The wolf cub is very small, looking like it has just passed its first month. It has a pair of moist eyes, pathetically gazing at Zhao Yao. Its snow-white body, slightly trembling in Zhao Yao's hands, looks miserably pitiful.
Zhao Yao was charmed by the poor, helpless, and weak wolf cub, held it in his arms, and soothingly patted its head.
The wolf cub obediently lay in Zhao Yao's arms, quickly losing its fear. It liked the scent on Zhao Yao, which smelled nice, felt comfortable, and was reassuring.
Zhao Yao squatted down, reaching out to pinch General Hu's right ear, speaking sternly, "Did you snatch this wolf cub or pick it up?"
"Picked up."
"Is it really picked up?" Zhao Yao was somewhat skeptical, "You didn't snatch it?"
General Hu felt wronged by Zhao Yao's suspicions: [Yao Yao, didn't you instruct us not to snatch other animals' cubs? How would we dare snatch a wolf cub? We really picked it up.]
