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... utside at home, I look at you, and no one takes the initiative to take this responsibility.

   Seeing such a result, Yang Yong couldn't blame these treasure hunters. These people are the pillars of the family. If he is really killed by bombing, although there is a high pension given by the Yang family, what is the use of so much money when people are gone. Everyone has some scruples, and it is understandable that no one dares to take the responsibility of being the first to enter the cave ...

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Gazing at the Starbucks café at the airports had become a ritual for her. A desperate attempt as she hoped against hope to see him again, probably get one more chance to kiss him again.

Looking at the store all lost, she walked ahead, but stumbled and bumped against someone.

The cup of coffee that he had in his hand spilled all over just like the first time when she had met him.

“Jesus Christ”, he muttered.

The moment she heard the voice she looked up and saw his face. It was the same face that had promised to stay next to her, till death did them apart.

Tears flooded her eyes and she could barely speak, “I knew you would come back for me Raymond”. She raised herself on her toes in an attempt to kiss him, but he blocked her lips with his palm.

“Whoa, whoa, Miss !!! I guess you have mistaken me for someone else.”

“What are you saying, Raymond? It's me, your Akira. The love of your life, your fiancée,” she said and stretched her hand showing the ring on her finger.

He stared at the ring for quite some time and then looked at her face apologetically and said,

“Miss please, I am already a married man.”

And then he silently walked away.

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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.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

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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