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    Chapter 40: Talking Their Way Through

    After a while, the side gate opened, and the Ming family’s steward stepped out. Noticing two unfamiliar figures at the back of the line—the younger one even carrying a child—he paused in surprise.

    Approaching, he asked, “Gentlemen, is there something you need?”

    With a bright smile, Luo Mingchen replied, “Steward, we’re here to treat the orchid.”

    Though his words sounded a little absurd, the steward was well-traveled and not easily shocked. Instead, he asked, “And what flowers have you tended before? Which nursery are you from?”

    Frankly, Luo answered, “We’re not florists—we grow vegetables.”

    The steward: “
.”

    Were they here to make trouble?

    Hearing this, someone in line burst out laughing. “Young master, why don’t you go home and tend to the baby instead? She already looks half-asleep!”

    Others chuckled too, though they held back direct ridicule.

    Unbothered, Luo Mingchen ignored the mocker entirely, turning only to the steward. “I guarantee I can save the orchid in three days. If I fail, I’ll pay you one hundred taels of gold as penalty.”

    The line fell silent. “
..!!!”

    The steward found it dubious that a vegetable-grower came to treat flowers, yet his undeniable confidence was unsettling. After hesitating, he said, “Then please, come in.”

    “Thank you, Steward. We won’t let you down.”

    Behind him, listening, Huo Yan thought quietly: So strong confidence can make strangers believe you more.

    Together they entered the Ming estate.

    Luo Mingchen had thought their own place was large enough, but upon seeing the Ming residence, his “spacious home” was nothing but a bird’s nest in comparison.

    Yet in his heart, he still preferred their own little “nest.” A house this vast was just exhausting to clean.

    The winding corridors were as artful as a southern garden—elegant and ordered, even Luo, an outsider, could see the grace.

    When they reached the main hall courtyard, an elder waited there. Beside him, on a wooden stand, drooped a pot of Orchid—limp and yellow, no better than brittle straw.

    “Many skilled men have already examined my Ink Orchid,” the elder sighed. “All said it cannot be saved.”

    Luo Mingchen could hear the fatigue and sorrow in his tone.

    The elder’s eyes flicked briefly over Luo and Huo, clearly dubious. They looked nothing like men who could nurture flowers.

    “I must ask you all—during observation, please don’t handle it.”

    Heads nodded all around, each taking turns to inspect. But after frowning and murmuring, they all backed away shaking their heads.

    When Luo Mingchen’s turn came, the elder was startled to receive a dazzling grin. “Young man, what do you do?”

    “I grow vegetables,” Luo answered cheerfully.

    Startled, the old man had no time to react before Luo continued, “But I was born with sensitivity to the states of plants. I can perceive things others can’t.”

    “Oh?”

    Now intrigued, the elder pressed, “Then what do you think? Can this flower still be saved?”

    “That depends on whether you want to save it.”

    The elder frowned. “Of course I wish to save it.”

    “In that case, Master Ming, once I begin treatment, I’ll need to take the flower home with me.”

    The elder frowned but offered, “You could reside here in my estate. We’d treat you as honored guests. A courtyard would be given to you, and unless commanded, none would intrude.”

    “But we make tofu and run a shop. We have children in school. Rest assured, we won’t run away with it—your grandson is our sons’ classmate, and we do business by the academy. If you’re truly worried, you can check anytime. In three days, we’ll return it. If that’s unacceptable, then there’s nothing more we can do.”

    He added with a smile, “Besides, in this condition, no one else can bring it back. Ask around—if anyone else dares stake their life on it, I’ll step back.”

    The elder was stunned. “You must be the one Yuanjing praised—cheerful, cooks well, makes tofu, and always smiling—the ‘Uncle’(Xiao Shushu)?”

    Luo chuckled. “Yes.”

    So that was his title? Quite the preface.

    Still, the old man turned to the others. “Have any of you a means?”

    The earlier scoffer snorted. “I might have an idea. Can’t promise it will work, though.”

    Luo cut him off with a smile. “Then don’t say it. I only need three days. Once I’m done, Master Ming himself will insist I take it home.”

    The others: “
.”

    With no better choice, the elder muttered, “As they say, a dead horse must be treated as a living one.” Then aloud: “What materials do you need?”

    “A small pair of scissors, fresh soil mixed with sand.”

    At scissors, the elder hesitated. “We already tried cutting yellow leaves earlier. It worsened.”

    Luo explained, “Leaves are not the issue. That yellowing came from too much sunlight. An Ink Orchid prefers dappled shade by a window. No, scissors are to cut the roots. Rotten roots must be removed, just as a doctor first lances a boil of pus.”

    The reasoning startled even cautious Huo Yan.

    Still uncertain, Master Ming wavered
 until Huo Yan, from his shaded spot holding their little daughter, spoke up faintly: “If deliberating so long on a small matter, what then of the treatment itself? Since you lack trust in my husband, find someone else. Only, pity the flower—it might not last.”

    Turning to Luo, he said firmly, “Seems Master Ming doesn’t intend to save it. Let’s leave, go back to the shop.”

    Luo blinked knowingly. “Alright.”

    They had turned when the old man hastily called, “Wait. I’ll trust you. If Yuanjing praises you so, you can’t be a charlatan.”

    Hearing this, Luo shot Huo a secret smile.

    Once granted permission, success was almost assured.

    He deftly dug out the orchid, trimmed its rotting roots, rinsed them, repotted it in fresh sandy soil, then lightly misted its leaves with his water ability.

    Even this small change made the near-dead plant perk up slightly.

    To the elder’s weary eyes, it was a miracle. “It truly looks revived!”

    Luo smiled smoothly. “In three days, I’ll return it—thriving.”

    Completely convinced, the old master bowed, “Then I entrust it to you.”

    “A small matter. We’ll take our leave now.”

    Carefully lifting the pot, Luo bowed.

    “Won’t you stay a while?” the elder offered.

    “No need. We still must sell tofu.” He grinned. “Perhaps, instead, you can send someone to give us a ride back? Easier that way—and you’ll know where to find us.”

    Laughing, the old master agreed at once, ordering the steward to personally escort them.

    Footnotes:

     

     

    • “Dead horse treated as a live one” (æ­»é©Źćœ“æŽ»é©ŹćŒ») – Chinese idiom: when hopeless, try anything, like treating a dead horse as though it lives. 
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