Mu Qingyi got to her first and caught one wrist gently but firmly. Hu Baiyu caught her other arm and held it close to his chest, his expression both worried and fiercely supportive.
Feng Yiren, still full of evil satisfaction and half-laughing inside, moved behind her and caught her by the waist before she could launch herself forward again.
Lin Huahua struggled.
Actually struggled.
Her ears were up, her tail was bristling, and her pale little face had gone pink from anger.
"Let me go!" she cried. "Let me beat him! He deserves it!"
Wei Ranshu, who had already been slapped twice, one by fish and one by hand, now looked like he had finally realized this was not romance.
This was disaster.
But Lin Huahua was not done.
Not even close.
She kept glaring at him over her males' arms and started spitting out every grievance that had built up in her chest.
