"Mr. Cheney is in the hospital," Butler Santana said. "Miss Yale, would you like to go see him?"
Miss Yale’s heart clenched. He really was in the hospital.
"Which hospital? Is it serious?"
"I can take you there; it’s hard to say how serious it is, he probably hasn’t woken up yet. Miss Yale, who called you? Mr. McIntosh?"
"No," Jasmine Yale just shook her head.
"Oh, Miss Yale, I’ll take you to the hospital."
Butler Santana had been looking forward to Jasmine Yale’s return, and now that she had returned, she couldn’t wait to take her to the hospital.
She set Jasmine Yale’s suitcase aside, her face wearing an expression of worry.
"Miss Yale, will you be leaving again this ti?"
Jasmine gave no response.
Her mind was filled with thoughts of that person, his every smile and frown, his voice, his face.
It felt as if a hand was squeezing her heart, leaving her breathless.
It couldn’t be the last ti, he had to get better.
Butler Santana sighed and handed her a thermos, "Miss Yale, I just made this chicken soup this morning, please take it to Mr. Cheney."
"Is it serious?" Jasmine Yale frowned.
"He’s been vomiting blood these past few days, and he’s had a persistent high fever; the situation is quite serious. Mr. Cheney originally refused to be hospitalized, he only went because he couldn’t stand it any longer."
"He’s acting like a child. What’s so bad about being in the hospital? Is it embarrassing?"
"Mr. Cheney won’t listen to anything I say, he still smokes and drinks even though he’s not well, he doesn’t take his health seriously at all."
Jasmine Yale gritted her teeth.
She knew Sylvan Cheney’s temperant, that he would do as he pleased no matter who tried to persuade him.
"Miss Yale, when Mr. Cheney wakes up, please try to persuade him, he will definitely listen to you."
"Why would he listen to ?"
It’s not like she hadn’t tried before.
She told him not to smoke, but he was determined to do it, making a joke of himself.
"Mr. Cheney will listen to you, he will," Butler Santana said with certainty. "Miss Yale, let’s go."
Butler Santana led Jasmine Yale out of the Cheney Residence.
"Miss Yale, did you have a good New Year? Did you spend it alone?"
Jasmine Yale shook her head, "No."
"Oh," Butler Santana didn’t ask further, not alone ant probably she spent it with Mr. Carbon.
Butler Santana prattled on, "This year, Mr. Cheney spent New Year’s alone at the Cheney Residence, he had a simple al on New Year’s Eve, then smoked alone in his bedroom. It was quite lonely..."
"Butler Santana, what about the people at Cheney Residence?"
"Mr. Cheney dismissed them."
"Why?" Jasmine Yale’s eyes widened, "Why dismiss everyone from an estate as good as Cheney Residence?"
"I’m not sure; Miss Yale, you can ask him when he wakes up."
Jasmine Yale was full of doubt; how could everything have changed so much in the one year she hadn’t been back?
Everything seed desolate, devoid of life.
This wasn’t the Cheney Residence she rembered; in her mind, the Cheney Residence was vibrant and bustling.
Was it because he was sick, that he dismissed the servants?
Jasmine Yale was confused and no one could answer her.
The landscape blurred past the taxi window, trees rushing by in sudden retreat.
Jasmine Yale’s fingers gently caressed the thermos; it had been over a year since she last saw him, would he still recognize her?
And what about her, would she still recognize him?
The taxi traveled along the bustling streets of Landon; the morning fog had already dissipated, her scarf still wrapped around her neck, not yet taken off.
About half an hour later, the taxi stopped in front of a hospital.
"Third floor, VIP ward," Butler Santana led Jasmine Yale towards the inside of the hospital.
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