The matter had been entwining itself in Jasmine Yale's heart for a long time, unsettling her mood.
Now that she was in Cakago, it wasn't easy to think about returning to Landon.
Yukon Carbon kept her company for the weekend, and as usual, flew back to Old York on Sunday night.
The first snow of winter had already melted, and traces of white on the ground were gradually disappearing.
A few days later, Jasmine received a phone call from Sylvan Cheney.
"Mr. Cheney."
"Looking for me?"
"Is my father with you?" Jasmine asked with difficulty.
When they were together, both she and he tacitly avoided mentioning the third person, but not mentioning didn't mean non-existent, and they could not fool themselves forever.
"Haven't I made myself clear enough? Huh?"
"I heard that my father is still alive," Jasmine swallowed hard.
"What weight does a man you've never met hold in your heart?"
