"All done." Chisen stood up and packed his tools into his canvas bag. "Keep it somewhere with indirect light for the next three weeks. No direct sun.
"Keep watering it in the morning, but only once a week in winter-and by once a week, I don't mean just pouring water on it. Stick your finger two centimeters into the soil. If it feels damp, don't water it. Wait until it feels dry.
"If you're not sure, come find me. I'll stop by once a week to check."
Mrs. Yamaguchi pulled an envelope from her apron pocket. It was thick, and its shape suggested money inside.
She tried to press it into Chisen's hand.
"This is your consultation fee.
"It isn't much-please take it."
Chisen tucked his cane under his arm, freeing both hands to push the envelope back.
"I don't charge consultation fees.
"But I'd like a pothos instead.
"The one at my teammate's place is almost dead. I want to replace it with a healthier one."
Mrs. Yamaguchi froze for a moment, then smiled.
She went inside the flower shop and brought a pothos down from a shelf.
Its leaves were glossy, its vines trailing nearly a meter over the edge of the pot. Every leaf was deep green, without a single scorched edge.
The pot was white porcelain, printed with a blue-green carp.
"This one's yours.
"And since you saved my clivia, from now on, any flowers you buy here will be at cost."
Chisen took the pothos, glanced at the carp on the white porcelain pot, and thanked her.
That evening, he put the pothos on the coffee table in Guy's apartment.
Guy came out of the kitchen carrying two cups of tea and stopped short at the sight of it. His old plant sat on the