Chu Xinqing's gaze moved from Qiao Liang's face to his hand, where a small dish lay on the pristine bandage, with a bright red apple on it.
"Where did it come from?" Chu Xinqing asked in confusion.
Qiao Liang raised his lips in a mischievous smile, "Stolen from next door!"
As he spoke, he lifted his left hand, pinched the apple stem, and gently pulled. The stem came away with the core, and the previously sliced apple spread out like petals, blossoming into a beautiful rose in his palm.
He placed the prepared medicine at the center of the rose and raised his hand to present it to her.
"Xiaoqing, happy birthday! Take your medicine first, then have some fruit. I'll go find you something to eat in a moment."
Chu Xinqing lifted the corners of her lips, her eyelashes blinked, and yet two lines of tears fell, wetting her cheeks.
After many years, seeing him carve an apple rose again, it had been a whole six years.
