Chapter 1123: Chapter 1123: This blood… is Sylvan Cheney’s Chapter 1123: Chapter 1123: This blood… is Sylvan Cheney’s It took Jasmine Yale a long time to get up from the ground.

She leaned against the wall and turned on the light.

As the light came on, she was momentarily blinded by the brightness after the darkness and shielded her eyes with her hands.

When her eyes slowly adjusted, she gingerly opened them.

To her shock, as soon as her eyes opened!

There was blood on the back of her hand and on her clothes?!

Jasmine was terrified!

Yes, it was blood.

Bright red blood!

She had been fine when she got back, so how did these bloodstains appear?

Jasmine suddenly realized that the blood… belonged to Sylvan Cheney.

She glanced at the floor; there was no blood there, so could it be that she had touched his wound while struggling?

She hadn’t turned on the light earlier and hadn’t even seen Sylvan’s expression clearly, let alone his wounds.

But the blood was indeed on her hands and scarf.

Jasmine rushed to the door, swung it open with one hand, and ran towards the elevator!

“Sylvan Cheney!” she called out.

No one responded.

The nighttime apartment complex was quiet and peaceful, not a sound to be heard.

Jasmine took the elevator down from the eighth floor to the ground level.

The wind outside howled, highlighting the enormous day-to-night temperature difference in Cakago’s winter.

Jasmine walked to the open space downstairs, looking around in confusion; there was no sign of Sylvan Cheney!

Even here, there was no sign of anyone having passed by, it was too late.

“Sylvan Cheney!” she called out again.

Still, there was no answer.

Jasmine chased out from the entrance of the complex, the wind tousling her disheveled hair, her shadow elongated by the streetlights, lonely and solitary.

She chased for a long while and still couldn’t see that familiar figure.

Jasmine stood still, looking around blankly.

All around, there was no one.

She rubbed her temples. He was dead drunk; he can’t have come alone, she didn’t need to worry, really.

But when she looked down and saw the bloodstains on her hand again, she was still scared out of her wits.

The blood had dried, but under the streetlights, it was still bright red.

Jasmine’s heartbeat skipped, the rhythm off.

How could he be hurt?

Why would he drink after getting injured? Why take a 12-hour flight to Cakago?

A chill wind blew over, and Jasmine hugged her arms, shivering with cold.

Suddenly, a chill gripped her heart.

She hugged her arms and walked back slowly.

Her hair was whipped by the wind until she re-entered the eighth-floor apartment, her expression still somewhat dazed and confused.

She looked at the bloodstains on her hand, her brow furrowed in fright.

Any normal person would be scared at the sight of blood, let alone when their fists were covered in it.

She was almost certain it was the blood leftover from when she had hit his chest earlier.

A chill ran down Jasmine’s spine.

So much blood, was he really throwing his life away?

Jasmine stood against the wall for a long time, unable to snap back to reality.

Sweet Kitty scratched the wall anxiously on the side, what was wrong with Jasy? Why wasn’t she playing with it?

Jasmine closed her eyes, a look of indifferent fatigue in her eyes.

After a while–
She walked to the bathroom and washed the bloodstains off her hands.

The white sink stained with red was shocking to behold.

He was seriously hurt.

But in the darkness, he never let her turn on the light, and she hadn’t even seen his face clearly.

With his usual work and travel schedule, even with many enemies, how could he be so easily hurt?

Jasmine couldn’t make sense of it.

Her mind was still stuck in the blankness of ten minutes ago.

She washed her hands in a daze, the sound of running water “whooshing” loudly, unsettlingly clear in the silent apartment.