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... he school’s tyrant, he had also even become one of the people in society who swaggered all over the place and didn’t go to class. Later, his parents were worried that he would cause more problems, so they straightforwardly sent him to the army.


Even though Zhang Zihai was a rebel, he had felt that being a soldier was very cool so he cheerfully went. It was only later that he found out that being a soldier was in fact very, very hard…


Some soldiers di ...

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In the post-apocalyptic age, men were damned.

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Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”

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When crossing over to multiple books, Ren Shuhan found that every protagonist Shou was waiting for him to start chasing them in the crematorium.

“Don’t waste your time waiting,” He advised sincerely, “There are more 0s than 1s, so I’m not going to chase someone that is not interested.”

The protagonist Shou (sneering): Oh, there will be a day where you’ll lick the ground I walk on.

After waiting and waiting…

Ren Shuhan: “This is the wedding invitation for my childhood friend and I’s wedding.”

On the wedding night, Ren Shuhan removed the veil: “Baby, I’ve come to marry you.”

“Don’t you know that life is nothing but a play where you are the male lead and I am just a supporting character?”

“I know, but I don’t care.”

He was smiling, but Jiang Qingyue wept.

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