After buying what she needed, Jasmine Yale walked along the wide hospital road with a backpack on her back.
The leaves fell quietly, and she felt like a wanderer, walking alone on an unfamiliar street.
Just then, she received a call from Yukon Carbon.
"Jasmine, I just got to Old York. How have you been the past few days?" Yukon Carbon asked, standing at the window of his office, looking out at the endless blue sky.
"I’m doing fine, no worries."
"Did you have breakfast? Take care of yourself, no one’s there to look after you in Cakago."
"I just had a check-up, it’s okay, I can take care of myself. Don’t worry, I’m not a child anymore."
"In my eyes, you’re still like a kid." Yukon Carbon laughed.
"Is it who seems childish, or is it you? Fighting at your age, are you all healed now?"
"I’m fine, just a little scratch on the corner of my mouth. Soone else got hurt more than ." Yukon Carbon spoke of the person with disdain.
"Yukon, he’s been good to . You misunderstood him. That Alice is not his fiancée. He clarified it to ."
"Is that so? Walking arm in arm in public isn’t embarrassing enough?"
"Maybe it’s just a formality."
"Don’t make excuses for him. People like that need a beating to behave."
"Yukon, you fight really well, don’t you? But he’s trained."
"He only dodged a little instinctively at the start but never fought back afterward."
Yukon Carbon’s words confird Jasmine Yale’s guess.
She had expected that Sylvan Cheney might not have fought back.
"Yukon, it’s fine now. Don’t let this distract you because of ."
"Hmm, I know you have a sense of proportion." Yukon Carbon didn’t say much more.
Hanging up the phone, Jasmine Yale’s eyes held a bewildered look, that sense of proportion...
Her sense of proportion was already ssed up.
Jasmine Yale grasped the straps of her backpack with both hands, silently looking at the road ahead.
"Jasmine."
Soone called out to her.
Jasmine Yale was startled and turned around bewilderedly.
Under a tall plane tree, a man in a hospital gown stood quietly, his tall figure stretched out by the sunlight on the grass.
His gaze was fixed on her, never leaving.
Jasmine Yale paused, it was Sylvan Cheney. He did know to co to the hospital.
She thought he would have disregarded his life for work.
His face was very pale, though there were no visible injuries on his face, his neck showed clear bruises.
Sylvan Cheney’s desolate figure intertwined with the tree’s shadow, forming a thin landscape sketch.
There was no one else under the tree, just him standing there, making him seem more thin and lonely.
In the sunlight, Sylvan Cheney’s pale face appeared even more white, very thin, even his hospital gown seed ill-fitting, appearing loose. His beard seed untrimd for days, with a ring of stubble showing, making him look haggard.
Jasmine Yale felt a pain in her chest.
Her bright eyes were fixed on him.
She was neither too far nor too close, a few steps would let her stand right in front of him.
Her heart felt as if it was being clenched.
She knew she felt sorry for him again.
Her hands clutching the straps of her backpack involuntarily tightened, her fingers slightly trembling.
The sunlight cast a faint golden hue on her, her black hair gleaming with a lustrous shine, the wind lifting the soft strands by her ears, leaving only Sylvan Cheney’s figure in her pupils.
He didn’t make another sound, his thin lips tightly shut, his face bearing the usual nobility and aloofness, along with his characteristic stubbornness.
Jasmine Yale didn’t know whether she should approach him or not.
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