The sound of the trumpet eating lollipops became louder.
Han Bing was annoyed. little trumpet, can you stop eating? I feel like scratching the wall!"
The sound of sucking was too itchy.
"It's none of your business, so I'll eat!"
"I'll eat my food, you listen to you. If you don't want to listen, you can cover your ears. I'm not forcing you to listen."
I'm not stopping you from scratching the wall. If you don't feel pain, you can scratch the wall!
no one else is talking, and you're the only one talking about me. Do you think you're sick? "
As long as it wasn't fire, the small-muzzled weapon would be noisy at any time.
"Flame, my dear brother, make her shut up!"
Han Bing didn't expect that his one sentence would hit the muzzle and get so many words from the small-muzzled weapon.
Now, not only did he want to scratch the wall, but he also wanted to hit the wall.
