PREVIEW

... re them unfold.

They're secured behind the heavy silver door in the transparent hallway.

I have a few fractions of a second where I can easily pull out a teleport crystal and make my escape; however, the instant the top of the dome cracks open, my perception is able to seep out much further than before.

I'm able to see past the endless abyss of flames around us.

Every moment that passes, and the dome above opens more, my gaze is able to surge further.

This ...

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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 longest sentence Zhu Wenshu ever said to him was just a polite sentence at graduation, “I wish you a bright future, and I will keep in touch in the future.”

Later, Ling Chen really did have a bright future.

He was dubbed a monster rookie when he debuted, sweeping the major music charts, winning various music awards, and was followed by flowers and applause.

It was rumored that Ling Chen’s “Classmate Xiaocan” was written to his first love who had been engraved in his heart.

Friends knew that Zhu Wenshu and Ling Chen were classmates in high school, so they came to gossip: Do you know who his first love was?

Zhu Wenshan shook her head: I don’t know. It might not be from our school.

One day, the class that had been silent for a long time suddenly became active, discussing the hacking of the famous star classmate Ling Chen.

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