As soon as she heard Song Shuhang's words, Soft Feather's expression froze. She squatted down aggrievedly and poked her finger into the floor of the room, poking one hole at a time.
"Thuck, thuck, thuck~" In the blink of an eye, there were over a dozen holes of different depths in the floor—Song Shuhang lived on the second floor, and the floor here was wooden.
At this time, the semi-retired old tribal chief of the Dragon Blood Tribe, who had been idle all day, just so happened to enter the house. Seeing this scene, his heart felt very stifled—the attic where Mr. Shuhang was currently residing had just been completed, but it looked like the floor needed to be changed already.
Seeing the aggrieved Soft Feather, Song Shuhang was slightly taken aback.
To be honest, it was the first time he had seen Soft Feather look so defeated.
