It was unclear how much time had passed before Sylvan Cheney finally put on his sunglasses and walked towards the Rolls-Royce.
Charles McIntosh followed closely behind.
"Mr. Cheney, won't you sit for a while? It's so hot outside," Tomer, the butler, sympathized with him, having stood in the cemetery for so long.
Sylvan Cheney didn't speak and left.
Charles Mcintosh drove.
The black Rolls-Royce quickly drove away from the cemetery, getting farther and farther away.
The weary look of exhaustion was evident between Sylvan Cheney's brows; he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
Due to the sunglasses shielding his eyes, Charles Mcintosh couldn't see his face, but he knew Sylvan Cheney wasn't sleeping.
"Sir, when I was young, my father often told me that we need to look forward in life, that the good things always overshadow the bad," Charles Mcintosh spoke gently, "I think, if he knows this from the afterlife, he would still think the same."
