Jasmine Yale held a teacup in her hands, her bright eyes fixed steadily on Sylvan Cheney.
The white mist lingered, and the hospital room was extremely quiet.
Sylvan Cheney stood in front of her, looking down at her, his deep eyes revealing an inscrutable expression.
Sunlight filled the room, the building not too high, occasionally the rustle of leaves from outside the window could be heard, along with the chirping of birds.
Their eyes met.
Infinite emotions rippled like water, the air filled with subtle undertones.
Seeing Sylvan Cheney didn't respond, Jasmine Yale pursed her lips and took a sip of hot water.
"Jasmine Yale." He spoke, his lips somewhat pale, but his gaze was sharp, "This lecturing skill of yours, who did you learn it from? Hmm?"
Quite impressive.
"So do you think I'm right?" Jasmine Yale looked at him.
Who else could she have learned from?
