The Overlord of Blood and Iron (WN) - Chapter 7

The traitor Gu Mang returned to his home kingdom again. Everyone rejoiced in his banishment. It was said the one who hated him most was his closest friend – the cold and stoic Young Master Mo.

A rumour: Young Master Mo prepared three hundred and sixty-five methods of torture to try on Gu Mang, enough to play with him for a year without repetition.

But what’s the truth then?

Well the truth is even more unspeakable–

Mo Xi’s identity: the most abstinent commander of the empire.

His relationship with the traitor Gu Mang: they’d slept together before.

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The eldest daughter of the Li family is beautiful and sassy, ​​she took space materials to flee famine, and after going through many difficulties in war, disease and epidemic, she united with her family to regain the glory and harvested a beautiful boy.

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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?”

Shen Huai was abandoned by his artists, and took over one who no one was optimistic about net black newcomer Ye Cang.
Ye Cang caught fire all over the country. Everyone else thinks it’s Shen Huai tune. Only Shen Huai knows. His artist is a superstar reborn. Later, Shen Huai gathered again-“the legendary film queen of the period of the Republic of China,” the unsurpassed Golden supporting role in the History of the Republic of China, “the Queen of Love songs popular all over the country in the Last Century,” and “the greatest superstar in a hundred years.” he breathed a sigh of relief: I don’t have to go back and inherit tens of billions of dollars

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