The Flower Dances and the Wind Sings - Chapter 8

After quitting the national team, Qi Yue devoted herself to agronomy.

At a certain party, someone was booing, and whoever lost the shooting game would be kissed by Qi Yue.

Looking at Qi Yue, who was planting potatoes with a hoe with a sloppy face and a muddy face, in the experimental field, the big guy’s face turned green.

Everyone scrambled to target the bullseye for fear of being punished.

In the end, Gu Huai, the big male god of A, raised his hand and missed the target and shot a 0 ring.

When they met for the second time, Gu Huai was crushed by malicious provocations in the fencing hall.

Qi Yue couldn’t stand it any longer and was forced to take action.

When we met for the third time, Gu Huai was homeless on the side of the road.

In order to help him, Qi Yue spent three months of living expenses.

After many years.

Qi Yue looked at the world shooting record certificate, fencing championship trophy and dozens of property certificates with Gu Huai’s name written on it, and fell into contemplation: “…”

- Description from novelbuddy

The summer I was 17. A painting I created was sold. For 1.4 billion won.

A normal high school boy with nothing much happening in his life except for...life. Every new day was the same as the one before but he doesn't really care much about it. He thought of himself as a normal high school-going boy with no clear future. Lazy, sarcastic, but kind of intelligent, he was living a normal life.Though fate had different plans for him as he met a girl who he did and did not know. The school princess was the first thing he saw when he woke up in his bed caressing his head. To any other boy in his situation, it would be pure bliss but he was worried.Why?Since she was in his house which he had locked before going to sleep. Little did he know that the girl was more than what she showed and was about to turn his entire life upside down. How will he tackle this situation? No one knows that.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.