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... s hand and gently caressed Jiang Xue’s smooth and tender little hand. That strength carried a lingering and intimate feeling. He was a little surprised that a poor girl who had lived in a poor family for eighteen years actually had a pair of soft and smooth hands.

Xiang Cheng’s hands began to move slowly down on Jiang Xue’s body. When he touched Jiang Xue’s thigh, he massaged it in an extremely lecherous manner. His slow and heavy breathing was exceptionally clear in this narrow and quie ...

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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.

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The glorious Empire had already been destroyed for one thousand years, the dying royal family suffered many problems, the legendary sacred battle had plenty of conspiracies, the divided world was in chaos.

But Thales had nothing.

The only thing he had left was an unswerving determination to preserve his own identity, bravery which would allow him to survive in a perilous situation, and a belief that he would never submit to principles he did not believe.

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