"Not yet. Just a little longer."
Just as Ling Hong was about to sneak a grab, An Jin, quick as a flash, yanked a large leaf back over the stone bowl. She shot him a reproachful look. "If you scald the fur right off your paws, don't you dare blame me."
Ling Hong was speechless.
After spending a few days with him, An Jin had finally figured him out.
On the outside, this wolf Ling Hong was the picture of cold aloofness—as stern and unapproachable as a hardened soldier. In reality, he was reserved, painfully blunt, and had a one-track mind. His inner self was the complete opposite of his exterior.
Ling Hong sat beside her, his large frame held perfectly straight. He watched the young female's every move with rapt attention, not even blinking, like a star student hanging on a teacher's every word.
