Jasmine Yale's little thoughts could never be hidden from Sylvan Cheney.
The seashells on the ground spelled out their names: "Nián Qī," with a big heart in between.
Sylvan Cheney looked down at the sandy beach for a long time.
The sunlight fell, and the shells shimmered with a silvery gloss, like little mirrors.
Sylvan Cheney shook his head helplessly, impressed at how quickly Jasmine had collected so many shells.
"Do you like it?" Jasmine looked at Sylvan expectantly, like a student seeking praise.
"Jasmine Yale, you are really childish." Sylvan watched her, a smile curving upward at the corners of his lips, and rubbed her face gently with his large hand, "You are grown up, yet you act like a teenager."
Suddenly, Jasmine stepped forward, hugged his waist tightly, and held on: "I have always been the same."
Whether it's herself or her heart, she had never changed.
If only she had changed, at least she wouldn't have to worry about him alone.
