Wen Qian was exhausted; her home felt like a Beast Fighting Arena.
The Little Fox sat haughtily on the sofa.
Li Jiu was perched on the head of the swan centerpiece, pecking at the grapes on it.
Chi Heng was nestled on the balcony with his eyes closed, enjoying the breeze.
Yin Zhi impartially detested every other beastman in the house.
Just then, the doorbell rang…
Gu Mian stood outside, quietly looking at Yin Zhi.
After a moment, he walked past the young man and went straight to Wen Qian.
He handed her a milk tea, offering a faint smile.
The milk tea was sweet, but Wen Qian felt a sense of powerlessness, like an eighty-year-old who had hauled sixty buckets of water under eight scorching suns to water vegetables at the edge of the village, only to realize after she was done that it was someone else's garden.
Because at that moment… the Little Fox's gaze grew even more reproachful.
He leaned down to her ear and repeated the question, "Exactly how many beastmen do you have?"
