After taking care of An'an for nearly ten years, Bluepool encountered an unprecedentedly difficult problem.
The skies were still as sunny and clear, and it was cool and pleasant in the shade on the island. Curled up on the ground which was covered with soft silk, An'an would roll around from time to time, leaving bright red plum-shaped imprints on the pure white fabric.
Gazing at her, Bluepool's blue brows were furrowed so tightly a fly might be squashed between them.
"An'an, let me take another look at you."
An'an didn't repel him and took the initiative to move closer to him.
A hint of dejection appeared between Bluepool's brows.
Once again, he let out a long sigh.
"An'an, I think you're ill."
He pulled her into his arms. The female in his arms was clearly still a cub. Be it her exterior or interior, she didn't strike one as an adult.
How could such a young cub go into heat? She must have fallen ill, right?
