"Even Uncle Lin is not allowed. Wife, in the future, you must not accept gifts from other men," the man said domineeringly.
An Ran snatched the whistle, giving him a sideways glance. "You're just too much. Fine, I'll just hold it and not blow it anymore. It's Uncle Lin's kind gesture; I can't just throw it away. Besides, I really like this whistle."
"If you like it, your husband can make you one later. The thing I have most is bullet shells," Mu Xingfeng said, hugging her from behind.
"No need, one whistle is enough. If you want to give me a gift, make it something new," An Ran pondered and added, "Perhaps you can give me a gift on my birthday. Aunt Xia told me about my birthday."
An Ran had never truly celebrated her birthday from childhood to now. Today, Xia Yuzhu talked to her about her mother and the day she was born.
"Alright," Mu Xingfeng agreed readily, and he no longer argued about the whistle. He wanted to give his little wife a unique birthday gift.
