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... s that it has made such a level of consumption. Basta He can still hold on, his Liuxin Wuhun seems to have a steady stream of power, and there is no sign of fading at all. How long has this been going on? And what kind of power can maintain such an equivalent?

Bang.

Busta, who is like a wolf god, landed on the Netherfire Fighter, the light on his body dissipated in an instant, and Busta's face lost all color. He opened his mouth and couldn't even breathe. His heart was beating like ...

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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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[You deal with the beehive, and I’ll restrain the enemy.] [Don’t make plans that make me the victim.]

We had those kinds of foolish conversations, all while being completely broke every day and fought against . Even when there were hurricanes, the weather-beaten duo sleep past it. Sometimes when we saved money at a casino, we would jump around on the beds at a resort hotel, only to be broke again the next day. We would walk through deserts, traverse through jungles, conquer mountains, cross oceans– The great detective and her assistant would go through these dazzling adventures–

Until she died.

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I’m the only one who’s left, but I carry on her remained wishes.

This story is far from over..