Speed Is King - Chapter 382 I already can

”When I tell you to proceed with Plan A, you can’t just ignore it and go with Plan B,” said the king.

”Sure”, she replied; she’ll just go to Plan C then! No biggie.

”If you were told to go eastwards, you can’t just ignore me and go in the opposite way,” the king added on.

”Yes,” she said while nodding. If she can’t go in the opposite way, North and south work fine too.

”You are NOT allowed to have affair with any other men!” the king then emphasized.

”Sure”. She replied. She never has to be the one having affair with the others. Others have it with her.

- Description from Novelupdates

The youngest, silly fourteenth son of the Yan Emperor had reached the age where he should be given a separated territory now. He rejected the wealthy land, neighbouring the capital city, and instead chose the wildest land in the western region— Liangcheng. Everyone shook their heads and sighed. A fool is indeed a fool. If you go to Liangcheng, you will be killed by barbarians in less than three to five years.

One year later, the watermelon presented to the Emperor as the tribute from Liangcheng in the west was sweet and crispy. There was no one in the palace who did not love it.

Two years later, Liangcheng presented corn as a tribute to the Emperor. The yield was high, and the taste was good. No one in the country could resist liking it.

Three years later, Liangcheng defeated the barbarians and presented their prisoners in front of the imperial court. The people of Yan were excited and their morale was greatly boosted.

Four years later… Everyone said that the fourteenth prince Mingyu was a fool, while the little fatty Yu, who transmigrated with the golden finger, chuckled. Let’s see how you guys look at this fool build his own territory, then.

- Description from Novelupdates

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?”

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates