Comrade: Almost a Cat-astrophic Love Story - Chapter 220 - The World’s Cutest Mini Top Party!

I, Lin Yun, with my exceptional aptitude, had thought that I would be trained as a key disciple, however...“The Demon Sect will never expect us to send such an excellent disciple undercover. Once you attain a high position within the Demon Sect, with our help both from within and without, why would we worry about the Demon Sect's destruction?”Three years later.“The Righteous Path will never expect us to send such a promising disciple undercover. Once you attain a high position within the Righteous Path, with our help both from within and without, why would we worry about the Righteous Path's destruction?”Lin Yun: I just want to quietly cultivate to immortality...

Sometimes, as we go about with our lives, we all happen to think of one specific thought at least once.

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?”

As a salted fish, Yun Su, who never pays in games and always relies on prostitutes to fight Shenhao players, wrote down his 20th birthday wish on a notebook with trembling hands: immortality.

When I woke up, my dream came true, but I almost cried. Is the world of cultivation so cold?

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