Jasmine Yale guessed, he might have too much money lately, or he's just addicted to sending red envelopes.
"It's already ten o'clock, I'm pregnant and can't overwork, and I need to go home later. If you don't mind, I can help you with these tasks tomorrow," Jasmine Yale said calmly. "Also, you have subordinates, an assistant, and a fiancée, so don't ask me to deliver meals anymore."
"You shouldn't drink alcohol at work. Can you really work clearly after drinking? Also, the recent incident with your stomach bleeding from drinking, haven't you forgotten that?"
"Take care no matter when, you only have one life."
Jasmine Yale looked at him and poured out a lot of heartfelt words.
Sylvan Cheney kept his head down, unwrapping a bag. He took out the lunch box, relieved to find it contained food he liked.
"President Cheney, are you even listening to me?"
"..."
"You're too much, too infuriating!" Jasmine Yale was truly aggravated by him; he was both childish and excessive.
