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.
