Chapter 32: Into the Wolf's Den?
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“Go to the meeting.” Shi Ran was frantic with worry when the reply arrived.
At first, she thought she had read it wrong. She stared intently at the response from Zuo Yelin, her disappointment deepening by the moment.
Was Zuo Yelin preparing to give up on her?
Even though what lay between them had not yet been made public, it could only be leaked sooner or later.
Clearly, Zuo Yelin could have dealt with the matter with ease.
...
You Fushi lowered his long lashes, casting a shadow over his high, smooth nose. He scooped up a spoonful of soup and drank it slowly without saying a word.
Beyond the screen, all the off-site viewers, including Su Siyu and Lu Jianguo, were just like the fans at the venue.
“I can’t give you any promises, nor any future.” Her fingertips slid downward until they reached his chest.
At the same time, Song Yufei was in Song Houde’s office, discussing the sponsorship of the variety show with him.
The fact that she had survived until now was entirely due to her exceptionally healthy constitution. Otherwise, an ordinary severe fever would have been enough to let her die quietly in bed.
Ding Shengtai smiled faintly, unable to conceal the pride on his face. “I was entrusted with this matter, so naturally I had to carry it out. That is only my duty. Teacher Hua, you flatter me. But to be honest, I never expected the response to be this overwhelming. I have criticized A-list celebrities before, but frankly, none of those occasions compares with this one.”
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After Chen Haohao finished speaking, Chen Ping’an rebuked him without mercy. Seeing this, Wang Xinhan protected Chen Haohao with a deeply concerned expression.
A familiar presence approached from behind. The instant the radiance of the spell reached her, a sword intent came crashing down and shattered the light in an instant.
Toliver had originally thought that he and Helen Jaeger would be inconvenienced by appearing in public, lest people with ulterior motives grow suspicious. But Leon said there was no need to worry.
The ancestors of the Thousand Mechanisms Sect cursed inwardly, yet none of them could bring themselves to lose face. They could hardly let a young disciple surpass them, so they lowered their heads and charged forward.
On New Year’s Eve, she had been drunk to the point of collapsing like a puddle of mud, alternating between terror and agony. Was that drunken outburst not humiliating enough already?
Back then, Shen Qinghong, chief escort of the three great escort agencies—Mighty Far, Pacifying Far, and Tranquil Far—along both banks of the Yellow River, had relied on an unknown family martial art, training and refining it through years of effort. In the end, he earned the reputation of “flowers flying across the heavens, touching the ground without a sound.” In the martial world, he could be considered a master somewhere between the second and first rank.
The driver had initially worried that the old man was deliberately throwing himself against the car to extort him, and had even taken out his phone to record everything. Unexpectedly, the old man had no intention of blackmailing him at all.
Yet every painting related to her father was burned by the Marquis of Yongchang in the courtyard, right before her eyes.
The lion-dance troupe, the dragon-dance troupe, the gong players, the drummers—one group followed another.
When Jiang Qingyue saw him, she greeted him with exceptional enthusiasm. Without giving him a chance to refuse, she grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him into the sesame-cake shop.
Awakening from her dream, Xin Wei recalled that the last time she had seen Qin Gu was just before leaving Gusu for Jinling.
This was a planet where transcendence and technology coexisted, and a world fraught with danger, connected to multiple planes inhabited by other races.
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Before the opportunity to kill Allen arrived, no matter how badly Hu Abiao wanted him dead, he could only endure it.
Lin Ruo sat on Sikong Jing’s lap, her lotus-like arms looped around his neck, her head resting against his shoulder.
Lin Xun needed a little time to examine his own spiritual consciousness, and then find an opportunity to inspect Wangxing’s soul.
When Ruo Wangchen requested permission to travel to Thousand Leaf Isle, the elders and abbot of the Bodhi Holy Land who knew the truth had already understood that Wangchen was not going there to attend the ceremony, but to meet that one person.
At the same time, on the street, five unfamiliar faces to the Sacred Realm sat by the roadside in disheveled clothes.
Ye Bufan sighed inwardly. As an ordinary mortal, he feared he could only live out this life in the ordinary way.
After all, he had gone to great lengths to infiltrate the Blood Demons. He could not afford to waste such an excellent opportunity.
The wood was surprisingly heavy in his hand, but one end looked as though it had been gnawed by a rat. He lifted it and gave it a light sniff.
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