Outside the bar.

A gust of wind blew past.

Far from the noisy music inside, Jasmine Yale felt much more comfortable; the outside was as quiet as ever.

Sylvan Cheney leaned against the wall, refusing to leave, mumbling, "Not going back... I want to drink..."

Jasmine Yale glanced at him coldly, standing in front of him and grabbing his hand: "If you don’t go back, you can just stand out here and let the cold wind blow you! I’m too lazy to care about you!"

"It’s cold."

"Are you leaving or not, Sylvan Cheney?" Jasmine Yale glared at him.

The dazed Sylvan Cheney drunkenly looked at her, staring at her for quite a while, as if he recognized her, yet didn’t seem to, his gaze wandering.

"You have long hair..." He raised his hand, rubbing her short hair.

"I cut it a few days ago, did you forget?"

"Why cut it, long hair looks nice, why cut..." Sylvan Cheney became stubborn, looking at her seriously.

"It’s inconvenient, I’m having a baby."

"Oh, you’re having a baby." Sylvan Cheney seemed a bit melancholy.

Another cold wind blew past, dry leaves on the ground rubbed against the ground, surrounding lights were dazzling.

Many cars were parked on the street outside the bar, and people kept walking back and forth.

Most passersby glanced at them with curious eyes as they approached, perhaps finding it amusing that a pregnant woman was with a drunkard.

Jasmine Yale grabbed hold of his hand, afraid he’d wander off if she wasn’t careful.

Seeing it was too cold outside, she adjusted his jacket and dressed him: "Put your clothes on properly."

Sylvan Cheney was relatively obedient, didn’t argue, just stared at her, focusing intently on her.

Jasmine Yale dressed him in his coat, buttoned up his shirt, and only then did she breathe a slight sigh of relief.

He reeked of smoke and alcohol, which Jasmine Yale really disliked.

"Drinking and acting crazy, no class at all." Jasmine Yale said lightly, "Luckily there were no acquaintances in the bar, if someone had seen you, wouldn’t you feel embarrassed?"

"Drank too much... didn’t do anything disgraceful."

"You can still argue?" Jasmine Yale looked at him angrily, "What are you arguing for? Isn’t smashing things embarrassing enough? In your mind, what counts as disgraceful? Not this time, so next time?"

Sylvan Cheney fell silent, stopped arguing.

Perhaps because he was drunk, his eyes carried a hazy intoxication, even his long eyelashes seemed dotted with faint innocence.

Jasmine Yale couldn’t stand his look, felt even wronged.

Just then a taxi came by, Jasmine Yale quickly waved it over.

Luckily, the drunk Sylvan Cheney wasn’t troublesome, he wasn’t aggressive nor did he make a scene, he just followed her everywhere, reverting to a childlike state.

She told him to get in the car, and he did.

The car was quite dark.

Though it was past ten at night, the streets were still bustling, Halloween wasn’t over yet!

The street was brightly lit, Jasmine Yale occasionally glanced out the window, sometimes taking care of Sylvan Cheney, afraid he might feel uncomfortable.

She had bottled water in her bag, but no medication, so she unscrewed the cap: "Can you drink water by yourself? If not, I’ll feed you."

Sylvan Cheney remained silent.

"Gone mute..." Jasmine Yale glanced at him, moved closer, and fed him the bottled water.

Sylvan Cheney truly became quiet, letting Jasmine Yale feed him water.

"Alright, stop drinking, you’ve drunk half the bottle." Jasmine Yale fed him a few sips, and he actually took it seriously, "If you feel unwell, tell me, just don’t throw up in the car."