Jasmine Yale sighed, his habits really haven't changed, still disliking hotpot as always.
It's not that he hates eating hotpot, but he dislikes the strong smell.
"How about French cuisine?" Jasmine Yale asked.
"Sure."
Jasmine Yale's mood improved, and she hummed a little tune.
Outside the car, the sun was shining brightly, its splendid light filtering through the car window, warming her body.
The autumn streets had turned golden yellow, the trees on the roadside seemed painted with yellow dye, unique and pleasing to the eye.
The leaves gently fell, covering the streets with a golden layer, and when the wind blew, they danced like kites with broken strings.
Jasmine Yale gazed at the scenery one moment, and the next moment, she was looking at Sylvan Cheney.
His profile was as handsome as ever, with exquisite eyebrows and eyes, and a deep-set contour.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing skin with some scars, but it didn't mar his appearance.
