Jasmine Yale did not rebut, but just solemnly nodded her head, without any pretense.
Her serious deanor montarily startled Sylvan Cheney.
After a while, he said indifferently, "Let’s have breakfast."
Outside, it was still pitch dark, with no end in sight, as if a curtain covered the sky.
It was just past four in the morning when she finished her breakfast.
Sylvan Cheney helped her put on her coat, and made sure she wasn’t cold before they headed towards the garage.
"You can sleep a bit more; I’ll wake you when we get to the seaside," Sylvan Cheney said.
Jasmine Yale shook her head, "I’m not sleepy; I just miss Sweet Kitty a bit."
Sylvan Cheney hadn’t expected her to suddenly ntion the cat, which was beyond his anticipation.
His eyebrows slightly furrowed.
The black Rolls-Royce drove out of the Cheney Residence.
The vast sky made this early morning uniquely charming.
At the seaside, Sylvan Cheney parked the car on an open space.
The eastern sky was just showing signs of dawn, but the sun had not risen yet; it was the perfect ti to await the sunrise.
Sylvan Cheney brought a red embroidered cloak for her, and patiently tied it for her before leaving the car.
When he ca close, she could clearly see his eyebrows and contours.
Gracefully handso, calm and restrained.
Jasmine Yale kept her head down, silent, quietly watching his actions.
When the tie was secured, she then raised her eyes, which were brimming with water, "Does it look good?"
"Um," Sylvan Cheney bent down and kissed her forehead, "It looks good."
She opened her arms, "Then carry to watch the sunrise."
Sylvan Cheney was dressed very casually today, which looked sowhat different than usual.
"Hold !" Seeing that he hesitated, she could not help but chide again, "If you don’t hold , I’m not getting out."
Perhaps still upset, Jasmine Yale’s words carried a tone of petulance, like a spoilt Little Princess.
Sylvan Cheney’s face was a picture of helplessness as he picked her up from the passenger seat and carried her out of the Rolls-Royce.
Jasmine Yale looped her arms around his neck.
Clad in a red cloak, Jasmine Yale resembled a bride, her cheeks pink and rosy.
Seemingly still not quite appeased, she turned her head and bit hard on his neck.
"Hisss—" Sylvan Cheney’s eyebrows knitted together, "I really spoiled you."
"Regret it?"
"Never regretted."
Jasmine Yale’s anger subsided considerably; she buried her head in his chest, avoiding the cold wind.
Such a morning was indeed cold, chilling to the bone.
But such a wintry sunrise must be very beautiful.
He carried her all the way, timing their arrival at the seaside just as the sun would rise.
The sea breeze, mixed with the salty scent of seawater, assaulted them like knives.
"Choosing this ti to watch the sunrise, you really pick your monts," Sylvan Cheney glanced at Jasmine Yale, whose head was buried in his chest.
"It was you who said you’d take to the seaside today, and I thought that I had never watched a sunrise with you," Jasmine Yale said, "afraid that there might not be another chance."
Afraid that there might not be another chance.
So even in the harsh winter, she had to co.
Sylvan Cheney did not respond, just held her steadily and walked towards the seaside.
The east gradually brightened.
The distant sea was vast and boundless, the only sounds were the waves crashing against the shore, over and over.
The sea breeze stirred up mighty waves, their sound exceptionally clear under the empty night sky.
The beach bore their firm footprints, the path Sylvan Cheney had walked.
This trail of footprints led all the way to the seaside.
The sunrise, too, followed Sylvan Cheney’s footsteps, rising from the east.
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