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... p>

Fan Linong listened to this answer, searched his brain and found no impression of it, then he asked, again with a darkened face, “Where is he from?”

“He’s from Wuchang Prefecture, my lord’s family is in, in trade…” Yuanbao explained, shaking not only in his words but also trembling all over.

The ground, just covered with snow, was cold and chilling, and as he sat on it, he could hardly bear it.

Fan Linong frowned slightly, bent down, and lifted Yuanbao by the collar ...

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“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.”

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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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