Chapter Forty-Seven: I Am Fated with This Flower

Carrying Xiaoxi with him, Zhong Di finally set her down once they reached the little shop.

“Look at this bougainvillea, what’s going on with it? Why does it keep dropping its leaves?”

A voice drifted out from inside the shop.

Bougainvillea shedding leaves? In an instant, countless reasons related to leaf drop flooded Zhong Di’s mind.

Unconsciously, he stood still, starting to ponder.

“Uncle, buy me candy.”

With the candy right before her eyes, Xiaoxi saw no reason to wait.

“All right, candy it is.”

Zhong Di entered the shop and bought some snacks for Xiaoxi.

“Take me away.”

A thought echoed in Zhong Di’s ear, and suddenly his consciousness grew hazy—the whole world seemed to change.

It was as though he’d entered a dreamlike realm; he couldn’t hear a single word from the people around him, only saw their lips moving slightly.

There were several pots of green plants on the windowsill, and Zhong Di could feel faint thoughts emanating from them. The clearest was from a pot of bougainvillea.

Judging from its overall state, the bougainvillea was in poor condition. It was an old plant, not very large, but with thick branches. In summer, it ought to be lush, but now it looked wretched—barely any leaves left on its branches.

Zhong Di saw the problem straight away. Good grief, the owner of this bougainvillea really didn’t know how to care for flowers. After all these years, they’d nearly managed to kill it.

“Take me away. I know you can hear me,” the bougainvillea said to Zhong Di, as if it had gained a spirit of its own.

“How do you know?” Zhong Di wondered instinctively. Before, apart from the Wildsand Immortal Bud, no plant had ever spoken to him like this.

It was as if the bougainvillea truly possessed sentience, just like the Wildsand Immortal Bud.

He couldn’t help but wonder—how did the plant know he could hear it, or see it?

“I’m not sure, it’s just a feeling. Hurry and take me away. If this continues, I really will die.”

The bougainvillea sounded anxious, as though it had suffered terrible mistreatment.

“With the plant like this, maybe we should just throw it away!” someone suggested.

“No way, I really like this bougainvillea. I take care of it every day. Afraid it’s thirsty, I water it three times a day. To avoid overwatering at once, I’m careful to give it just a little each time.”

Zhong Di: ...

Watering it three times a day, seriously? No wonder its roots were nearly all rotten. Caring for flowers isn’t about watering them daily—it’s typically “dry thoroughly, then water thoroughly.”

Roots need to absorb water and nutrients, but more importantly, they need to breathe. Watering too often leads to root rot.

“It’s already dead, nothing can be done.”

“Well... all right! I’ve raised countless flowers before, but never thought I’d manage to kill one. I was extra careful with this one, too.”

“Countless flowers, you say? Which one ever survived? You even killed a cactus.”

Zhong Di sighed, “Good thing you were only careful with this one. If you were careful with them all, they’d all be doomed.”

Of course, he couldn’t say that aloud or there’d be an uproar.

“How about you let me have it? I’ll take it home and see if I can save it.”

Seeing they were about to toss the plant, Zhong Di hurried to interject.

“You want it?” the person about to throw it out asked, curious.

“Yes, this is what I’ve studied. There’s a chance I can save it. Tell you what, I’ll buy it off you.”

Zhong Di thought it would be inappropriate to just take it.

Before the other party could answer, Zhong Di scanned the payment code and paid two hundred thirty yuan.

Compared to a sentient bougainvillea, that sum was nothing.

“At market price, a healthy bougainvillea like this is worth two hundred. I’ve bought thirty yuan worth of snacks—add it up yourself.”

He needed to move fast and settle things before any objections arose. In small village shops like this, there’s no barcode checkout—just a quick mental tally.

“Hey, aren’t you Zhong Di from the Zhong Tian family? For a dying plant like that, there’s no need to pay—neighbors shouldn’t charge each other.”

“No worries, I just like this flower.”

Zhong Di set Xiaoxi down, found a good angle, and lifted the plant in one go.

It was heavy, but he was strong enough to manage.

“Hey, hey... this isn’t right!”

Someone called after him, but Zhong Di was already on his way, carrying the plant.

Xiaoxi followed behind, tiptoeing with her bag of snacks, lips pouting and eyes occasionally glancing at the plant: How annoying! Uncle doesn’t carry me anymore. I’m not going to talk to him for a long, long time.

The little shop wasn’t far from home, and soon they arrived. The plant was heavy, and Zhong Di’s arms ached after carrying it all the way.

“Zhong Di, why are you bringing home a dying plant?”

His older sister, seeing Xiaoxi return, scolded her a bit, then fixed her gaze on the plant Zhong Di carried, curiosity in her voice.

If you’re going to buy a plant, shouldn’t it be a flourishing one?

“I feel a connection with this flower,” Zhong Di replied, and went to fetch the gardening tools.

Their family used to keep plenty of plants, but after Zhong Di went away for school, they gradually withered and died.

“Are you fiddling with those flowers again? Hurry up, it’s almost time for dinner,” called Di Chunhua, his mother. Her son’s studies had always involved plants, but... he seemed to be doing well now.

“Okay,” Zhong Di replied, and set about tending to the bougainvillea.

From the signals he’d received from the plant, he already knew what needed to be done.

Earlier, those people at the shop discussing the leaf drop were actually observing a behavioral signal.

When a plant’s roots rot and can’t take up water, it releases abscission hormones, causing the leaves to fall.

Leaves increase evaporation; to keep the branches from drying out, the plant sheds them.

Zhong Di had known this before, but not so thoroughly. Now, seeing the plant’s behavior directly, he understood completely.

The hardest part of saving a plant is diagnosing the problem.

Modern techniques—using hormones to address growth, fertilizers for deficiencies—were all developed after scientists observed these plant behaviors.

Looking at the soil, it was clear it couldn’t be reused. Zhong Di dumped it out and began cleaning up the bougainvillea.

Most of the roots were rotten and had to be cut away. He then soaked the plant in a fungicide solution to disinfect it.

Rotten roots must be pruned; they carry disease, which is why the old soil can’t be reused.

As for the fungicide soak, its role is to disinfect and prevent further infection—broad-spectrum fungicides are commonly used for this in horticulture.

“Ahh, hurry up! It’s so bitter, it’s so bitter, I’m being poisoned!” came the bougainvillea’s weak voice in Zhong Di’s mind. The sensation was strange, like seeing and hearing at the same time.

To a plant, pesticides are toxic—just like herbal medicines can be harmful in excess. In agriculture, this is known as phytotoxicity.

“Bear with it a while, or your roots will rot completely. Bitter medicine cures illness,” Zhong Di muttered to the bougainvillea.

At that moment, Di Chunhua happened to come out of the kitchen with a plate of stir-fried shrimp and overheard him.

“Zhong Di, what did you just say?”

“Nothing, just talking about the bougainvillea,” Zhong Di replied, slightly embarrassed. It was awkward, and explaining would only make it worse.

The bougainvillea’s words felt too real—like a conversation with a person.

Di Chunhua went into the living room and said to Zhong Tian and Zhong Hui, “Do you think Zhong Di’s gone a bit mad? Talking to a flower!”

“Nonsense...”

After soaking the bougainvillea briefly and letting it dry, Zhong Di then soaked it in rooting powder.

The rooting powder he used was simple—mainly indolebutyric acid, sometimes naphthaleneacetic acid. Their effects are similar.

When a plant’s roots are damaged, it will produce its own hormones to adjust. Once this was discovered, it became widely used for propagation.

After soaking in rooting powder, Zhong Di found a slightly smaller flowerpot.

The previous pot was too large—one reason the plant had weakened over time. Choosing the right size pot is crucial for healthy growth.

A large plant in a small pot limits growth, but a small plant in a large pot weakens over time. That’s why pot size matters.

Having selected a pot, Zhong Di filled it with some sand he’d washed for cuttings—alkali-free.

For a plant with nearly all roots rotten, it’s best not to plant it in soil right away. Use something with good aeration, like sand, to nurse new roots.

Vermiculite, perlite, or well-fermented wood chips would also work.

Water must be kept regular but not excessive—just slightly moist throughout.

Sand is much more aerated than potting soil, so overwatering and root rot are less of a concern.

Once finished, Zhong Di placed the bougainvillea in a shaded spot, then looked at the other wilted plants at home—he’d best nurse them in the field.

Once new roots appeared, he would use a mix of half garden soil, some potting mix, and a bit of sand.

In general, a 5:3:2 ratio of garden soil, potting mix, and sand would do the trick.

Bougainvillea is a shrub, with highly woody stems, so the proportion of garden soil should be higher.

“Zhong Di, are you done? You’re grown now, still so into plants. Switch with your sister, all right?” called his mother from the doorway; the meal was already served.

“There’s no rule that says boys have to be a certain way. What’s wrong with liking plants?” Zhong Di retorted, preempting his mother’s usual lecture.

“All right, all right, let’s just eat first, okay?” Di Chunhua couldn’t argue. He’d been obsessed with plants since he was little—she’d never understood the appeal.

Other children learned art or music, but her son collected plants for his so-called herbarium. Truly odd.