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... or a tumultuous fate, are frequently accompanied by calamities.

But once the Tribulation Qi has dissipated, even if they encounter danger, it is far from the Death Tribulation; naturally, they can turn disaster into fortune, and danger into safety.

In other words, today is not Chu Zheng’s death day.

“Are you a Qi Cultivator?”

A flicker of confusion passed through Gong Jun’s eyes. The Ancestral Dao of the Great Universe was familiar to him, but he had indeed never ...

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Version 1:

Jiang Mianmian time traveled.

Her father had an insidious scholar’s face but a sinister heart.

Her mother had a merciful bodhisattva’s face but a vicious mind.

Her elder brother looked honest but was evil inside.

Her second sister was selfish and foul-mouthed.

They were destined to be villains from birth, to contrast the protagonist’s righteousness, kindness and greatness. They did all kinds of bad things, were covered in filth, fell into an abyss, and came to no good end.

Jiang Mianmian – With the magical spring in hand, weak and timid, she could only let her family live a bit longer…

Version 2:

In her previous life, Mianmian’s family died out early.

In this life:

She married the most popular duke.

She became sworn sisters with the rebel leader.

Ungrateful and unfilial.

Disloyal and unrighteous.

No integrity.

But they all lived, with the family intact.

Version 3

Reader’s summary: Father is Medusa, mother is polar bear, brother is evil wolf, sister is coyote, heroine is panda, moving mountains and overwhelming the world, only selling cuteness.

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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.”

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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?”