Jasmine Yale spoke calmly, but she noticed a shift in Sylvan Cheney’s eyes.
Back when she was eight, she was also like this, scared of doing anything and only daring to follow him.
His mory was better than hers; if she hadn’t forgotten, he definitely hadn’t either.
"So, asking over tonight, was it to reminisce? Hm?" Sylvan squinted at her.
She didn’t know how much she had drunk, her cheeks flushed with a reddish tint, and a dazed glow in her eyes.
One hand holding a wine glass, she sotis talked while taking sips of red wine, the action quite casual.
"Not really, just suddenly felt a bit sentintal. What’s the point of reminiscing? The past is always the past. Whether sweet or bitter, it has all passed. The future is what’s worth looking forward to, right?" Jasmine propped her cheek in her hand, her big eyes looking directly at her.
She couldn’t rember when she last looked at him like this.
When they were kids, she would often sneak glances at him when he wasn’t paying attention, or stare at him while he was asleep.
Who could bla her? He was just too handso.
No matter how much she looked, it was never enough.
Now, the man in front of her was even more handso than before, mature, dignified, and elegant.
"Yes," Sylvan admitted, "What are your plans for the future?"
"Why should I tell you?" Jasmine slightly tipsy, her complexion sowhat seductive, her tone becoming a bit petulant, "What about you? What are your plans? Getting married? Having a sibling for Chaley? Or just staying single?"
"If you don’t tell , I won’t tell you either. That’s fair."
"Rascal," she laughed, resting her cheek in her hand, "Really, no businessman isn’t shrewd. Everything revolves around benefits and fairness."
If that was the case, why couldn’t a simple multiple-choice question be answered?
Jasmine’s wine glass was empty; she poured herself another.
Just then, fireworks began outside, colorful and vibrant, blooming like beautiful flowers.
"Pop," one after another, the fireworks continuously burst, painting the black sky in splendid colors.
For that instant, the night turned as bright as day.
"I want to watch the fireworks," Jasmine stood up and ran to the window.
By the window ledge was a small platform. Standing there, she could lean on the ledge, rest her cheek on her hand, and gaze dreamily at the sky.
It wasn’t that the fireworks were especially spectacular; she just enjoyed the stunning tranquility they brought.
Her head tilted, her gaze constantly falling on the fireworks outside.
The building was tall; she could see everything clearly, her heart brimming with joy.
In that instant, she felt delighted.
Sylvan had unknowingly walked up beside her, standing shoulder to shoulder with her.
As cluster after cluster of fireworks blood in the night sky, as he drew closer, she could sll that familiar scent of Agarwood Fragrance on him, ever-present.
She hadn’t expected to once more stand quietly with him to watch fireworks.
"Mr. Cheney, do you think I’m prettier, or are the fireworks prettier?" she suddenly asked.
"What do you think?"
Jasmine laughed softly, "Of course, I’m prettier."
Sylvan hooked the corner of his lips but said nothing.
She was shorter than him, leaning over the platform to watch the fireworks, looking almost as though she was nestled in his arms.
"How I wish ti could flow backwards..." she murmured dreamily.
Flowing back to the past, to her teenage years.
Back then, her world consisted only of him.
Without any of the later complexities and resentnts, those days were uneventful but warm and peaceful.
"Do you see as a sister?" Jasmine asked while watching the fireworks, her tone soft.
"..." He didn’t speak.
"Not talking again, clearly feeling guilty."
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