Sylvan Cheney’s expression was as composed and calm as ever, with maturity and stability.
After shaking hands, Sylvan Cheney still wore a friendly smile on his face.
Butler Santana still hadn’t recovered from the shock.
Jasmine Yale said proactively, "Butler Santana, it’s so cold outside, Evan gave his jacket. Could you please make him a cup of hot tea? The pu-erh from ho will do."
"Okay, okay." Butler Santana responded chanically, but her gaze never left Sylvan Cheney’s face.
Mr. Cheney truly didn’t rember her.
The composure and calm on his face didn’t seem to be feigned.
He really didn’t rember.
No wonder Jasmine Yale said not to be shocked no matter what you see.
Butler Santana didn’t dare to speak rashly and simply followed Jasmine Yale’s suggestion, turning back into the house.
Sylvan Cheney frowned, actually quite puzzled by Aunt Jasmine’s reaction.
Could it be... he really resembled Jasmine Yale’s deceased husband? To such an extent?
Jasmine Yale held his hand, "Co in, I’ll show you my bedroom and the baby’s room."
"Hmm."
Butler Santana went to the kitchen to brew tea, she still hadn’t collected herself, almost burning her hand several tis.
Mr. Cheney, he is Mr. Cheney.
No wonder last ti she saw a familiar back, it wasn’t a hallucination; Jasmine Yale had encountered Mr. Cheney a long ti ago, but he seed to have forgotten everything.
What really happened?
Butler Santana’s heart raced, no matter what, Mr. Cheney is not dead, which was trendous news.
Mr. Cheney is alive and well.
What could be more important than being alive?
Jasmine Yale took Sylvan Cheney to see her small bedroom.
"See that bunny? It was the first gift you gave to the baby, but I took it. I sleep with it, it’s very comfortable," Jasmine Yale pointed at the bunny beside the pillow.
"Sleeping with is more comfortable." He bowed his head and kissed her neck.
"Here’s the baby’s room. Looks good, doesn’t it? I specifically bought pink wallpaper, and all the things you got are still here." Jasmine Yale walked around casually with him.
Sylvan Cheney closed the door and pulled her hand, lowering his voice, "Your aunt’s reaction to seeing didn’t seem quite right."
"Maybe she was struck by your handsoness."
"Liar," Sylvan Cheney tickled her underarm.
Jasmine Yale hugged him, "Don’t ss around."
"Do you have any photo albums? I’d like to see pictures of you from before," Sylvan Cheney asked.
"No albums, just a few scattered photos, I don’t take many pictures."
"Oh." Sylvan Cheney didn’t inquire further.
It seems she doesn’t even have wedding photos, let alone a wedding gown.
"You seem very satisfied with your current life," Sylvan Cheney said.
"Hmm, what is there not to be satisfied with? You’ve known for quite a while; you should know, I don’t have many ambitions."
"You may not have ambitions, but I do."
"Hmm?"
"I will give you a better life." He lifted his finger, gently caressing her lips, his gaze deep with infinite calmness.
"I don’t care about that; I can support you."
"Who wants you to support them?" Sylvan Cheney suddenly pressed her against the wall, leaning closer to her face, "Can you afford to support ? Hmm?"
"Maybe I can." Jasmine Yale scoffed, "Get up, my aunt is still here."
Sylvan Cheney refused, pressing her, kissing her pale neck a few tis.
Until he saw a few marks on her neck that belonged to his kisses, only then did he release her contentedly.
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