Why not, tinker with his alarm clock settings?
Jane Sampson thought this plan was feasible.
Jas Black was in the bathroom, so his phone was most likely on the bedhead cabinet.
Jane Sampson imdiately sprinted toward the bedroom and, sure enough, saw Jas Black’s black mobile phone on the bedhead cabinet, her eyes gleaming like a hungry wolf.
As the request for a password flashed on the bright mobile phone screen, Jane recalled what Jas had ntioned in the car this afternoon and entered the numbers with a hint of disbelief.
Password correct!
Unlock successful, the screen stayed on the main page, leaving Jane Sampson slack-jawed.
Did he really use that number?
Did he actually use those six numbers, so full of significance, as his mobile phone unlock password?
The key question was, why would he set a password only to tell her what it was for?
To bet on her not having the guts to try it again?
Indeed, hmph, he underestimated her.
Jane Sampson went straight to the alarm clock, feeling rather clever for having thought of such a shrewd move, changing his alarm ti so he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow morning.
However, when she opened the alarm clock feature, Jane Sampson was taken aback.
Jas Black’s alarm clock had never been used.
From the mont he bought the phone until now, the alarm clock feature was probably one of the few untouched territories on his phone.
Jane Sampson bit her teeth in frustration and angrily threw Jas Black’s phone onto the soft pillow, "This is driving mad!"
People who’ve spent years in the guard team develop their own super abnormal biological clock, waking up automatically around 5:30 every morning without fail!
This was infuriating!
Jane Sampson lay face down on the quilt, once again experiencing what it was like to be slapped in the face by the despair in the air.
When Jas Black erged from the bathroom, he discovered that Jane Sampson had moved from the sofa in the living room to beco a ’corpse’ sprawled on the bed, with her legs suspended off the edge of the bed, kicking them a couple of tis.
"Go take a bath," Jas Black walked over, picked her up from the bed, and mockingly added, "Pretending to be dead seems a bit premature at this hour."
Jane Sampson was on the verge of tears, her little hand tugging at Jas Black’s sleeve, feigning a sob, "Jas Black, you’re just not nice anymore."
Jas Black carried her to the bathroom before he went to fetch a change of clothes, a bath towel, pajamas, and even her underpants.
Jane Sampson, seeing the small piece of clothing on top of the stack in Jas Black’s hand, dropped the act, bared her teeth, snatched them away, and blurted out an insult, "Old rascal!"
She slamd the clothes onto the shelf and was about to push the still stationary Jas Black, staring at him, "Why are you still here? What, want to watch take a bath?"
Jas Black, after seriously considering for a few seconds, nodded, "That wouldn’t be a problem."
Jane Sampson stood there, her face slowly turning red.
Since when did Jas Black start to play the rogue so seriously?
"Get out of here, you old rascal!" Jane Sampson yelled, about to jump with rage, her face as red as a boiled shrimp.
Jas Black let out a light chuckle and turned to walk away.
However, after taking a few steps, he stopped and turned back.
"Jane Sampson," he said, using her na and surna included to address the person glaring at him, "Let’s be reasonable; a rogue is a rogue, a pervert is a pervert, why add the word ’old’? Your adjective doesn’t fit."
Jane Sampson’s little chest heaved with anger. She smiled, slowly raised her left hand to point towards the doorway of the bathroom, then said with a smile, "Hurry up, get out."
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