Sylvan Cheney was still looking at the computer.
Jasmine Yale stopped for a moment. On such a night, with such silence, she was reluctant to leave.
"CEO Cheney, are you still working overtime?" Jasmine Yale asked.
Sylvan Cheney looked up, displeased: "You're asking too much!"
"Oh." Jasmine Yale gave an awkward smile. Under the lights, her face had a serene tranquility, and her smile was very comforting. Even though Sylvan Cheney snapped at her, her smile did not change, "Then you should get some rest early. Drinking causes headaches. If you have a headache, remember to drink some hangover tea. Don't take painkillers, they have side effects."
Sylvan Cheney glanced at her coldly, his expression growing darker.
Jasmine Yale knew she was meddling too much.
He had a fiancée, he had servants; he didn't lack people to take care of him.
The night was deep, and such a night grew increasingly quiet.
Her gentle voice was infectious, spreading in the expansive office.
