This version of Sylvan Cheney seemed like a different person—calm, composed, poised. Every detail, every idea was thoroughly thought out, with no aspect lacking in rigor.
Jasmine Yale listened and nodded.
Sunlight streamed through the window, carrying a warm glow.
In the car, Jasmine Yale bowed her head, her hair shimmering with a golden light, her face gentle and serene.
Sylvan Cheney's gaze rested on her face, his voice carrying an unwavering calm and confidence.
After a long while, Jasmine Yale closed the blueprints and returned them to him: "President, take good care of these yourself. If someone else saw them, it wouldn't be a small matter."
"You still haven't told me your opinion."
"Me?" Jasmine Yale quietly said, "If finances allow, I agree to start. This plan is much better than the previous one. And I can tell, President, you've had this in mind for quite a while, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Such confidential things, President, you shouldn't show me. I might betray you."
