It was strange, but as Yang Fan comforted her, the agitated little white tiger gradually calmed down, but its small paws held onto his clothes tightly.,Yang Fan walked into the house with the white tiger cub in her arms. The cub snuggled in her embrace, its little head tilted up drowsily, its gaze fixed on her smooth jawline.,Although surprised by Yang Fan's careless brushwork, as her pen fell, Grandma Wu felt a shift in the other person's aura. The runes she painted faintly shimmered with gold.。