Wu Zhenghao looked carefully at the white tiger in Yang Fan's arms. The more he looked, the more he felt it was like... a real tiger.,The little white tiger stared blankly at Yang Fan, thinking to himself, "This human is actually quite good.",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.。