Volume One, Chapter 79: I’m Going to Make a Scene

At a high-end cocktail party, the guests were all members of the upper echelon, renowned figures from various circles. Yan Qiuning had obtained an invitation from Qin Zhan and arrived in a flurry of excitement. Because his position was so official, it wasn’t appropriate for him to take part in such matters personally. Of course, Yang Qian accompanied her.

The moment the two appeared, the reporters’ cameras all turned toward them. The guests present also shifted their attention to Yan Qiuning. What was the emperor thinking? Wasn’t this deliberately making things difficult for him? Knowing full well that he and Tang Ning didn’t get along, yet bestowing the much-coveted Rong Xuan’s hand in marriage to Tang Ning?

Yan couldn’t help but become inwardly cautious; such an experienced old devil must not fall into his trap. It had been years since the Divine Lord appeared; today, he had finally returned. Wasn’t that a grand cause for celebration?

When Kong Yingda learned there was such a large piece of rhinoceros horn incense available, he nearly died of excitement, for the Ministry of Rites’ remaining supply was soon to be depleted. Qiao Yu, with his wealth of experience, easily surpassed the younger competitors; his gliding skills were truly exceptional, unmatched by any other.

A piercing scream echoed throughout the military camp; the soldiers who were trapped had their metal-covered limbs instantly crushed. In the temple, there were plenty of helping hands—soon, the medicinal powder was kneaded with honey, while on the other side, Yao Bei dried the medicinal base over a gentle fire, ground it into powder, and mixed it with lotus root flour for the child to drink.

The terrifying aspect of the fire poison illness lay in its slow progression—patients could endure for years before all their organs failed. Yet it was extremely difficult to cure; sufferers often died after prolonged agony. These two challenges were where Sean White excelled, but even more frightening was his airborne height; as with figure skating, the higher the leap, the greater the prowess.

When the two pushed open the door and entered, the room was already bustling with familiar faces: Tang Yizhe and Gao Xinxin, the married couple; Ah Yao; and several others who had dined together previously. In the stadium, a man witnessed the situation and cast a glance at someone in the spectator stands, who immediately understood and left the arena.

After the medicine was applied and the bandages wrapped, the physician gave instructions about what to watch for and how often to change the dressing before departing. Sometimes, they would rather accommodate Xu Fang than Xu Yong, unexpectedly causing their relationship to be less close.

“Child, is there no space left on the sofa? Stop fooling around and sit properly over there,” Mother Shen glanced at her son, who was clinging to Jiang Xiangyang.

It differed a bit from what he saw that night, but not much—after all, breakthroughs in cultivation were quite normal.

The little one leaned against Fu Yingjue, blinking as she listened to a conversation she couldn’t understand.

Pei Qingyu showed no tolerance for them. She reached out and grabbed the man’s finger pointed at her, jabbed him with an elbow, then delivered a swift kick, knocking him flat to the ground.

“I’ll do it!” Jiang Kexin dashed out of the bedroom, bubbling with excitement.

By then, the other party would surely take action, no longer shrinking back like before—only then might it be possible to discover his true identity.

This soreness and swelling were familiar; every time she spent the night with her fourth uncle, she’d wake with this feeling the next morning.

“Officer, did your kang bed invent a hot milk function?” Still in her robe, Ye Youyang laughed heartily, face full of drowsiness.

“Mr. Louis, this is Tang Xin,” Gu Xingyun realized what he was doing and pulled Tang Xin behind him, away from his touch.

Bathed in sunlight, her cheeks were vivid as a delicate blossom; yet when the call connected, her voice was cold, lacking warmth.

“Why haven’t I seen your father’s people? Do you know where he’s gone?” Lian Xinying asked, puzzled.

Apart from a tie clip, the wallet now held a photo of mother and child in the photo sleeve. It was the picture she’d taken with her child when she thought she’d be sentenced; he’d secretly chosen one, had it developed, and placed it in his wallet to cherish, keeping it closest to his heart each day, imagining it as their constant companionship.