"No need." Sylvan Cheney declined.
He simply tended to the wound, and the gauze had already been stained red.
The evening breeze blew across the open ground, making a wailing sound; the surroundings were vast and utterly quiet.
"I'm sorry, President, I'm sorry, it's my negligence." The project manager kept apologizing.
"It's okay, it's too dark." Sylvan didn't make a fuss.
Before leaving, he glanced at the fluttering fireflies and the boundless sky, finally grabbing the car keys and leaving.
Blood was still flowing from his wrist, causing some pain as he furrowed his brows and started the car.
In such open areas, driving was easy; he just needed to follow the main road straight ahead.
Sylvan turned on the music in the car, and soothing classical music began to play, calming his restless heart.
As he distanced himself from the open ground, the fireflies gradually disappeared, leaving only the trees along the road to accompany him.
The trees passed by one by one.
