Lun Chuan's words sounded downright condescending.
Qin Yun swung the empty bucket noisily: "I might not be as strong as you, who works out every day, but I'm still a man. Can't you be a bit more objective with your words?"
The empty bucket was a leftover paint bucket from when the house was being built, lined up along with several others at home, handy for any needs, and now perfect for carrying yellow mud.
Walking through the mountain woods, the three complained as they swung the bucket together, the clanging metal echoing loudly. Lun Chuan's smile turned subtle:
"You guys don't think I'm being unbiased, or do you?"
Just from running 10km they'd be panting like hot dogs. How heavy was a bucket of yellow mud? How would the rugged downhill path be managed? Perhaps no one had a clue!
Qiaoqiao led the way, and seeing Brother Lun Chuan being doubted, he shouted loudly: "I can carry two buckets!"
