Chapter 812: Chapter 812: Give It to Another Girl

Charles Mcintosh continued, “It’s my first time buying a dress, I don’t know much about it. If the size isn’t right, tell me and I’ll go buy another one.”

His deep, magnetic voice filled the entire hospital ward as it spread through the air.

His entire body was in pain, and every word he spoke required a great deal of effort.

Lilac Serval, however, responded with a cold, indifferent laugh.

“Just saying it casually, how could this white dress suit me? Brother Mcintosh should give it to some other girl, don’t waste it,” Lilac Serval hung up the phone mercilessly.

The white dress truly no longer suited her.

She was no longer young, nor was she innocent.

“Didn’t you used to love white dresses?” Charles Mcintosh chuckled softly.

“The Lilac Serval you see now isn’t the Lilac Serval you knew. The present me smokes and drinks. Did the past me do that?” she scoffed, “Actually, I like the current Lilac Serval much more, much freer than before.”

“Little Lilac…”

“Shut up,” she glared at him coldly.

Charles Mcintosh: “…”

Talking took effort from Charles Mcintosh; the bandages burst and blood seeped out, with large beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

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He winced in pain and dared not move recklessly anymore.

But as the blood trickled down his arm, he looked helplessly and blankly towards Lilac Serval.

“Little Lilac, help me deal with my wound.”

“Little Lilac, call a nurse for me.”

“Little Lilac…”

“It’d be better if you died.”

Lilac Serval paid no attention and quickly packed up her tablet into her bag.

Without looking back, she left.

Charles Mcintosh: “…”

Charles Mcintosh’s face was full of grievances, his eyes dim with a helpless sheen.

…

At one in the morning, the rain poured down heavily.

It was pitch black all around, not even the outline of a hand was visible.

The dense raindrops fell from the woods, hitting the thick leaves and creating a “pit-a-pat” sound.

The mud was thick and slippery, with dried leaves and dark soil covering the ground.

Beams of flashlight light hit the ground, casting glowing lights in the dark woods.

With the cold wind and spraying rain, water splashed everywhere!

The crowd stood in the rain, searching everywhere for Yolanda Fern and Jasmine Yale.

All around was silent; everyone was silent, occasionally murmuring amongst themselves.

Sylvan Cheney was still in the black suit he wore that afternoon, its thin fabric offering no protection against the cold of the night.

However, he felt nothing, not even the cold.

His shoes were covered in mud, and his normally pristine suit pants were also splashed with mud.

His hands and neck bore several scratches, streaked with blood.

In the dark, he was like King Shura, grim-faced, profoundly solemn.

Jasmine Yale had not yet been found.

Lilac Serval sent him one suspicious location after another, and he searched each one.

“Mr. Cheney, you should go back and rest, we can handle it here,” a bodyguard said.

Sylvan Cheney remained silent, how could he possibly leave Jasmine Yale alone in the dark night.

She was afraid of the dark after all.

“Keep searching,” he commanded coldly.

“Yes, Mr. Cheney.”

Someone held an umbrella over Sylvan Cheney, but his hair and clothes were still mostly wet, clinging coldly to his body.

“Jasy, come back…” he gazed blankly into the pitch-dark distance, his eyes lifeless.

Jasmine Yale, can you hear me coming back?

As long as you come back, I will agree to anything.

Sylvan Cheney closed his tired eyes, his eyelids heavy with fatigue.

His fists clenched tight, he could not step forward.

He had searched all afternoon and all night, and he had yet to see a trace of her.

The rain streamed down his forehead.