PREVIEW

... ned out that Xiao Qinghan had woken up at some point, pale hands struggled to grasp her clothes, weakly uttering three words: "Don’t hurt her."

As these words fell, her hand also drooped powerlessly and lay softly on the ground. Gazing at Fusheng close by, with bloodshot eyes and a ravaged face, tears rolled down, and her lips quivered, calling out the name Fusheng, with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

Fusheng’s heart clenched: "Han’er."

She reverted back to her dashing and ...

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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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On the screen, the Film Emperor Meng Yan was extremely handsome and charming. Towards the camera, his gaze was overflowing with gentle and tender feelings. He raised up the hand that was holding hands with captivatingly beautiful bride. She was wearing a diamond-beaded wedding dress. At the bottom of the TV screen, the headline news was displayed in large font – Meng Yan and the rising starlet’s wedding of the century.

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