Ming Yao leaned on her office desk, looking at the tightly closed door. Her heart seemed to have been gently stung by a bee; at first, it was just a faint pain, but it slowly started to spread through her internal organs.
She propped her forehead on her palm and turned to look at the Paraiba Tourmaline Gemstone on the desk and the nine hundred and ninety colorful roses, a faint flush of red rising in her eyes.
After what felt like an eternity, she called Zhong Ling in.
With a voice slightly hoarse, she said, "Throw away the flowers!"
Zhong Ling widened her eyes, "Sister Yao, such beautiful flowers, all thrown away?"
"If you and the others like them, you can share with your colleagues."
Seeing Ming Yao's low spirits and recalling the gloomy and frosty look on Fourth Master's face when he left, Zhong Ling had her suspicions.
Fourth Master gave Sister Yao such an expensive gift; how could the two of them still be unhappy with each other?
