"Scared? Of course, I’m scared! I’ll probably be scared for the rest of my life!" Jane Sampson said as she held her forehead, "You have no idea how scary he can be when he gets mad! He’s like a walking high-voltage power line, making that fierce, stern face when he scolds people—it’s super frightening."
"He’s scary because you often irritate him," Rock Bell couldn’t stop laughing. "I heard you were quite sothing today, climbing up a tree like the Monkey King of Sampton."
"Why would you know about that?" Jane Sampson was shocked.
"Peter Gingery posted on Monts, and the picture was of you climbing a tree, along with the caption, ’My ho’s Monkey King Jane.’" Rock Bell ca to Jane Sampson specifically for this matter. "Although it’s important to capture attention, you went a bit too far. There’s no need to jeopardize your safety for a show, as long as you don’t co off as pretentious or insincere."
Rock Bell didn’t dare suggest Jane Sampson to take her work to heart anymore. A female artist who didn’t mind climbing a tree to make an impression was likely one of a few in the circle who would go to such lengths.
So, Rock Bell had only one request for Jane Sampson now, "Your safety cos first."
"I understand, Sister Tin," Jane Sampson responded obediently.
"Okay, let’s talk about other matters after you finish your current engagents. I have three scripts for you to choose from, and they all look pretty good," Rock Bell smiled. "However, we can wait a bit longer, and see how things go after Brother Taylor’s drama is broadcast."
"I’ll follow Sister Tin’s advice." Since Rock Bell was a famously tough agent in the circle, naturally, Jane Sampson trusted her capabilities.
After hanging up the phone, the first thing Jane Sampson did was to check Peter Gingery’s Monts on WhatsApp, but as it turned out, she didn’t find the post Sister Tin ntioned.
Which ant, fearing that she would see it, Peter Gingery had blocked her from that particular post.
Really...
If you don’t beat them every three days, they’ll climb on the roof and rip off the tiles! Peter Gingery, you’re dead at! — Princess Egg-Yolk.
After sending a ssage to Peter Gingery, Jane Sampson exited WhatsApp and went to the living room. Jas Black had finished drying his hair and was now tidying up the wild fruits she had left on the tea table, putting them into the fridge.
Jane Sampson stood to the side, giggling sheepishly, as if it were a common occurrence for her to leave things half-done and Jas Black to finish up for her.
"Go take a bath, your clothes are in the wardrobe," Jas Black said after putting away the stuff. He guided Jane into the bedroom, then retrieved a set of pajamas and personal clothing from an inconspicuous cabinet and handed them to her. "There’s a clean bath towel prepared for you in the bathroom."
"Got it, got it," Jane Sampson said while eyeing the pajamas in Jas Black’s hand. She scratched the back of her head and muttered, "When did you turn into my personal guard team, anyway?"
Obviously, Jas Black wasn’t going to answer her. He just glanced at her and remained silent.
Jane Sampson pouted and went into the bathroom. She spent more than half an hour there before finally coming out, her forehead drenched with wet hair, looking just like a water ghost who had just erged from the water.
"Co here." Jas Black pulled a chair closer. After Jane Sampson sat down, he started the hairdryer and began to blow-dry her hair, saying, "We have plenty of ti. Later, go to the study and write a self-criticism report."
The leg crossing that was vibrating stopped abruptly, cald for a few seconds, and then continued to shake.
Jas Black snorted, "Don’t pretend you can’t hear . The noise of the hairdryer doesn’t have the power to make you deaf."
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