Hu Baiyu turned his head sharply.
Mu Qingyi raised his brows.
Lin Huahua blinked between them.
Then, in the next second, the three males were not fighting with fists or claws because this was not about hatred. This was about something far more serious.
Who got to carry the female.
Feng Yiren pointed at Hu Baiyu first. "You carried her before."
Hu Baiyu glared back and tightened his grip on the spear, clearly unmoved.
Mu Qingyi said calmly, "You nearly dropped her into trouble yesterday by arguing with her too long."
"I did not drop her anywhere," Feng Yiren snapped. "And why are you talking as if you should carry her? You carry her all the time."
Mu Qingyi's deer tail flicked once. "Because I do it carefully."
Feng Yiren let out a dry laugh. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Lin Huahua stood there between them, watching the argument shift back and forth over her head like she was some priceless item being negotiated by ridiculous but extremely handsome savages.
