It hurts a little.

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Jiang Zeyu’s assistant always felt the urge to scoff or even laugh whenever he saw people claiming the two of them were a contractual couple, married in name only, constantly putting on a show. Could such genuine atmosphere really be faked? These two were more lovey-dovey than any lovestruck couple.

During the shoot, Qu Wan followed behind them. Even just standing there, she could feel the weight of countless gazes upon her. Jiang Zeyu’s performances had always been nuanced and delicate. He wasn’t a classically trained actor; he was pure talent. Any role handed to him, he could bring to life. He had crafted one unforgettable character after another, and these roles, in turn, had made him who he was.

Despite the snow over these past two days, they still had to push ahead with filming.

Suddenly, the once oppressive room erupted into chaos. Fortunately, the villa’s soundproofing was top-notch. Otherwise, Liu Yanbo’s pig-like screams would certainly have brought Aunt Huang and Lin Xue, who lived downstairs, running.

Thus appeared the sight of him wearing floral boxer shorts with slippers dangling from his feet, his upper body clad in a suit jacket.

To Yun Nuo, praise or criticism made little difference—they were never good news. Their words only served as reminders: she’d been cast aside, abandoned by a man.

The burly man who’d been knocked to the ground quickly sprang up, grabbing a shovel, ready for a fight. The other men, momentarily stunned, dropped their rice bowls and closed in.

“Now, I can enter the city, right?” Nie Li loosened his grip, and the soldier collapsed, gasping for breath. He hadn’t seen what Nie Li held, but he had seen the terror, fear, and even a glimmer of respect in the officer’s final expression.

Zhou Zhihui, of course, had heard the story of Jiang Yongrui giving up his family’s inheritance for Wen Lian. Still, she didn’t believe for a moment it was love conquering all.

Lin Qianqian’s sneakers were high-tops, but by now the mud had swallowed her feet up to her ankles.

Because my grandfather’s matter was so serious, Grandpa Yuan couldn’t step forward himself. He could, however, protect me, so I had nothing to worry about.

She had never really figured out how to use the three favors she’d been granted. They weren’t much use to her, and she’d only taken them because her group insisted. Once they’d vented enough anger, she’d leave and never return. The three favors would mean nothing then.

“Three years. No less. And we have to cough up something extra!” The call connected, and Sun Yipeng wasted no time relaying the outcome of the conversation he’d just had with the lawyer in the private room.

Hua Xiaoyun had just finished listening to her subordinate’s report. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Jian Hao’s reaction wasn’t ideal, but now wasn’t the time for conflict. The engagement banquet was about to begin, and Hua Xiaoyun wasn’t the type to ruin her own event.

But she was still a step too late. Jiang Yi’s foot came down hard, crushing the serpent’s head with a sickening smack, its brains oozing out. Jiang Yi’s expression was icy cold, like a battle god of the underworld—one wrong word, and he would cut you down.

“Water attribute!” When the old man announced the fourth attribute, his voice quivered.

Hmph! It’s not that easy to escape. All the cultivators over a hundred years old blocked the man’s path.

The third son of the Zeng family landed a punch square on the third prince’s chest, sending him flying back, spitting blood, and crashing against the wall. He fell to the ground, clutching his chest and groaning in pain.

The two onstage fought for some time, and in the end, the one named Hong Yuxin came out on top, though he himself was left panting and exhausted. Whether he was just playing dumb or hiding his strength was anyone’s guess.

A violet flame blazed in his palm, and the temperature around him plummeted as if reaching a critical point.

Her taut nerves suddenly slackened, and she gradually lost consciousness. When she awoke, she found herself lying in a hospital bed.

“Damn you! Smiling Tiger, if you’ve got the guts, come down here and face me man to man! Shooting from the shadows—what kind of hero is that?” Amid a hail of arrows, the second-in-command of the bandit stronghold, Smiling Tiger, had quietly slipped up the watchtower, a longbow in hand. The arrows fired at the third brother had come from this very bow.