The next second, upon hearing the sound of a bottle tipping over, nearly all five or six people in mourning garb were simultaneously startled, then one of them, the one closest to Han Yu, slowly turned her head.
It was a woman, a very young, beautiful woman.
Han Yu felt she looked familiar, but he couldn't, at that moment, remember who she was, where, or when he had seen her.
"You are..." Han Yu began to speak, wanting to ask her a question.
But before he could even finish half a sentence, the woman silently bent down, picked up another bottle from the ground, and handed it to him.
Han Yu didn't understand the meaning of this, but he still instinctively took the bottle.
All the liquid in this bottle was still there, and Han Yu held it under his nose to smell it, feeling a gust of oil fragrance directly hitting his forehead.
