Noon, the hotel restaurant.
"What's wrong with you?" The Performer stared strangely at the black cloth stuffed in Jiang Lu's mouth.
"Mmm mmm mmm." Jiang Lu hummed unintelligibly while gesturing with his hands.
With a calm expression, Sickle slid a cup of tea across the table, "Why don't you write it out?"
Jiang Lu then dipped his finger in water and wrote a few words on the table—
I'm doing a silence training.
After finishing, a wave of sorrow washed over Jiang Lu.
If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't control his blabbering mouth, fearful of a slip-up, why would he have resorted to such a tactic?
Luckily, the cloth in his mouth was the pantyhose that Hong Yi had just stepped through. If it had been any other fabric, he didn't know if he could have endured.
"What's gotten into you?" The Performer chuckled, "Although your mouth doesn't utter much good, it is time for you to learn to keep it shut. But you don't have to train during meals, right?"
