PREVIEW

... of engines and crisp gunshots, among which were mixed with countless "F" or "S" starting with "F" or "S". curses.

These battered pickups were loaded with dozens of hunters, armed with big-bore shotguns and rifles, standing on the back of the truck or leaning out of the open windows, firing at the car.

A lot of bullets hit the body of Daqie, but all of them were bounced off without exception, not even a little paint off!

The hunters are very fierce in combat. Although the ...

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Cen Qing transmigrated into a book, transmigrating into the villain who single-handedly created the zombie virus in the post-apocalyptic novel.

It’s not scary to dress up as a villain, what’s scary is that there is a villain who is more powerful than her.

Looking at Jiang Ci who was still dormant in the culture medium in front of him, Cen Qing recalled his own ending in the original book, his little heart trembled.

Did she kill him before he turned black and grew up, or pulled out his oxygen catheter now?

But Jiang Ci’s first sentence after waking up was, “Mom.”

Cen Qing was so frightened that the hand that pulled out the oxygen tube swished back, and since then began the daily routine of raising a baby/raising a man in the last days.

“Qingqing, blood is drawn on the hand, it needs to be healed to be healed.”

Cen Qing glanced at the wound where a drop of blood appeared, and ignored him.

“Qingqing, the zombies are Ah Ci’s good friends, can you stop beating their heads?”

Cen Qing glanced at the zombie with its bloody mouth open, and slammed the stick again.

“Qingqing, he pushed me on purpose. I don’t care at all that you stay in the same space as him.”

Cen Qing glanced at his stunned assistant and sighed.

Who did Jiang Ci learn the tea-in-tea phrase from?

But the day-to-day life of raising a baby suddenly changed his style of painting one day. The reason was that Cen Qing recruited another male assistant, the kind who looked soft and cute.

The man pushed her against the wall, his dark eyes filled with strong possessiveness, his voice was hoarse,

“Qingqing, you are not good, and a disobedient child should be locked up with chains.”

Cen Qing, who was trapped in the man’s hot embrace and could not move, burst into tears.

Is it too late for her to pull out the oxygen tube now? Waiting online, very urgent.

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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.”

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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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