Gu Ximan’s eyelashes fluttered like startled butterfly wings.
Their noses were almost touching—she could see her own reflection in Gu Luo’s pupils.
Those usually smiling eyes were now filled with shock and barely concealed joy. The lips beneath her fingertips trembled slightly, like sun-warmed glass.
A breeze carried dandelion fluff from nowhere, brushing past the watch on Gu Luo’s wrist. The ticking of the second hand was unnervingly loud in the silence.
“Xiao Man...” Gu Luo’s voice came muffled through his palm, rough and broken.
Gu Ximan could see the shadows cast by his long lashes on his cheeks. Then, unexpectedly, he curled his hand, pressing the back of it against her lips.
Time froze into amber.
She caught the scent of soap lingering on his fingers, mingled with the warmth of sunlit school fabric and something indescribably, uniquely Gu Luo.
Her widened eyes glazed over with moisture again, and the hand braced against his chest unconsciously tightened around his collar.
This kiss, separated by his palm, wasn’t soft—it was almost reckless.
Yet it sent a jolt through her entire body, leaving the cold tea-brown-haired girl breathless and thoughtless, aware only of the heat and pulse of the boy’s lips against her skin.
Gu Luo’s kiss slid from her hand to her wrist, his fingertips still guarding her lips as if she were delicate porcelain.
His gaze was clearer than ever.
Staring into Gu Ximan’s watery eyes, he suddenly chuckled low, the sound carrying a sigh of relief:
“I can’t even kiss you properly without a barrier...”
He paused, exhaling softly before continuing:
“Xiao Man, I honestly don’t know how to face your feelings—your romantic feelings. I can sense them, but... I’m sorry, I can’t give you an answer yet.”
“But if you’re willing, I’ll start treating you as a girl my age, someone in the throes of adolescence. Once I’ve resolved things with Shu Ning and Shu He, I’ll give you a proper response.”
“The truth is... I’ve been drowning in self-deception, indecisive and hesitant about love. In the end, I hurt not just myself but all of you.”
“After these past few days of reflection, I’ve realized something: hesitation has no place in matters of the heart. You must say what you feel. The moment you hold back or fail to communicate, misunderstandings arise, driving people who love each other apart.”
“I don’t want any more regrets or pain. I’m even prepared to have my legs broken or be disowned.”
“That’s my answer.”
Every word was sincere.
Shu Ning’s actions—throwing away the letter, saying cruel things, getting into another boy’s car—had cut deep.
It wounded others, but it also wounded herself.
This was a calculated move, a scheme aimed at her own heart.
Luo Shuning’s approach was simple, childish, extreme. No matter the justification, such things were unforgivable.
Two people who loved each other ended up inflicting the deepest wounds.
How laughable.
How ironic.
Love was too complicated, like a potion that could transform you into someone entirely different the moment you drank it.
Hearing this, Gu Ximan suddenly seized his wrist, forcefully pulling his hand away from their lips.
The afternoon wind caught her hair,
brushing against Gu Luo’s cheek.
Her next move carried the desperation of someone burning their bridges.
Sunlight streamed through the rooftop railing, weaving golden patterns over their intertwined shadows.
The distant clamor of Guangya Academy’s students faded into background noise, leaving only the warmth between their lips
and the heartbeat that had waited far too long to be shared.
Gu Luo stiffened like the iron railing, forgetting even to breathe.
An eternity passed.
Just as his fingertips unconsciously curled, nearly grazing her waist, a sharp pain bloomed on his lip.
The metallic tang of blood spread between them.
Gu Ximan stood on shaky legs, stepping back with lips stained a vivid red, like a maple leaf on snow.
“Sort things out with Ning-jie and He-jie first...”
Her voice trembled as she nervously twisted the lace trim of her pleated skirt. “I... I’m just collecting interest!”
With that, she plopped back down, turning her face away as her small hands fluttered frantically before her burning cheeks.
Her uniform sleeve slipped, revealing a slender wrist glowing pearl-white in the sunlight.
The wind lifted her hair again, cold tea-brown strands skimming Gu Luo’s hand, leaving behind a faint, lingering itch.
............
............
rowess are unmatched, commanding a million-strong army! Yet, the Emperor wants to depose him for the sake of a false prince? Hold on, are you throwing me into some female-oriented romance plot? How can I tolerate this? With a grand wave of his hand—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! Slander the Emperor? Very well, all of you shall die! ... The False Prince: "Although I am not the biological son, Father and Mother love me more. The throne should be mine!" The Female Lead: "Qin Xiao, you are the Emperor, and I am a commoner. If you wish to marry me, you must abdicate. Otherwise, you will never have me!" The Empress: "After we divorce, you must give me half the empire!" The Transmigrator Consort: "You worthless Emperor, why should I kneel to you? All men are equal—I advise you to be kind!" The Great General: "The enemy general is my childhood sweetheart. For her sake, I willingly abandon the frontier defenses!" The Retired Emperor: "Although Yu'er was adopted, I prefer him. Qin Xiao, you should abdicate and let him become Emperor!" ... Very well! So this is how you want to play? Facing this twisted world of female-oriented tropes, Qin Xiao grins and raises his hand to unleash—the Nine Clan Extraction Technique! I am the Emperor. Why would I bother reasoning with you? Seal the gates! Leave none alive!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
Cheng's father told him he was getting remarried—to a wealthy woman. Cao Cheng realized his time had finally come: he was about to become a second-generation rich kid. Sure, it might be a watered-down version, but hey, at least he'd have status now, right? The wealthy woman also had four daughters!! Which meant, starting today, Cao Cheng gained four stunning older sisters?? But that wasn't even the whole story... "My name is Cao Cheng—'Cheng' as in 'honest, smooth-talking gentleman'!"
