"Nonsense." Sylvan Cheney glanced at him.
The young boy was imrsed in joy, oblivious to Sylvan Cheney’s sarcastic sneer, cheerfully said, "Uncle, do you know what kind of man is the most terrifying?"
"..."
"A man who doesn’t know how to coax won!" The boy laughed heartily, "Girls are like little treasures, you’re afraid they’ll fall if you hold them in your hands, afraid they’ll lt if you hold them in your mouth. Little treasures need to be pampered, indulged, and protected. If anything goes wrong, you should first reflect on yourself, not bla the little treasure. Think about it, how could a little treasure do anything wrong!"
"..." Sylvan gave him a glance.
"Uncle, your expression seems to disagree with . This attitude will lead to a lonely life," the boy clicked his tongue, "You don’t think girls can do anything wrong, do you?"
"Don’t they?" Sylvan replied coldly.
"Oh my god, Uncle, you actually have such thoughts! This is a wrong mindset! Uncle, you need to change! Girls are never wrong!"
Sylvan: "..."
"Uncle, just an example, if your girlfriend takes a liking to another man, your first reaction should be to reflect on yourself! Reflect if you’re not attentive enough, not gentle enough, or if your kissing skills aren’t good enough... This way, society is really wonderful, society is really harmonious." The boy laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Uncle, these are my exclusive secrets. I’m only sharing them with you because I’m in a good mood today. No more talking, I have to go make my little treasure happy now!"
With that, the young boy ran off happily.
The noisy chatter suddenly quieted down around Sylvan.
Sylvan Cheney furrowed his brows, with emotions simring in his eyes.
Truly baffling.
The tipsiness kicked in, Sylvan loosened his tie and unbuttoned one button at the collar.
A cool breeze wafted in, but the liquor’s effects didn’t lessen, leaving him feeling sowhat woozy.
From a distance, the sound of singing and dancing, along with piano music, occasionally drifted from the hall. What was once delightful classical music now sounded noisy.
Sylvan took another cigarette from his trouser pocket.
Just as he was about to light it, the boy’s call of "Uncle" irritated him.
Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he pulled out his phone and sent a WeChat ssage: Do I look very old?
On the other end, Jasmine Yale had just finished her bath and was towel-drying her hair when her phone vibrated.
She casually opened it, saw Sylvan’s ssage, and smiled.
She couldn’t help but reply: Boss, do you want the truth or a lie?
Sylvan had a sinking feeling; did he really look that old?
He texted back: Forget it, don’t say anything.
Jasmine playfully teased him and felt pleased: The truth is, you’re not old, not old at all!
Sylvan: ...
Jasmine continued humming a tune while drying her hair.
Days off work are truly delightful.
But she was puzzled, why would Sylvan suddenly ask such an inexplicable question?
When a man starts worrying about his looks... it’s not a good sign, likely ans he’s involved with soone.
Jasmine opened the window, letting the cool autumn breeze in, its freshness mingled with the scent of grass.
The night was deep, the clouds were thin.
Jasmine felt carefree, humming a song, resting her cheek on her hand as she gazed out the window.
After a while, the phone buzzed again.
Sylvan: What are you doing?
Jasmine quickly replied: Nowhere as exciting as your nightlife, just finished bathing, about to go to sleep.
Sylvan: I’m at a party, drank a bit much.
Jasmine: People seeking trouble can’t be stopped.
Sylvan: Maternity leave... is it pleasant?
Jasmine: Thank you.
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