Jasmine Yale waited eagerly until nightfall, sitting alone at the dining table, propping her cheek in one hand, and tapping on the table with the other.
This ti Sylvan Cheney ca ho with a green tote bag.
Jasmine’s eyes lit up, she ran over: "You’re back."
"Hmm."
As usual, she took his coat and handed him his slippers.
Still, her gaze lingered on the bag in his hand for a few seconds.
The light green tote was dreamy and exquisite.
Jasmine didn’t know if it was a gift for her.
She eagerly looked at his hand: "Is that a gift for ?"
Sylvan carried the bag to the sofa: "Yes."
"Can I take a look?" Jasmine hopped over, sitting beside him, her eyes brimming with anticipation.
"Eat first."
"Oh."
Jasmine always tended to listen to him, but she didn’t know why he would bring her a gift today.
Today wasn’t any special day.
"I have sothing to tell you," said Jasmine, picking up a rib calmly.
"What’s the matter?" he asked.
She hesitated, "That... the herbal dicine, Butler Santana said you asked the doctor to prescribe it, I’m not drinking it."
"No negotiation."
"The dicine is too bitter, totally unbearable, and my health is quite good. It’s just because of the cold weather this ti that... I felt a bit unwell," Jasmine’s voice grew softer as she spoke.
She was bargaining with Sylvan Cheney.
Sylvan glanced at her faintly: "You can choose not to drink it if you don’t want the gift."
"I..." Jasmine caved.
She admitted that she really wanted Sylvan’s gift.
He rarely bought her gifts, and she treasured each one.
Plus, she was curious about what he would buy for her.
"Hmm?" Sylvan raised an eyebrow, "You have the ti it takes to finish a al to decide."
Then, he served her so braised pork: "Don’t be picky, eat it."
"It will make fat, and if I get fat, I won’t be able to marry off," Jasmine poked at the at, "I’ve gained so much weight staying at the Cheney Residence."
"Cooking yourself in Cakago?"
Jasmine shook her head: "Can’t cook myself, usually eat out, sotis at Aunt Camden’s house. If Yukon cos back from Old York, he’ll cook."
A look of deep aning flickered across Sylvan’s eyes.
After a while, he finally spoke slowly—
"How do my cooking skills compare to his?"
Jasmine paused.
Then realizing, she smiled softly: "They’re different, hard to compare."
"Jasmine Yale, you really don’t know how to sweet-talk soone."
"..." Jasmine was baffled. Did she say sothing wrong?
However, after about ten seconds, she understood and smiled shaking his arm: "Although Yukon’s cooking is not bad, I prefer yours, it’s just that you hardly ever cook for , I almost forgot the taste."
That one ti in Cakago, in her apartnt, he had cooked once.
She rembered it being delicious.
"What do you call him?"
"Yu... Mr. Carbon," Jasmine pouted.
To make ands, she served him his favorite lotus root and at sandwich and also poured him a bowl of rib soup.
"Rather than cooking," Sylvan paused, the fla in his eyes gazing at her, "I prefer making... you."
Jasmine’s hand holding the chopsticks paused, her face instantly flushing red.
It was only a casual remark, but her heart throbbed violently.
With a "clack," she put down her chopsticks and glared at him: "Shaless at your age."
"..."
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