As they approached the peach blossom forest, a gentle breeze whisked thousands of pink petals off the branches, showering over people, each carrying a whisper of fragrance. It was as if they had wandered into a heavenly scene, which was breathtakingly beautiful.
Xanthea reached out to catch a falling petal, “Orion, why are there so many peach trees here? Did you have them planted?”
“No,” replied Orion, “This area used to be a natural scenic reserve full of all sorts of flora. But later, for land auction purposes, the environmental authority had most of them cut down, leaving only this fringe of peach woods.”
“So, it must have been even more beautiful before. It’s a shame I didn’t know about this place earlier; I would definitely have come to visit. Oh!”
Her tone shifted as if she suddenly remembered something funny. She playfully slapped his back, “Orion, do you know what I used to dream about when I was little?”
“What?”
“I loved irises. And I thought if there was a man who would plant a whole mountain of irises for me, and when they bloomed, I would marry him!”
At that, Orion silently stopped in his tracks.
The midday sun filtered through the dense peach trees, casting mottled light across his distinguished face, which shone brilliantly yet couldn’t dispel the deep, dense shadow lurking in his eyes.
Did Matthew Martinez plant a mountain of irises for you?
Xanthea looked at him, puzzled by his sudden stop. “Why did you stop?”
“Did it happen?”
His voice was low, almost a whisper. Xanthea didn’t hear clearly at first. It took her a while to understand, and then she laughed, “How could it? That was such an extravagant, childish fantasy. Not even TV dramas would film it. It was just a kid’s silly dream.”
She had indeed once told Matthew, who had jokingly replied, "Then I guess I can't marry you," but she hadn’t been upset. After all, such fantasies were as impractical as trying to pluck the moon from the sky—no one could really do it.
“Hey! I see a particularly beautiful peach blossom over there!”
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