Chapter 62: Dying for Love

"Knowing that I go crazy, you'd better behave."
Qu Bainan's voice was deep and hoarse. He leaned over to fasten Chen Su's seatbelt, then walked around the front of the car, got into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
Chen Su sat in the passenger seat, unable to recover her wits for a long time.
It wasn't until the car stopped at the pier that Qu Bainan opened her door and dragged her out.
Docked at the pier was a nearly luxurious...
Zhou Xinyi and Xinlian also knew why Gao Fei was cultivating with such madness, so they told Li Xiang and the others that no one was allowed to disturb Gao Fei's cultivation this month. Consequently, Gao Fei spent the entire month of his annual leave in absolute quiet. He cultivated in the practice room by day, in the villa by night, and even in his sleep.
The events of those years were far in the past, but none of the people present were anything less than ancient monsters who had lived for thousands of years; naturally, they understood the truth of that matter completely.
If he hadn't wanted to steal and seize my father's body, my soul wouldn't have inexplicably left my body in a dream to save him. Save him I did, for he is my biological father.
Instantly, I grew nervous again. I wondered if that look of hurt would reappear in Qing Nian's eyes when I stood side by side with Yifan to face him.
Cai Zixiong had one hundred family members, brothers, elders, and sect disciples depending on him; how could he dare to act recklessly? Even if he didn't care about his own life, he had to consider the others.
It was precisely for this reason that Chen Tianfang made up his mind to beg to become Zhao Yu's lackey. Furthermore, for the sake of safety, Chen Tianji had already blinded the heavenly divination himself, ensuring that everything happening here would remain unseen by those in the upper realms.
"If Qingqiu City couldn't keep a grip on you, would they be posting notices everywhere? Since even Qingqiu City couldn't hold you, your strength is plain for all to see," Hanhun said, picking up a piece of osmanthus cake and leaning forward to offer it to Cheng Yu's lips with a charming smile.
Watching the anger levels of this group continuously rise, Chen Xin looked utterly innocent. He clearly hadn't done anything, so why did they seem increasingly furious?
"Is that so? Let's put it this way, we're even now." Moley didn't promise that he wouldn't continue attacking Blalock.
Ever since the young lady broke ties with her family to marry Jiang Zhirong, Old Master Luo and Madam Luo had forbidden him from going to the martial arts school to practice martial arts.
After introducing the main gun turret, which had undergone the most significant changes, Engineer Ivankov stepped forward, and with a gesture of his right arm, the additional armor welded to the three turrets and hull at the front of the tank became unmistakably prominent.
One thing was certain: Lady Yun was definitely Old Master Jiang the Second's capable assistant at this point—adroit and tactful, sending sweetness right to people's doors, capable of saying words sweet enough to melt into one's heart, while embodying utter selflessness as the clan matriarch.
After several breaths, Luo Dishan looked into the stove and saw the fire starter lying motionless inside, without a single spark to be found.
The three horsemen held an absolute numerical advantage, and among them were mounted archers for ranged attack, heavily armored cavalry for defense, and lance cavalry for close-combat charges.
The two of them plunged into the earth in this affectionate embrace, crashing through goodness knows how many innocent trees along the way.
He had to earn more money to establish a research center and partner with large hospitals to conduct joint research before he could produce corresponding results.
At this moment, even those who had previously held hostility toward Luo Fengqing laid aside their past hatreds; after all, the enemy of an enemy is a friend, isn't that so?
As the rope tightened, Xiang Zixi gently tossed the red flower from her mouth toward the stage and, facing the audience, retreated rapidly backward, vanishing in an instant, leaving behind only a flash of red.
As I stared blankly at the wardrobe, the bedroom door was pushed open, and the iceberg man appeared in the doorway wearing a light gray casual outfit, holding a cup of hot milk that must have just been warmed, with curling wisps of heat rising from the milky-white liquid.
"What? He's not dead?" I asked in surprise. I had clearly seen his soul at the scene, so how could he not be dead? In matters like this, my constitution simply could not be wrong.