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... y?”

“Previously, I felt that if you were unable to ask Mo Mo out, you would give up quickly, so why should I waste the effort?” Ming Yeqing explained. “But now I see that you are trying hard and are persevering. It would not be very gracious of me if I didn’t help you.”

Upperclassman Cheng exclaimed, “See, it is still possible to move someone by trying hard. I could move you into helping me ask out Tan Mo, and perhaps I could move Tan Mo into accepting my courtship.”

Ming ...

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A petite and frail woman came to Donggong, and Chumei in Donggong didn’t take this abandoned woman seriously at first.

Who would have thought that she would occasionally feel the cold today, and she would be ill tomorrow, attracting His Royal Highness to take care of her day and night.

She took care of her, and took care of people on the couch, so angry that Zhongmei called her a shameless white lotus.

As the party concerned, Qin Zhao said: My ex-husband greened me, I turned around and hooked up with the prince of the dynasty, and robbed the prospective man of the third child. The first marriage is higher than the first marriage, is there any problem?

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The crown prince Xiao Ce had few desires for half his life until he met Qin Zhao.

He thought Qin Zhao was pitiful and would not be able to live without him, so he let her live in the East Palace temporarily, day and night to keep her pampered.

Later, when he ascended the throne, every time he saw Qin Zhao’s ex-husband’s face, he would torture Qin Zhao’s soul every night: “Is my body still satisfactory to Zhaozhao?”

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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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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?”

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