Sometimes, Sylvan Cheney would deliberately slow down, watching Jasmine Yale ahead from behind.
In the interplay of light and shadow, the woman in front appeared exceptionally captivating.
Holding the green lisianthus, Jasmine Yale would walk along and suddenly realize Sylvan Cheney was missing. She'd turn her head to look for him, a hint of panic in her eyes.
At that moment, she glancing back was worth a thousand landscapes in Sylvan Cheney's eyes.
The two of them walked casually.
"You... still haven't explained to me what's up with Little Waverly visiting your apartment last time." Jasmine Yale started digging up old scores.
"What Little Waverly, forgotten."
"You really are heartless. Indeed, all handsome men are heartless. That little beauty was gazing fondly at you, pining for you, pampering you, and you can't even remember her name."
"Handsome?" Sylvan Cheney raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
"I'm talking serious business with you."
