Manbao twisted her head to closely examine the beautifully striking flowers in the corridor. After a long pause, she couldn't find the words, "Indeed, all beautiful things have their flaws?"
"Who says that?"
"It's something someone said in one of those story-books you gave me."
There were too many things written in the story-books. Manbao didn't delve deeper; instead, she walked over and chose two of the wealthier-looking and somewhat rare varieties of flowers—a pot of chrysanthemums and an old-fashioned rose.
"I'll sell them these two pots."
The chrysanthemums had not yet bloomed, but buds were already visible, and they would open in a few more days. As for the old-fashioned rose, it had a large clump on the top with about ten big buds; two were already in bloom, while the rest were half-open.
The flowers were a deep red—a color Manbao and Mr. Zhuang found immensely pleasing. In the recent days, they had been admiring this old-fashioned rose.
