There's a nutritionist at home, but Mr. Cheney personally oversees the little young master's three meals a day.
During those three years, Mr. Cheney didn't live very comfortably, and she could see it plainly.
But every time he looked at the little young master, no matter how bad his mood was, a loving smile would always grace his face.
Sylvan Cheney lowered his head, slicing ribs and green onions, picking out corn, adjusting the flame—his movements were smooth and fluid, like flowing water.
"She's been through a lot during this time," Sylvan said faintly, his tone steady, though his eyes were clouded with a deep, somber sheen. The sharp lines of his face remained calm as always.
Indeed, Jasmine had endured much during this period.
He forbade her from going out, and she obediently stayed inside.
He didn't let her casually call people, and she complied without question.
