"Mr. President." She called out to him, her voice tender.
"Hmm?"
"That night... the night of my birthday, were you at Season waiting for me the whole time?" Jasmine Yale asked cautiously.
Sylvan Cheney's expression darkened slightly, his tone carrying a hint of displeasure: "Who was waiting for you? Whether you're there or not doesn't really matter."
"Oh, but when you blocked me downstairs, you said you'd waited all night for me."
"I had too much to drink."
"So, were there a lot of colleagues there?" Jasmine Yale asked seriously, "Did the colleagues in charge of the amusement park project all go? Was it lively?"
"Hmm, they all went, and the atmosphere was good, so I drank a lot," Sylvan Cheney's expression remained unchanged.
"Pfft," Jasmine Yale couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
Sylvan Cheney gave her a disdainful glance, his face indifferent: "Ridiculous."
