Yan Luoxi stood in the living room, gazing at the memorial portrait on the incense table, the photo of Fu Xuan looked very young, her smile as beautiful as a flower, unlike when Yan last saw her, she had since gained a touch of mature wisdom.
Yan Luoxi slowly walked over and stood before the incense table. It seemed incense was burned here daily, the ash in the incense burner was still fresh—she was clearly well-respected here.
She couldn't help but find it ironic that someone as rotten to the core as a major drug lord was respected like this, what kind of person was Fu Xuan really?
Footsteps sounded behind her, Yan Luoxi turned to see Xue Changkong enter. She carefully hid her wariness, quietly watching him approach. "Is this her residence?"
Xue Changkong glanced at her, then stepped to the incense table, took two sticks of incense, lit them, and extinguished the flame. He handed one stick to her, "Luoxi, offer some incense."
