Sylvan Cheney strode over, and when he saw the food on the table, there was a deep gleam in his eyes.
"Give it a try, if it’s not good, don’t tell . After all, I’ve been busy for so long," Jasmine Yale handed him the chopsticks, "Eat, aren’t you very hungry? You’ve been urging all this ti."
"You actually know I’ve been urging you?" Sylvan Cheney was furious.
Jasmine Yale: "..."
She separated the two portions of rice, "I’m hungry too, can I eat?"
"Yeah."
Having gotten permission, Jasmine Yale sat facing him, eating the packed dishes.
As she had expected, the first thing Sylvan Cheney ate was the fried tofu; his taste hadn’t changed.
Sylvan Cheney ate, his brows deeply furrowed.
He didn’t speak, just silently ate the rice.
Landon flavor, truly was Landon flavor, very authentic.
"Try everything," Jasmine Yale said, "I think it tastes great, anyway, I particularly like it. Sotis when I can’t finish it, I’ll pack it for the stray dogs downstairs to eat, they like it too."
"Pregnant won should have less contact with animals," Sylvan Cheney stated blandly.
Jasmine Yale was stunned.
Was he showing concern for her?
Maybe the dish truly suited his taste, he didn’t look as irritable.
While Sylvan Cheney lowered his head to eat, sotis Jasmine Yale would daze off, staring blankly at him, watching his every move.
Just like before, elegance in every gesture.
When he lowered his head, it always seed there were infinite thoughts hidden within his long eyelashes, unspeakable and unclear.
"What are you looking at? Eat!" Sylvan Cheney shot her a cold glance.
"Looking at you reminds of my husband, you two are very alike," Jasmine Yale’s voice was calm, with a hint of glistening moisture in her eyes, dim and raw.
"I really dislike it when others say I look like soone. I am , your husband is your husband, I cannot be him."
"Yes, you are not him," Jasmine Yale’s voice dropped.
The Sylvan Cheney now wasn’t the Sylvan Cheney from before.
He wasn’t him.
The two sat silently eating, Sylvan Cheney taciturn, if Jasmine Yale didn’t speak, he also wouldn’t take the initiative to speak.
But once Jasmine Yale started speaking, just a bit too much, he found her noisy and nagging.
Really hard to please.
"Which dish do you think tastes the best?" Midway through the al, Jasmine Yale bit her chopsticks, smiling at him.
When eating, Sylvan Cheney seed much more docile than usual, not so harsh nor caustic.
"Tofu," he said mildly.
Since coming to Cakago, he had not eaten fried tofu again.
Maybe the kitchen here disdained making holy dishes like these, but this was his favorite.
"Liking tofu, it shows you’re not a serious person," Jasmine Yale teased, a sly smile on her face.
"Shut up."
"Oh."
Outside was the endless night, inside was a gentle warmth.
The window was open, the night breeze stirred the drapes, making the monotonous office seem like a celestial palace, shrouded in serene tranquility.
Jasmine Yale’s body carried the fresh scent of body wash and shampoo, comforting and pleasant.
Sylvan Cheney’s chopsticks tapped on the Spoinish ham, his brows furrowing, "This tastes awful."
"Uh..." Jasmine Yale cast him a sideways glance.
All the other dishes were made by Butler Santana, she only made this one.
His taste was really picky.
Sylvan Cheney continued eating, the chill in his stomach gradually dissipating, the pain lessening.
The headache seed to also ease a lot.
It seems, he shouldn’t tire himself too much in the future.
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