The clouds are light, and the air is thin.
"Baby, time to go home." Jasmine Yale touched her belly, withdrew her gaze, and returned to her gentle smile.
She held a handbag.
Just as she was about to stand up, suddenly—
Jasmine Yale saw that black Maybach again!
From a distance, the car slowly stopped, the waiter opened the car door, and a man in an ink-colored shirt stepped out from the backseat.
"Sylvan Cheney!"
"Clang—" Jasmine Yale's bag fell to the ground!
It was still a position with no clear angle, yet this man's back looked so much like Sylvan Cheney's!
But when he raised his hand, the watch he wore wasn't the one Sylvan Cheney always liked.
The man was very young, tall, with every gesture exuding a gentleman's charm.
He leaned his head towards the waiter beside him, saying something, and soon the waiter led him from the main entrance into the hotel.
He was very far from her.
This time, Jasmine Yale didn't impulsively rush over.
