan Jianshe, a man of considerable authority.

Lan Chao immediately addressed his uncle, “Uncle, Zhang Xin is my friend. Please, you must do what you can to help her.”

Upon hearing this, Lan Jianshe lifted his gaze from the orchid, casting a meaningful look at Lan Chao and then at the lovely Zhang Xin. With a knowing smile, he said,

“Mr. Zhang and Miss Zhang, rest assured. I can save this Golden Sand Chrysanthemum. However, one third of its leaves must be removed, and one of the old plants must be cut away, leaving only the two new shoots. This orchid is not only suffering from blight—the old plant’s roots are also afflicted with another disease. Special techniques will be required to gradually restore its vigor. Since Miss Zhang is a classmate of my nephew, if you wish to revive the Golden Sand Chrysanthemum, I will only charge you three hundred thousand. It will take three months. If someone else had come to me, it would be at least four hundred thousand.”

Upon hearing his uncle’s words, Lan Chao felt a surge of pride. He gazed eagerly at the radiant Zhang Xin, his eyes practically pleading for her gratitude.

But Zhang Xin did not so much as glance at him.

This left Lan Chao disappointed. He had just helped his goddess—why did she still ignore him?

Zhang Xingtian, upon learning that a third of the leaves and the old plant would have to be removed, looked pained. “Mr. Lan, couldn’t you spare the old plant? I’m willing to pay twice, thrice, even a million if need be.”

The mother plant was that old one—nurtured by his late wife. The other two new shoots he had cultivated himself after her passing. The old plant, for him, was priceless—not in monetary terms, but as a living memory.

“Even if you offered me ten million, Mr. Zhang, there’s nothing I can do. The old plant is beyond saving. If it isn’t removed, the disease will spread to the new shoots, and the entire Golden Sand Chrysanthemum will perish,” Lan Jianshe replied, shaking his head.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Xingtian’s expression dimmed, his body swaying as if he had suddenly aged years. His voice, tinged with sorrow, said,

“If there’s truly no other way, then do as you must.”

“Grandfather!” Zhang Xin hurried to steady him, her heart aching at his grief. “As long as the other shoots survive, the Golden Sand Chrysanthemum will live on.”

The other young woman at her side, equally distressed, also supported the old man. She was Zhang Xingtian’s other granddaughter, Zhang Mei.

“Very well. Three months from now, Mr. Zhang, you may return to collect your Golden Sand Chrysanthemum. I’ll write you a receipt,” said Lan Jianshe.

Zhang Xingtian nodded.

Mr. Lan was about to carry the orchid to the counter when suddenly a young voice rang out, “Wait! I can not only save this Golden Sand Chrysanthemum, but also preserve the old plant and every leaf.”

Mr. Lan stopped in his tracks, frowning as he looked toward the entrance, wondering which ignorant fool dared boast so recklessly.

Mr. Zhang, Zhang Xin, Lan Chao, and the others also turned their gaze to the door.

There stood a young man, his skin tanned but his eyes dark and bright, exuding a particular vitality.

“Chen Xian!” Zhang Xin exclaimed in surprise, recognizing him at once.

It was none other than Chen Xian, who had come to the flower and bird market in hopes of a stroke of luck.

He smiled and nodded at Zhang Xin.

“Young man, is what you just said… true?” Zhang Xingtian, as though clutching at his last hope, stared unblinkingly at Chen Xian.

Traditionally, orchid experts were older; it was almost unheard of for someone so young to be skilled in their cultivation. Orchids are notoriously delicate, and especially rare varieties require immense experience—something only time could bestow. The boy before him seemed far too young.

Yet at that moment, Zhang Xingtian could not care less. He desperately wanted to save the orchid, to preserve every leaf and every shoot.

As the saying goes—when the heart is anxious, reason falters.

“It’s true. I can save this Golden Sand Chrysanthemum—no need to cut leaves or remove any shoots,” Chen Xian replied, his youthful face brimming with confidence.

“Nonsense!”

No sooner had Chen Xian finished speaking than an angry voice thundered through the room.