Even if the other party was late, Yang Yuran still had to greet them with a smile and make excuses for them.
"The evening rush hour in Hangzhou is too exaggerated, Ms. Luo must have had a tiring journey."
Luo Jing casually waved her hand and naturally took the seat of honor. She had long been accustomed to being held in high esteem. Taking the warm, sanitizing towel prepared by the private room's butler, she wiped her hands and returned it, her gaze indifferently looking forward.
In the center of the round table, a particular arrangement caught her attention—five pure white roses. The round-mouthed vase held no more and no less than five blooming roses. Her late husband had similarly loved to place a beautiful glass vase with five roses in it at their dining table.
The faint scent of flowers pervaded the restaurant, always lending a serene sense of happiness to a busy morning.
