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... vering beneath a thin cloth blanket in the cramped, rattling cart of our caravan. The screams outside tore through the night like jagged shards of glass. My mother. My father. The mercenaries we'd hired for protection. Even the workers who had laughed just hours before. One by one, they fell to the bandits' blades.

I clamped my hands over my ears, pressing as hard as I could, but it was useless. The cries and the clash of steel drowned everything else. My heart pounded so loud I thought ...

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Quan Zhisui didn’t understand why Wei Shixu was always getting beaten up by people from other schools, and why she constantly had to rush in to save him from danger. Later she found out that those people were just hired thugs.

They were paid by Wei Shixu.

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Wei Shixu smiled cheekily, “Fine, then don’t come to me for tutoring anymore. Fail the exam and repeat the grade, then let your scumbag dad and stepmom control you.”

Quan Zhisui had to compromise, “Let’s cooperate until the college entrance exam is over, but don’t go looking for trouble when there’s none.”

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Quan Zhisui: “I don’t date in high school.”

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The Prince Regent of the Zong Dynasty, Lin Bozhou, looked noble and benevolent on the outside but disgustingly filthy on the inside.

This traitorous minister, whom everyone had condemned.

One day, Meng Huan, who just transmigrated into a book, arrived into the bedroom in a sedan chair after he was forcefully sold as a male concubine to the Prince Regent.

How to keep himself safe in the face of this treacherous minister? Meng Huan was prepared to act like the original host, that was, being an aloof and cold man who would rather die than obey the Prince Regent. He would despise this man, while showing off his intelligence and wisdom, and occasionally, engaged in a game of wits with the Prince Regent.

Only this way would the Prince Regent love and respect him.

He could also be like the original host, winning the man’s favor but choosing to ignore it, making his escape in style, and forcing the calm Prince Regent glow in red anger.

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Meng—Low IQ— Huan: What were the crafty plots and machinations?

Meng—Low IQ—Huan: What were the words the original host used to scold the man?

Meng—Low IQ—Huan: Oh no, I am finished, I am done for. I am toast QAQ

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The beauty looked to be racking his brain as if his life depended on it.

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Lin Bozhou: “…?”

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