The silent Sylvan Cheney was calm, with a gentle, clean face.
His eyelashes were long, casting a fan-shaped shadow on his eyelids.
Perhaps due to the medication, Sylvan Cheney had calmed down, stopped speaking, and settled back into slumber.
Only then did Jasmine Yale carefully turn off the light and find a spot beside the bed to sleep.
His apartment was comfortable, and before long, Jasmine Yale was so tired she fell asleep as well.
She wasn't picky about her bed and fell asleep as soon as she lay down.
Outside the window, the moonlight was clear, casting a hazy light on the pale gray curtains, vaguely imprinting blurry outlines.
Late at night.
She wasn't sure what time it was.
After sleeping for a while, Jasmine Yale felt a cool, damp sensation on her chest.
She moved slightly and reached out to turn on the bedside lamp.
"Sylvan Cheney, what are you doing!" Jasmine Yale hurriedly pulled her robe snugly around herself, glaring at him.
