The next morning, as soon as Qu Fulan arrived at the studio, ninety-nine flamboyant roses were delivered right in front of her. The delivery guy politely asked her to sign, and then left.
Qu Fulan picked up the bouquet, on which there was a card with a few words, reminding her to have a good breakfast, and then a signature.
There was no need to guess who it was from; the card only served as confirmation.
"Miss Qu is so lucky, getting roses first thing in the morning!"
"Exactly, what variety are these roses? I used to work part-time at a flower shop, but I've never seen this kind before."
"These are custom-ordered from abroad. They're picked before dawn and delivered by daybreak. Just one rose can fetch this price." The person gestured a figure.
"That must be an exaggeration. It's just a flower; no matter how special, it can't be worth five digits, right?"
