MTL - Pastoral Honey Pet: Farmer’s Hot Little Lady - Chapter 979 I can't deserve it!

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

Jin Rou wanted to be a cultivator who defied the heavens, and surpassed all limits.

Unfortunately for him, he died, and now I’m stuck here. Arrogant young masters? Heavenly tribulations? Cultivating for days on end, then getting into life or death battles?

Yeah, no thanks. I’m getting out of here.

In which a transmigrator decides that the only winning move is not to play.

Li Chengfeng, a scientific research genius of the 21st century, traveled through the Tang Dynasty and turned into Li Shimin’s six-year-old son?

  In the god-given god-level bear boy system, Li Chengfeng grabbed Li Shimin’s beard and started mad at Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui, but there was nothing they could do about it.

  Li Chengfeng used his genius scientific knowledge to solve natural disasters by diverting water from the south to the north, and the hybrid rice developed by him can produce 2,000 catties per mu.

After destroying the Turks and subduing Goguryeo, Li Chengfeng was conferred the title of God King of the Tang Dynasty at the age of six.

It can be said that Mo Chou has no confidant in the future, who in the world does not know the king?

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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?”