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... iang Xing had to resolve the matter of their meals by themselves. Jiang Xing could eat in the school cafeteria; he was actually more worried about Lin Qingyu. Lin Qingyu said, “Don’t worry, I won’t treat myself badly.”

Having been living in modern times for some time, Lin Qingyu now has a clear understanding of Jiang Xing’s family background. Jiang Xing wasn’t a boyfriend who needed him to save money. Since they might return to the Dayu, what Jiang Xing needed was a boyfriend who would h ...

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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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Video game streamer Jing Yu, momentarily misstepped, and found himself in a strange professional gaming team.

Solo laner: Even if I have my eyes closed, asleep, dreaming, I can still kill you all!

Mid laner: Retreat? Not going to happen. Even if I only have one drop of blood left, I’m going to kill you all!

Marksman: Attack range advantage? I like to battle close-range! If you aren’t a coward then don’t run, let me kill you all!

Support: Support? As if! Wait until I switch to an AD build, then I’m going to kill you all!

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Jing Yu: All of you, retreat! I’ll be the one to kill them!

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