As Jasmine Yale watched, she grew sleepy, holding the small gift tightly in one hand and placing the other on her stomach as she fell asleep.
Butler Santana covered her with a blanket and sighed softly.
...
The plane flew for a full eleven hours, and it was just as night had fallen when they arrived in Cakago.
It was already dark, the night sky hung low, and the moonlight shone through thin clouds onto the ground.
Cakago was bustling at this ti of night, the streets full of noise.
It was a bit cold in the evening, and Jasmine Yale breathed into her hands to warm them as she and Butler Santana took a taxi to their rented apartnt complex.
After being away for a few days, the complex looked the sa as ever. It had essentially beco Jasmine Yale’s ho. As the familiar feeling washed over her, warmth spread through her chest.
"Miss Yale, you must be tired. After dinner, have a bath and rest early," Butler Santana said, helping her take off her coat.
"Yes, I’m really tired. I don’t want to eat. I’ll just bathe and sleep."
"You can’t skip eating. Have a little. You go bathe first, and I’ll prepare so light red bean dumplings for you, okay?"
Jasmine Yale had to agree, "Alright, I’ll go take a bath."
Untying her headband and shedding her clothes, Jasmine Yale laid in the warm bathtub.
The entire bathroom felt particularly cozy; the water was warm, the air was hot, and the night was quiet except for the sound of water and Jasmine Yale’s shallow breathing.
Perhaps the temperature was too comfortable, and she dozed off a bit, nearly falling asleep.
She had never slept well on planes, and as soon as she got off, all she wanted was to sleep.
To avoid catching a cold, she hastily dressed, dried her hair, and went into the bedroom to eat the red bean dumplings Butler Santana had prepared.
The dumplings were plump and white like little elves.
Jasmine Yale blew on them to cool them and ate them one by one.
The red bean filling was fragrant and sweet, the taste lingering in her mouth.
She rembered that Sylvan Cheney also loved these dumplings, though he found the red bean filling too rich; he preferred the rice wine-flavored osmanthus dumplings.
When she was little and had no appetite due to a cold and cough, he would have Aunt Hurst make dumplings for her. He would patiently feed her, spoonful by spoonful, until her belly was full and her color returned.
These mories were like honey, carefully cherished by her.
What were once shared mories were now hers alone.
Even after losing his mory, he still liked her, which was already beyond her expectations, so she no longer dared to wish for anything more.
Exhausted and weary from travel, Jasmine Yale was sleepy.
She lay on the bed clutching the blanket and fell asleep almost instantly, unable to keep her eyes open.
The night undulated slightly, the starry sky brilliant, and the darkness stretched infinitely.
The next morning.
Jasmine Yale was so tired that she couldn’t lift her hand. She groggily pressed the number for the secretary departnt head and asked for another day off.
The departnt head was quite accommodating, not giving her a hard ti, just reminding her to rest well and rember to co to work.
Jasmine Yale caught up on sleep until almost noon, then struggled to sit up from the bed, rubbing her eyes as she looked towards the window.
Her vision gradually cleared; today was another bright and sunny day.
"Butler Santana, Butler Santana."
"Miss Yale." Butler Santana, who was cooking, hurried in, "Awake? Are you going to work today?"
"No." Jasmine Yale shook her head, "I’ve taken another day off. Make a lighter lunch; my appetite isn’t great, and I don’t feel like eating much."
"You’re too tired; long flights are exhausting. I’m not used to them either."
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