Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1171: Rogue, You’re Playing the Rogue!

Chapter 1171: Chapter 1171: Rogue, You’re Playing the Rogue!

"Don’t pinch me, I didn’t say anything wrong, you’re just getting old," Jasmine Yale stared at his face, her fair little hand pointing towards the cabinet, "That there is the evidence. You know what evidence is, right?"

She was drunk, her cheeks flushed red.

Her alcohol tolerance had always been poor, and the effects of the alcohol she had just consumed were now hitting her full force.

Sylvan Cheney frowned and followed the direction of her hand.

It was then that he realized his bedroom was a total mess, just like after a burglar had been in.

His eyes moved to what she was pointing at.

The bedding that he had stored in the cabinet was now tossed out by her.

It had originally been bought to take care of her business, but now it had become the basis of her teasing him.

Jasmine Yale laughed, looking at him with a grin, "You’ve got nothing to say now, right? You’re old, or else why wouldn’t you use it up in a year. Old man, you’re no good, old man, you’re no good..."

Sylvan Cheney was truly infuriated.

"Whether I’m ’no good,’ don’t you know already? Huh?" Sylvan looked at her.

"Poor memory, useless, bad temper..." Jasmine Yale rattled off his faults as if she hadn’t heard him.

If he hadn’t been so out of the mood right now, he really would have liked to show her what "no good" meant.

Only Jasmine Yale dared to say to his face that he was no good.

"Poor memory, useless, bad temper..." She continued to pout and enumerate his shortcomings.

"Jasmine Yale, you really have some nerve," Sylvan chastised her helplessly. "If I bully you, you’ll end up crying later."

"You only know how to bully me, I’m easy to bully, huh. Just because I touched upon your sore spot..."

"Short or not, don’t you know?"

"Hooligan, you’re playing the hooligan! Shameless..." Jasmine Yale, feeling taken advantage of, punched his chest like a downpour, angry.

Her eyesight was blurry, but she could still see Sylvan clearly.

Her fists pounded on his chest, he let out a muffled grunt, frowning.

The wound on his chest hadn’t yet fully healed.

He caught her fists and pulled her into his embrace, his hands circling around her waist.

Jasmine Yale bumped into his sturdy chest and rubbed her little head, "Ouch."

"Ouch? Pain is how you learn your lesson," Sylvan rubbed her head a couple of times.

The drunken Jasmine Yale subconsciously did not reject him because his familiar scent was what she had once relied on the most.

She moved her little head, rubbing it on his sleepwear, like a sleepy kitten.

All she was missing was a couple of "meow meows" at him.

The way she rubbed against him was particularly amusing, Sylvan couldn’t help but lift the corners of his lips.

"Are you going to drink again next time? Do you dare to light up a cigarette?" Sylvan gave her behind a gentle smack.

"Shame on you," Jasmine shifted her body, "I’ll drink, I’ll light up."

"You never learn," It seemed Sylvan really had no way of dealing with her unless he was watching over her; he was bereft of any solution.

"I just never learn, does that make you angry? You should be angry, I’m angry, and you should be too, that makes us even."

She looked up at him with her eyes half-closed.

"Sylvan Cheney, did you know I’ve been really angry these past few days?"

"What did you call me?"

"Sylvan Cheney!" She raised her voice, grinding her teeth.

"Find another name," Drunk Jasmine Yale let Sylvan bully her.

"Cheney... Scoundrel? Cheney... Hooligan? Cheney... Master?"

"..."

Seeing his complexion change, Jasmine Yale giggled, "What do you like me to call you?"