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How Young Master Quan Pursues His Wife

This is a hot-blooded story. This is a story of growth. # Mo Shangjun, after an extraordinary encounter with a cunning fox, was as beautiful as a vase. Rumor had it, she was capricious, crafty, a living rogue! Ya Tianxing, the mysterious captain of the Ace Special Warfare, was as handsome as a devil. Rumor had it, he was callous, brutal, a living tyrant! In reality— Both were high-level "appearance supremacists"! The day they met, she was hanging onto Ace's shoulder with a hooligan’s flair, yet her words were earnestly persuasive, "If you want me, it's not impossible, but first, you've got to pay with your charm!" "Deal!" The gavel came down. Thus, the emotional journey of the old fox and the young rogue began amidst a different type of fervor. # This is the story of two fiends, and when fiends clash head-on, if they want to avoid a life-or-death struggle, then the only option is to enjoy a thorough feast! This is also a story of youthful ardor, with blood and tears. When the youth facing no regrets meets an increasingly powerful nation, what reason do we have not to be passionately stirred? # We love our country, so we have no regrets drenching our past weaknesses with sweat; We love our country, so we selflessly guard the lives of strangers with our blood. ——Mo Shangjun # [The Chapter of Passion] "Relying on oneself is too exhausting. Having a belief makes life a bit easier." ——What is your belief? ——You.

Fruit Store's Bottle · Urban
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716 Chs

011, I'll treat you to a barbecue [Late Night]_1

Ya Tianxing said one thing that made Mo Shangjun stay.

Though the others were puzzled, they didn't ask any questions on the spot and discreetly left.

Once everyone was gone, Mo Shangjun thought for a moment, then sat back down in the chair, leaned against the backrest, and raised her eyebrows as she looked at Ya Tianxing.

"What's up?"

Mo Shangjun asked bluntly.

"Sit here."

Opening the notebook on the desk again, Ya Tianxing pointed to the spot where Ji Ruonan had sat before.

The pen twirled rapidly between his fingers, and after a moment of hesitation, Mo Shangjun finally sat down on the chair to the left.

"Got a problem with me?"

Turning to the page about himself, Ya Tianxing lifted his finger and rhythmically tapped on that page.

Mo Shangjun involuntarily looked at his fingers.

The movement was slow, with the forefinger and middle finger slightly curved, gently tapping on the paper, each finger long and beautiful, set against the soft light, a sight for sore eyes.