Chapter 581 - 581- Sylvan Cheney, is it you?
Chapter 581: Chapter 581- Sylvan Cheney, is it you?
Jasmine Yale’s hands and feet were trembling. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the bullet that she knew was coming.
Five gunshots. Jasmine Yale could hear them clearly.
Just as she was waiting for the bullet to tear through her heart, the gunshots stopped.
Those men, it seemed that none of them had escaped, no footstep sounds could be heard.
Even, there was no sound of breathing?
Are they all dead?
Jasmine Yale was terrified and bewildered.
She had walked through the Gate of Ghosts many times in these past few months.
She was no stranger to the sound of gunshots.
Jasmine Yale, her hands braced against the ground, her body limp, couldn’t stand up.
She had no strength left, even breathing seemed to have stopped. Her heart was filled with endless fear.
The air was filled with the smell of blood, very heavy.
When the wind blew, it scattered everywhere.
The bullet that she was waiting for, never fired.
So, she wasn’t going to die, was she?
Jasmine Yale leaned against the tree trunk, weakly closed her eyes, her palms limp.
Tired, so very tired.
On the empty road, the wind blew from the north gate, lifting her hair and the dried tear tracks on her face.
Her face, her lips, were paper-white.
Jasmine Yale sniffed, wanting to cry, but no tears came.
Shots fired in a crowded area, she’d have to go to the police station to assist with the investigation tomorrow, wouldn’t she?
With the New Year approaching and such an event occurred, it truly felt like unwanted trouble.
Jasmine Yale choked miserably, she felt unbearable, wishing she could just die.
There was a heavy feeling in her chest, as if a giant stone was lodged there, pushing her into a corner, every cell in her body struggling.
Her body ached from weakness.
She couldn’t lift her hands, even her eyes were heavy to open.
After a long time, all she could hear was the sound of the wind.
Jasmine Yale clutched her chest, still unable to stand up.
In the darkness, she suddenly heard the sound of measured footsteps.
One step, another.
Getting closer and closer.
Jasmine Yale forced her eyes open, but in the pitch black, she couldn’t see anything.
A few seconds later, the footsteps stopped beside her.
A pair of wide, strong hands picked her up from the ground.
Jasmine Yale’s waist tightened and she opened her eyes wide in the darkness.
“Who are you?”
The person didn’t say anything, only carried her out of the bloodstained area.
A gust of wind blew onto Jasmine Yale’s face. She sniffed and in addition to the smell of blood in the air, she smelled a pleasant aroma of Agarwood Fragrance on the man.
Jasmine Yale’s heart suddenly tightened.
Her chest, as if it was being strangled.
“Sylvan Cheney? Are you Sylvan Cheney?” She asked nervously.
She tried to reach out from his hold and fumbled for him.
The man frowned and sidestepped her reaching hand.
Jasmine Yale missed, but didn’t give up and grabbed his arm.
“Sylvan Cheney, are you alive? Sylvan Cheney, say something!” She asked him over and over.
In her voice, there was an unexplained choke and intensity.
Is it him? Is it…
But the man, remained silent.
After not walking very far, the man let go of her.
The moment she touched the ground, the man walked away.
In the pitch black, Jasmine Yale couldn’t perceive his figure or footstep.
She could only call out into the darkness: “Sylvan Cheney, is it you? Why don’t you answer me? If you’re alive, why won’t you come back? You can hate me, but you can’t abandon Little Chaley…”
In the darkness, the man’s figure seemed to pause for a moment.
Jasmine Yale couldn’t see anything.
“If you’re alive, don’t go, the new year is here, isn’t it better when we’re together?”