On the wide, sun-drenched porch of Madam Ruan's house -yes her private house, not the mansion that felt more like a casino- Zhao Yiming squinted at the chaotic patch of green and brown in the corner of the garden.
Among the fine trimmings of traditional stone benches and potted bonsai stood a strange, mixed mess of mismatched plants.
Wildflower stalks jutting next to a stubborn cabbage, a single sunflower slumping beside limp chili bushes.
Standing in the middle of this green crime scene was Ruan Lihua, dressed in a flowing black robe, her hair tied up messily as she dramatically tossed something into the soil.
Zhao Yiming watched for a few seconds in silence before finally asking, "...What are you doing?"
She turned to him with a proud smile, holding a small paper packet of seeds in one hand and a miniature shovel in the other.
