Chapter 2745: Twenty Years Later, The World Turned Upside Down

The night Kieran Janus came looking for him, Sylvan Cheney had already figured it out; there was no retreat given to him by Kieran Janus.

If he insisted on disobedience, Kieran Janus would personally put him in prison and might even implicate those around him.

If he complied, he could take a step back to advance, setting up a trap, inviting the enemy into a snare.

It wasn’t a choice question; it was a compulsory answer.

Sylvan Cheney took another sip of tea.

People in the teahouse came and went, changing one batch after another, while Sylvan Cheney remained seated in the same spot, unmoving.

It’s the last time sitting in the teahouse drinking tea; the next time, perhaps twenty years later.

In twenty years, a little girl could grow into a young lady, it’s truly the transformation of the sea and land, half a lifetime.

The teapot was gradually emptied as he drank.

Sylvan Cheney did not ask for more and sat silently, his face utterly calm.

Fine sunlight fell on the table, outside the transparent glass window, urban scenes and the desolation of autumn mixed together. After autumn comes the depths of winter.

For a long time.

Sylvan Cheney finally stood up, grabbed the documents and car keys from the table, and drove toward the police station.

This road was the longest he had ever traveled; though the drive wasn’t far, he drove very slowly.

The streets of Old York didn’t bear many traces of him; this bustling city would eventually be left behind.

Twenty years later, everything changes dramatically.

Throughout the journey, he remained exceptionally calm, his heart beating evenly, like a still lake, bottomless and serene.

Sunlight shone on the car’s glass, refracting into a dreamlike, illusory display of colorful light as if it were ephemeral bubbles.

The thick stack of documents was tossed onto the passenger seat.

He had sorted out all his affairs in Old York, money deposited in the bank, which would handle it according to his wishes.

He had no worries, everything had been tidied up neatly.

Thinking of this, Sylvan Cheney’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, his composed gaze directed ahead, very serene.

Pedestrians came and went along the busy streets, vehicles flowing endlessly, electronic screens changed various images in the sunlight, ads playing one after another.

The city of Old York remained bustling as ever.

…

Late autumn red maples scattered, amid weather forecasts of cold wave warnings, the onset of early winter arrived.

The night’s frost was heavy; each morning when opening the window, a vast expanse of white frost flowers greeted the eyes, resembling a snowfall.

Temperatures plummeted; a coat was no longer enough to ward off the cold; it required a thick sweater or a woolen coat.

Especially in the morning, a scarf was needed to resist the sudden chill.

Winter, unforeseen.

Between heaven and earth, there weren’t many colors left; withered red maples and autumn chrysanthemums dropped, leaving only bare trunks and lackluster stones, bleak and cold.

Especially in the mountains.

The wind carried a chill penetrating to the bones, unshakeable.

The mountain birds seemed to begin hibernating, rarely seen flying; only endless mountains expanded, never-ending.

Jasmine Yale sat by the window writing in her journal—

“The first winter in Green Peak Village, unknowingly, it’s been several months since arriving here. A few days ago, I took photos of the children and anonymously sought assistance from society online. Today, many clothes and food arrived, the children’s winter won’t be feared anymore; grateful for the kind-hearted people. Today, the children were especially happy, unwilling to take off their new clothes.”