[HP] If youth has an ageless face

Antonio Stoyanlov walked through the giant greenhouse with the British Minister for Magic and several representatives from the two countries.

“Except for Damascus, there is no second country in the world that can grow roses comparable to Bulgaria.” A Bulgarian ambassador boasted slightly proudly.

"That's true," asked Fudge casually. "I heard that the rose varieties in France and Morocco are different from those in Bulgaria, is that true?"

"That's right." The ambassador introduced enthusiastically, "Most of them plant Chiba roses, while our country is rich in Damascus roses imported from the Middle East."

This Bulgarian rose show has been around for a long time.In order to achieve the best results, the exhibition that should have been held in summer was dragged to early winter, just to shock this group of British people.Judging from the admiration of the endless stream of tourists and guests, the desired effect of the Bulgarian side has obviously been achieved, and even far exceeded expectations.This is the third day of the exhibition, but the visitors are still full.

This time he will definitely get a lot of compliments when he goes back, Antonio thought distractedly, but he wondered if he would have time to take a sneak peek at this country before leaving England...

"I don't think these roses are very good." An abrupt and slightly disdainful voice suddenly reached their ears, and the conversation between Fudge and the ambassador stopped awkwardly. Across a row of bushes, they could clearly hear the person next door content of the conversation.

"Really?" Another woman replied, "You've only just returned from Bulgaria, so you should have a lot to say."

"You will know when you go there. No matter how beautiful the publicity is, it is actually the same." The previous person criticized unceremoniously, "There is a lavender farm in Yorkshire, you know? Believe me, the rose garden in Bulgaria is the same as It has no essential difference, and the photos taken can't tell the obvious difference."

This merciless belittling made several officials of the British Ministry of Magic look ashamed, and the Bulgarian representatives also whispered to each other.Antonio thought it was funny.He was tired of hearing compliments, and it was the first time he heard such straightforward criticism.

"But they're still pretty."

"Oh... Edwina, you will understand when you see it with your own eyes."

"Cough..." Fudge cleared his throat, trying to save some face, "It's hard to agree with each other. There will always be picky customers who will be dissatisfied."

"I understand." Antonio nodded, paying attention to the fork in front of him from the corner of his eye, "In a sense, that lady is right. Rose, that's the same in essence."

At this time, two figures turned around one after another while talking and laughing.Seeing people standing on the road, they were taken aback for a moment, and then seemed to recognize their identities, and one of them's expressions became unnatural.

"It turned out to be Mrs. Greengrass and Mrs. Zabini." Fudge tried his best to smooth things over, "I didn't expect you to come today."

This is nonsense.

The atmosphere is more subtle.

Sylvia laughed twice: "This is really rude, I'm sorry, gentlemen."

"You just came back from a holiday in Bulgaria, didn't you?" Antonio asked.Although he was asking the lady who criticized the rose, his eyes could not help falling on the radiant lady beside her.

"That's right." Sylvia struggled to defend herself. "My words were exaggerated. In fact, Bulgarian roses are still worth seeing."

"Your opinion is correct." Antonio said half-jokingly and half-sarcastically, "I personally think that the roses of our country are the same as the gentlemanly demeanor of the British. They are all made with oil and vinegar."

The expressions on the faces of Fudge and other British officials suddenly changed.

"But these roses have a disadvantage."

Antonio finally found a reason to look at her openly: "You said."

She bent the corner of her mouth: "It's too expensive."

After a moment of silence, several people laughed.Anyone will give face to a beauty, no matter what, this little conflict is over.

Antonio watched her beautiful shadow disappear at the end of the rose bush, and then he turned to Fudge who was beside him: "May I know their names, Mr. Fudge?"

"What?" Fudge misunderstood his thoughts, "No, Mr. Stoyanlov, even if you exchange all the roses in Bulgaria, you won't be able to exchange the most beautiful woman in England."

If such words were used to describe others, even if they were spoken by the British Minister of Magic, they would appear extremely frivolous.But when it was used to describe Mrs. Zabini just now, Antonio didn't think there was any incongruity.

"You misunderstood me, Mr. Fudge. How dare I touch your English roses." Antonio easily made up a lie, "I just want to give them a few roses as a compensation."

"That's right!" Fudge believed it was true, and hurriedly apologized, "I was the one to be abrupt—of course, don't mind my words, Mrs. Zabini's charm is unstoppable, and this is something everyone recognizes."

Madame Zabini?Antonio always felt that the name sounded familiar.After thinking about it carefully, he suddenly dug out something from the depths of his memory - was the protagonist of that grand touring art exhibition many years ago also called this name?

When Blaise returned home, something suddenly felt strange—even though he had only been gone for three months, something seemed to have changed.

When he stepped into the back garden, facing the expanded greenhouse in front of him, he finally understood what was wrong: there were many more roses in the house for no reason.

"Are you okay?" He went up to the unicorn and teased it. "Did you miss me while I was gone?"

The unicorn leaned forward and licked its palm affectionately. Blaise felt a little itchy. He stroked the unicorn's mane again, and his eyes fell on the magnificent glass greenhouse and the clearly visible roses of various colors inside. superior.

"You're back." He didn't look back, but he knew who it was.

"What's the matter with this greenhouse?"

"Newly built."

When Edwin pulled past him, Blaise keenly caught a scent of rose water, which made him frown: "Since when did you become obsessed with roses?"

Edwin didn't say a word, she walked into the greenhouse and picked up the gardening shears beside her.Brace patted the unicorn on the head and followed her in.She walked around the flower stand unhurriedly, stopping from time to time to check the growth of the flowers. After several times of tossing, she selected a few flowers and cut them off slowly.

"It was given by someone else."

Blaise asked almost reflexively, "Who?"

Edwina turned around and glanced at him with a half-smile, that smile made him very uncomfortable.

"Could it be your suitor?"

"Don't think about it." She denied it calmly, "I borrowed the wind from Sylvia."

Yeah?Did she also receive the same number of roses?Blaise resisted the desire to continue asking, knowing that he would get no answer except to piss himself off in the end.

"How are you doing at Hogwarts?"

"It's okay." Blaise watched as she carefully trimmed away the words on the rose branch with small scissors.Although the mother and son maintain a certain frequency of communication, it is limited to a series of polite words.Several friends of Blaise couldn't understand why their mother-child relationship was so indifferent, but Blaise felt that this was normal: if Edwin La wrote a long letter to take care of every detail of his life, then That's weird.

"Is the class difficult?"

"well enough."

Edwin drew a ribbon to tie the roses into a bunch: "Do you like Professor Sprout?"

What should come is still here.Blaise sighed. He felt that he had to clarify one thing, even if the truth disappointed him: "I really...have no interest in herbalism." Yes, no.It's not that he doesn't learn well or doesn't like it, he just has no interest.

"Really?" Edwin straightened up and looked at him. For a moment, she seemed a little disappointed, but she quickly lowered her eyes and continued to tie up the roses, and her tone returned to her usual calm, "It doesn't matter. You just know what's in your heart .”

The two were silent for a moment.As she tied the flowers and they headed to the dining room together, Blaise couldn't resist asking another thing boldly: "Will he be back this Christmas?"

Edwin kept walking: "No."

"Why did he leave so suddenly?"

"Why do you suddenly care about him?" Edwin pulled the flowers to the maid and asked her to replace the withered ones, "Why don't you write a letter to ask how he is doing?"

Blaise choked and chose to shut up angrily.