Peasant Woman’s Decreed Life as a Wife - Chapter 1220 - 1217 Worry

She was an unprecedented assassin, a trump card deadly agent, but transmigrated through into Ye City’s number one prodigious good-for-nothing young miss. I am an ugly woman? I will break out from my cocoon into a gorgeous butterfly that will blind your snobbish eyes! I am useless piece of heap? Lightning in my hands, I will smite you to a well-cooked crisp!Her greed and lust for money had no end. She is lewd to the core with no bottom in sight, sworn to have love fortunes blossom all around her. However, a certain someone holding a blade in the left hand and a sword in the right hand began cutting those love fortunes one by one! The person smiled with perked brows, “Little Ninth, it looks like I have to let you become occupied!”

In a world where survival depends on victory in an alien battlefield, warriors are assigned a crucial keyword that determines their fate.With attributes that rapidly grow when aligned with their keyword, they gain superhuman abilities.But if their persona collapses, they weaken. In this apocalyptic-like world, acting skills are paramount.Acting is sustenance, glory, privilege, and life. Join the battle and discover the true meaning of bravery, cunning, righteousness, and more.

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?”

Traveling through the world of Detective Conan, Chi Feichi was sent to the hospital.

Tuesday.

Doctor: “What day is tomorrow?”

Chi Feichi: “Wednesday.”

Doctor: “Cough, tomorrow is Friday.”

Chi Feichi: “…”

August 21.

Doctor: “What day will it be tomorrow?”

Chi Feichi: “August 22nd.”

Doctor: “Cough, tomorrow is January 1st.”

Chi Feichi: “…”

When everyone thinks that the chaotic time is correct, and one of them cannot correctly identify and integrate into it, then this person is an outlier, a patient!

Once admitted to the hospital, it is as deep as the sea, and it is impossible to recover in this life.

Chi Feichi took a deep breath: “Old! Son! No! Do it!”

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