"Bang," she angrily shut the car door.
The black Ferrari started, and Jasmine sat in the back, unable to suppress the emotions inside her.
Those emotions, like duckweed, floated around in her chest, ceaseless and endless.
She turned her face to look out the window, her expression calm.
The golden sunlight shone on her slightly pale face, giving her a special kind of beauty.
Jasmine propped up her chin, remained silent, and stared out of the window.
She had had a high fever for two days, and her head hurt a lot.
Thinking about what happened that day made her head hurt even more.
"Did Chale come back safe afterward?" Jasmine asked the bodyguard.
"Yes, the young master came back safe, just some superficial injuries, nothing serious."
"Was he scared?"
"No, Little Chale has quite a bit of courage. Miss Yale, Mr. Cheney has been worried about you; when you had the fever, he was with you."
"It's also your responsibility to speak well of your master?"
