Nevertheless, she still craned her neck to look at the Cheney Residence.
The Cheney Residence still looked as familiar as it did, brightly lit, with servants bustling about.
The street lamps at the Cheney Residence were lovely, carved into the shape of cherry blossoms, dreamy and ethereal.
When she was young, she particularly liked to sit under the lamps and gaze up, doing nothing but watch the light.
Coming back now, everything is still as beautiful.
"Miss Yale, do you have anything else to convey to Mr. Cheney?" Tomer asked.
Another gentle hint to depart.
Jasmine Yale averted her gaze and shook her head subtly. "No more."
Turning around, she left the Cheney Residence.
Walking step by step, carrying a sense of abandonment.
The evening wind fluttered her long hair, stray strands sticking to her face.
It was cold.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
The lonely night sky, the dim moonlight, the lengthy path.
Seemingly endless.
