Flowers, Perhaps?

"Gift?" Han Ke Ming echoed, his brows arching slightly, confusion flickering like a faulty light behind the polished mask of his smile. His mind scrambled, sifting through possibilities with increasing urgency. A corporate token? A courtesy package? Flowers, perhaps?

No…

If Feng Tian had sent something, he would've known.' I would've known.'

His gaze shifted subtly to Qu Anxin, hoping for silent confirmation, but her composed smile did little to mask the faint trace of confusion that mirrored his own. She didn't know either.

Yet Feng Tian's eyes held something unmistakable—not confusion, not curiosity, but control. There was a sharpness in her gaze, too deliberate to be casual like someone who already knew the ending of a story yet indulged the characters anyway.