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Sylvan Cheney frowned, glancing at the price tag next to him.

It was only 800 yuan.

Did she disdain to use his card?

“Why isn’t dad replying to me.” Chale Cheney muttered.

Just then, the school bell rang, and Chale Cheney put away his phone and opened his textbook.

“Mr. Cheney, we’ve arrived,” the driver parked the car and stated respectfully.

Outside was the towering, luxurious building of the Cheney Group.

The office workers in the building were hurrying about, each heading to their own floor.

“Hmm.”

Se??ch ?ew?o?e? ,o?g o? ?oo?l?

The doorman was already heading out to open the car door for Sylvan Cheney.

Following him was Charles Mcintosh.

Sylvan Cheney handed his phone to Charles Mcintosh, his voice void of any emotion, “Buy this pair of shoes.”

Charles Mcintosh glanced down and saw a pair of white high heels, decorated with rhinestones, elegant and simple.

Very beautiful, but not pricey.

Understanding implicitly, Charles didn’t ask any questions, he simply nodded, “Alright.”

Sylvan Cheney strode towards the executive elevator, his face as cold and low-key as always.

Once he arrived at the office, he checked the contact information Chale Cheney had sent him.

It was a bit of everything.

Mobile number, QQ, WeChat, Weibo…

After his return to the country, the only way he contacted her was through the mobile number.

In the past, they lived under the same roof and seemed to have never considered the fact that they may become strangers one day.

Or even worse, to become increasingly distant.

He could tell she was avoiding him.

What about him?

His finger slid and once again tapped open the text message she had sent him last night: Do you like me?

His gaze lingered on the screen for a while.

Sunlight streamed in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating his mahogany desk.

The desk reflected the glowing light, shining onto Sylvan Cheney’s deep, expressionless face.

After a while, he added Jasmine Yale’s WeChat.

Her profile picture was a selfie with a line written in the status update: Waiting for a tree to bloom, waiting for someone to arrive.

Jasmine Yale was organising a news article when she heard her phone vibrate.

Hmm? Someone added her.

She glanced at it, a stranger, someone she didn’t know.

She accepted the request, then turned off her phone and continued writing the news article.

Jasmine Yale was typing on the keyboard, looking at the computer screen.

The gardenia flowers on her desk were emitting a strong fragrance, and with it, the scent of late summer.

The weather was gradually becoming cooler, autumn was approaching.

“Ding dong”, her phone rang once.

Jasmine Yale reached out a hand to check.

“Do you like Chale?”

It was the stranger who just added her!

She blinked and then it dawned on her, this was Mr. Yale, the father of the young boy.

She smiled, thinking of little Chale’s image.

When he slept in her arms, she experienced a sense of peace that she had never known before.

She rapidly replied to him, “Yes, Chale is incredibly cute and sensible.”

Sylvan Cheney looked at the message she sent back, his gaze deep yet chilled, a frost crept into his eyes.

He reflexively typed three words: “Regret it?”

But realizing it was inappropriate, he deleted them.

Now, he was Chale Yale’s father, not Sylvan Cheney.

“Hmm.” He only replied with a word.

Jasmine Yale tilted her head, this person’s manner of speech resembled someone she knew!

She quickly typed a few more words: “Mr. Yale, I didn’t return Chale back to you last night, are you upset with me?”

“No.”

“Then Mr. Yale, can I see Chale again in the future?” Jasmine Yale asked carefully.

After all, Chale is someone else’s son…

“Do you really like children?” Sylvan Cheney asked..