Tonight, at the estate, there was too much drinking.
After coming back, he threw up twice. The drunkenness eased a bit, but the headache and stomach pain didn't lessen at all.
He didn't expect Jasmine Yale to call at this hour.
Outside the window, the night was deep and it was already late.
In Sylvan Cheney's apartment, there was no sound, only the soft and lively voice of Jasmine Yale.
"At this hour, I don't want to hear about any work matters. If there's something, say it during the day!"
"Why are you still up? You know it's past midnight, why aren't you sleeping?" Jasmine could hear the fatigue and weakness in his voice.
But who was he? He was Sylvan Cheney. No matter how exhausted, he wouldn't show it at all.
"Do you know it's very rude to call at this hour? Hmm? Besides, calling me in the middle of the night, I can't guarantee you don't have other intentions."
Jasmine was so angry that she trembled.
What kind of talk is this?
