This scene was also witnessed by someone on the first floor, standing before the floor-to-ceiling glass.
Yan Huo was dumbfounded. He nudged Xuan Liu with his elbow. "What is she doing, paying respects at a grave? Placing the flowers so respectfully by the door, she's one step away from bowing."
"She's on the phone. The Master must not have let her in."
"Serves her right, the little money-grubber. Selling her membership card like that." Yan Huo gloated. "By the way, what kind of flowers are those? Roses? They don't really look like it, but the color is pretty festive."
"Red lantern fuchsias. In the language of flowers, they mean 'gratitude,'" Xuan Liu said, his gaze fixed on the splash of red outside the wall.
