Yu stared at the time in the lower right corner of the computer - 23:47.
The last requirement document was finally submitted, and the incandescent lamps in the office area buzzed like a dying breath. He rubbed the red corners of his eyes, and the phone screen suddenly lit up. It's the mother.
"Xiaoyu, that pot of clivia on your window sill..."
"Mom, I'm still working overtime, I'll talk about it tomorrow -"
"It bloomed." The mother's voice was low, as if she was hiding from something. "At three o'clock in the morning, I heard the sound of its roots squirming. Now the petals are dripping with an... Amber-colored juice."
Lin Yu frowned. My mother suffers from mild Alzheimer's disease and only watered plastic artificial flowers for a week last month as real flowers. Just as he was about to comfort him, the sound of shattering glass came from the receiver.
"Mom?"
