"What do you mean, āhmmā?" Jane Sampson was startled by James Blackās sudden grunt.
"Regarding your decision to become an actor, I can compromise," James Black said, "But there are certain things you need to be clear about."
"Compromise?" Jane Sampson was distinctly surprised by this term.
James Black chose to compromise?
He agreed?
Was this his well-considered answer just now?
"Listen carefully, I have my limits," James Black tapped on the tea table with his finger, signaling Jane, who seemed lost in thought, to listen carefully. "I wonāt repeat these words a second time, so remember them."
"You go first." Jane Sampsonās gaze fell on the back of Jamesās hand, which bore a scar that hadnāt been there last time in City C. So, had he gotten it while on a mission this time?
"Kissing scenes, they must use position substitution, and donāt let me see another man kissing you," Jamesās voice was cold and stern, and with that, he even snorted, "Bed scenes, use a stand-in, donāt let me see another man on top of you. Also, my bottom line regarding your dress is that anything from the shoulders down to the knees should be covered. Donāt let me see you in a frontless, backless show, no ultra-short skirts. If you can do this, my compromise is valid. If not, then youāll obediently return home and continue with whatever you used to do to pass the time."
Jane Sampson shifted to the side, just about to suggest that perhaps they should consider divorce since, sometimes, when it came to filming, it really wasnāt up to her. But before she could speak, James gave her such a look that she couldnāt utter a word.
"Donāt think that divorce can solve this issue, ha," James expressed sharply, "You wish."
Jane Sampson scratched her head and uttered an "oh." Was she so obviously distressed?
"Do you think youāll be free as a bird once weāre divorced, that you can do whatever you want? With just one call, I can ban you, as easy as flipping my hand," Jamesās words were a threat. "So better remove the word ādivorceā from your dictionary early on. I donāt like the way you resort to divorce to solve issues."
Jane Sampson tapped her fingers on the sofa, pondered for a moment, and then nodded, "I agree."
Seeing Jane Sampson agree, the oppressive aura around James Black seemed to dissipate a bit, and his facial expression visibly softened.
"Then weāll leave the matter at that," James withdrew his hand from the tea table and placed it on Janeās face, his voice tinged with displeasure, "Move closer to me, I wonāt bite."
Jane Sampson reluctantly scooted over, and after half a day, she had only moved two inches. James, apparently unable to stand it any longer, went straight to her and sat down next to her until their thighs were touching.
"Your face..." James turned Janeās face toward him, his voice involuntarily laced with severity, "Who hit you?"
James had noticed the moment Jane came in, even though she had covered it up with makeup, the palm print was still very obvious.
"Who else could it be?" Jane turned her face away, dodging Jamesās hand, "Itās not a big deal."
"Your dad?" James could only think of this person. He let out a cold chuckle, then picked up his mobile phone from the tabletop and dialed Father Samptonās number right in front of Jane.
At home, Father Sampton, who was still fuming with rage, nearly dropped his phone when he saw the call from James Black.
"Hello, James Black," Father Sampton worriedly pondered whether James was calling to discuss divorcing Jane.