The Sickly Scion's Petite Wife Is Sweet And Cool - Chapter 30 - Pounce

Upon transmigrating, she immediately faces a disastrous flood, and then has to deal with a marriage swap to an old man who is both slovenly and hunchbacked?Someone: My wife, truly majestic and dominant!PS: This story includes a space with a bit of fantasy, and there's only the heroine who is reborn through transmigration.

“Gege, what does cultivating feelings mean?? Is kissing when you eat someone’s mouth?? How are children born??” The 3-year-old Xiao Tu likes to chase after her ChangZhi gege and ask questions…

Ten years old Cheng Zhiyan had always seemed been studious and hardworking. However, when he heard these three questions, he was stunned and fled in an instant… until one day, a certain thirteen-year-old Xiao Tu pressed Cheng Zhiyan to the wall and kissed him. Then she smacked her lips to savor the taste and said: “It turns out that when you kiss orange juice, it really taste like orange juice ah…” the always calm and indifferent Cheng ZhiYan, once again fled in defeat.

**TN: ChengZhi Yan’s name sounds like orange juice

- Description from Novelupdates

“Wait, someone might see.” Charlton said, recalling the glass window.

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?