Chapter 80
In the past, there were countless people who sent flowers to Harold. All of them were wrapped exquisitely. This was the first time that Harold had received a flower that was dry and thin and wrapped in simple leather paper. It looked shabby and thin.
“Don’t you like it?” Crystal tilted her head. “This flower cost me seventy cents!”
She sighed and was about to take it back when Harold grabbed her wrist, took the rose from her hand, and said, “Who told you that I don’t like it?”
“You look unhappy, Crystal said.
Harold twirled the rose in his hand. It was a gorgeous flower with a sweet fragrance. He said, “Do you think it’s appropriate to give me a pink rose?”
Crystal looked at it.
Harold’s clothes were obviously simple, but there was a kind of nobility that couldn’t be described. He was obviously different from others, not to mention that although this person was good-looking, his cold face could scare people to death.
It was indeed strange for him to hold a pink rose.
“Then why don’t you give it to me?” Crystal stretched out her hand, wanting to take the flower back. However, Harold raised his hand high and looked down at Crystal, who was jumping non-stop. “Can you take back the things that were sent out?”
Harold was much taller than Crystal. When he raised his arm, Crystal couldn’t even touch his hand when she jumped up. She simply gave up and said coyly, “It’s you who think it’s inappropriate.” “Crystal.” Harold looked down at her and said slowly, “Do you know what the flower language of pink roses is?”
Crystal was a bumpkin. She blinked and asked, “What?”
Harold didn’t say anything and walked over to the car. “Find out yourself if you want to know.” Crystal followed him into the car. Luke had already left and Harold was driving. Crystal was sitting in the passenger seat. She obediently fastened her seat belt and was still very curious about Harold’s words. However, her phone was old-fashioned and she couldn’t search for anything with it. She looked at Harold and pretended to be very calm as she stretched out her white and tender claws to touch Harold’s windbreaker pocket.
She hadn’t even touched his windbreaker when someone grabbed her hand.
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