Chapter 1147: Chapter 1147: Waiting Until Snow Covers My Head
Last ti she left Landon it was still sumr, and in the blink of an eye, it had beco winter.
She wanted to see Sylvan Cheney.
Her mind was a tangled ss of threads, impossible to cut or to sort out.
A gust of wind blew, and she squinted slightly.
Landon was still the sa old self, the sky overcast, devoid of much color.
The sun shone weakly on the ground, lazy and listless, with the sll of haze always floating in the air.
From the airport, she went to the hotel.
Fearing he might not want to see her, she chose to stake out the Cheney Residence at night.
The night sky was pitch-black, and it was even darker near the Cheney Residence, but the stars above were clearly visible.
From afar, she saw the lights of the Cheney Residence on, the sa old sight she had known for sixteen years.
The roads near the Cheney Residence were lined with flowers and trees, and when the wind blew, it carried the scent of vegetation.
But this season, all the leaves had withered, leaving only the bare branches.
Jasmine Yale got out of the taxi and chose a concealed path.
She was more than familiar with the Cheney Residence, so familiar she could na every plant and tree.
As a child, her curiosity had made her question everything in and around the nearby plants.
“Mr. Cheney, what’s the na of this flower?”
“And this grass?”
“What about this fruit, can it be eaten?”
Back then, he seed to know everything in her eyes, and she truly admired him.
At first, he was patient enough to answer her, but later on, he couldn’t help but frown, “Figure it out yourself.”
Figure out what? She didn’t know, how was she supposed to figure it out?
She was angered.
There was one ti when she picked a bunch of beautiful fruits, holding them in her palm and asked him naively, “What’s this called? Can it be eaten? I’ve picked a lot, let’s share.”
Sylvan Cheney: “…”
“Why won’t you answer , can it be eaten? It looks very tasty.”
“Try eating it,” the youthful Sylvan Cheney said with a smirk.
Upon hearing his words, she actually ate them.
The result was that after eating the fruits, she felt as if she was drunk, dazed, a surreal sensation.
The next day, she missed school and slept at ho all day long.
Later, oh later, she found out that those fruits were locally known as “Drunken Fruit,” which could make one feel as drunk as if inebriated after eating only a few, to the point of losing consciousness.
They were brightly colored, but not at all tasty.
Those fruits were usually used for making wine, nobody ate them.
Anger, he actually deceived her into eating them!
Cheat!
Yet, as a child, she was forgetful, and whenever Sylvan Cheney deceived her, after getting angry, she soon let it go—waking up to be just as friendly with Sylvan, following him around like a cheerful puppy.
Whenever she encountered sothing tasty, her first thought was still to share it with him.
If there were plums, she’d offer him so; if she had cola, she’d also split it with him; and if she won a scholarship, she was so excited she would’ve gladly given him half the money.
Back then, she was truly naive; if he was good to her, she wanted to be good to him as well.
Although he seed particularly bothered by drinking cola after her.
At this thought, a tear unexpectedly fell, landing on the back of her hand, cool to the touch.
Jasmine Yale’s eyes, misty, looked towards the Cheney Residence.
The place that held twelve years of her mories, where she experienced every emotion one could feel.
The Cheney Residence was calm and peaceful.
She stood by a tall banyan tree, its thick trunk hiding her entire figure.
Her lonely shadow fell on the ground, and when the wind blew, it was still very cold.
She was waiting for him.
Just like on countless days and nights of the past, she sat on the sofa waiting for him.
Those years, she had waited without regret.
She had waited through wind, through rain, through snow falling thickly upon her.
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