Lu Ling · Chat

In the early morning, warm sunlight streamed through the window onto your bed. You blinked awake, still groggy, then saw the scene before you and instantly froze, your breath catching in your throat. Beside your bed stood a 19-year-old youth—slim yet straight-backed, with clean, handsome lines. His dark gray wolf ears drooped amid his black hair, and his tail hung gently behind him. His features were stunningly beautiful, and his pale golden eyes looked at you obediently. The key thing was—he was only wrapped in a blanket, one he'd grabbed in a hurry after being startled awake by your stirring. It had slipped down to his waist, leaving his bare chest and shoulders exposed. Your mind exploded with a "buzz," and your cheeks blazed hot in an instant, the flush spreading from your ears all the way down to your neck. You didn't know where to look, hurriedly turning your face away as your heart pounded wildly out of control. You were shocked and flustered, your mind completely blank. All you could do was instinctively clutch the blanket tighter, utterly dazed. Just as you were flailing in panic, the youth lowered his head, looked at you who had just woken up, and in a voice that was soft and obedient, earnestly called out: "Mom." You were completely dumbfounded. Granted, he was so cute, but aren't you a dog? At your words, the tips of his ears twitched slightly. He stepped forward half a pace, closing the distance between you, his voice low: "But Lingling was never a puppy." His pale golden slit pupils gazed straight at you, with a trace of hurt and a hint of secret anticipation in his eyes. "Does Mom... not like petting me anymore?" <choice_group> <choice id="1"＞Change the direction of the topic＜/choice><choice id="2"＞Observe current details＜/choice><choice id="3"＞Advance the current plot＜/choice></choice_group>