"Queen Sampton, could you also grace your humble servant with a skewer of chicken wings?" Benjamin Worthington and Hibiscus Wood quickly ran up in front of Jane Sampson.
Charlie Peterson and Hugo Edwards quickly ran behind Jane Sampson, ready to pass her stuff like assistants, and teased, "Your Majesty, isn’t feeding the prisoners at a bit extravagant? How about we just bestow upon them the vegetables we don’t want to eat?"
Upon hearing this, Benjamin Worthington picked up the corn he had not yet grilled and was about to hit Charlie Peterson with it.
"Queen! Damn, the prisoners are rebelling!" Charlie Peterson jumped back to dodge.
After ssing around for a while, Hugo and a few others called over the first team, including team mbers who participated together, and they all ca in to join the barbecue. For those who had been hungry all day, this evening al was so filling that their stomachs were about to burst.
When the barbecue was over, it was already past nine o’clock. Jane Sampson was about to head back to the dormitory with everyone when Peter Gingery gave her a sign. Understanding his gesture, she made the excuse of having eaten too much and needing to take a walk before returning. She then parted ways with the filming crew’s personnel. "What’s up?" Jane Sampson walked towards Peter Gingery when no one was around, "Just now, your eyes were almost blinking deford."
"So, have you handled my brother?" Peter Gingery was a bit curious, "How did you manage that?"
"I’m so cute and charming, how could Jas Black stay mad at ?" Jane Sampson huffed, lifting her chin in arrogance.
"Cut it out. My brother is not swayed by toughness or seduction. Beauty tricks don’t work on him. Plus, I doubt he makes any distinction between beautiful and not beautiful in won, let alone what ’cute’ ans." Peter Gingery snorted, "To him, there are only two types: irrelevant won and family."
"Exposing like that, what, am I shaless?" Jane Sampson lifted her hand and punched Peter Gingery’s shoulder.
"It couldn’t have been that he made you write a 500-word self-criticism report, could it?" Peter Gingery stroked his chin, thought for a mont, and nodded, "I think that’s very likely."
"..." Jane Sampson touched the tip of her nose and in a tiny voice, then slowly raised a thumb, saying, "1,000 words."
Peter Gingery was taken aback, then burst into laughter, "Okay, 1,000 words. It seems he was really pissed."
Seeing Jane Sampson roll her eyes, Peter Gingery gave her a reminder, "Don’t think about hastily scribbling sothing just to get through it. My brother has strict requirents for self-criticism reports. First, if the handwriting isn’t neat, he won’t read a word and will make you rewrite it. If the handwriting is neat but the content has even one sentence that’s insincere or not profound enough, he’ll have you rewrite it, got it?"
"So, I really should have just let him stay angry, right?" Jane Sampson slowly looked up at the sky, "Better to let him die of anger than to torture to death, right?"
At first, she was thinking of writing the sentence, "Jas Black, I’m sorry, I was wrong," filling up one thousand words, and then turning it in.
It seed, that plan wouldn’t work.
If she really wrote that, what might await her could be ten thousand words.
"Speaking of which, I heard you’ve been eating wild fruits all day and had barbecue this evening. I’m worried you might have a stomachache when you go back, so here’s so stomach dicine I got from the doctor, just in case." Peter Gingery took out a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to Jane Sampson, "If you really feel uncomfortable, take four at a ti. It’s made of Chinese herbal ingredients, quite mild."
"Okay." Jane Sampson accepted it and put it in her pocket, then took out a peach from her pocket and placed it in Peter Gingery’s palm, "Fair exchange."
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