When did I start to have feelings for him?

Qu Wan stayed by his side, using an alcohol swab to cool his feverish arms and hands. It was only as dawn broke that the high fever gradually subsided, allowing Jiang Zeyu to finally fall into a peaceful sleep.

Qu Wan reached out to feel his forehead, heaved a sigh of relief, tucked him in, and only then allowed herself to rest her head nearby and doze off for a while.

Jiang Zeyu didn’t wake until noon. His head throbbed with pain and his body felt drained of all strength. When he opened his eyes, there was no one by his side.

After lying still for a moment, he propped himself up with difficulty. He massaged his temples until the ache eased a little. His stomach burned uncomfortably, and his skin felt sticky—he must have sweated through the night as the fever broke.

A slave bent low before me; I placed my foot on his back, swung onto my horse, and reached out to take the bow and arrows that Unas handed me. Unas let go of the reins, vaulted onto another horse, and rode closely by my side.

Next came a chorus of anguished screams, mingled with Feng Zi’s solitary laughter. She had waited too long for this moment, but at last, she was not disappointed—this future was exactly to her satisfaction.

“Did you hear that, Immortal Yichen? Did you hear? It wasn’t me. Really, it wasn’t me. Now you understand, don’t you? I’ve been wronged,” Chen Yu explained with a look of relief. For some reason, he even felt grateful to the one who’d cursed him—their words had been scathing, but entirely apt.

As Yang Fan was pondering how to conduct a geological survey, his assistant unexpectedly arrived with the necessary equipment.

Nico was disgruntled; after all his hard work, why should he hand over his prize just because someone else demanded it?

He had come here to end Cheng Dan’s life, but now, with this sudden turn of events, Cheng Dan had vanished once more—though not without leaving a trace.

At that thought, Donghuang Taiyi and Ao Yin silently cursed Lü Yue. If he hadn’t upended the game so bluntly, how could the situation have become so complicated?

Upon seeing the Soul Shadows, Weng Zhong’s eyes flickered with an eerie light. He swung his arms at them as if to drive them away…

Yet the divine arts preceding the Art of Love were all extraordinary and unfathomable, impossible to measure by strength alone—hence the Art of Love was overshadowed by comparison.

On the dining table, the screen of a mobile phone still glowed, its last image lingering—Shi Miaowu’s hand touching the moonstone as she posed for a photo with Yang Ren.

In early August, Drilling Team No. 2 clinched a hard-fought 2:1 victory. Jingyi was the top contender in the secondary league, and even with Wu Jin joining White Moonlight, the outcome still surprised many.

If not for a timely reminder from Andre one day, he would have thought such days in San Francisco could last forever.

Han Yan caught her gaze, instantly understanding her meaning. He rubbed his nose, feeling a little guilty, but said nothing and simply led her inside.

“Grand Marshal, spare me!” The person in charge did not answer but fell to his knees, bowing his head to the floor in desperation. He said nothing, but an inexplicable shadow of dread passed through the hearts of those present.

Xia An was no fool—he knew he’d been used by his old schoolmate, who discarded him without a hint of gratitude once he’d served his purpose.

The man stood with his hands in his pockets. Hearing someone enter, he glanced back. Though he wasn’t particularly handsome, he didn’t ask anyone to leave.

“If the Heavenly Dragon Pass cannot be breached, and yet must be seized, then it’s a contradiction. The only solution is to use a roundabout tactic,” the young man said mildly.

It was March, and the midday air was only a little warmer than winter’s chill. Yin Huaizhen and Yun Xia had come directly from Concord Academy to the beach. Wearing only a thin woolen sweater and corduroy trousers, they shivered in the biting wind that swept the coastal streets of San Francisco, where winter nights rarely rose above eleven degrees.

Su Wushuang watched as Sun Jinghao spoke while unpacking, and when he pulled out bag after bag of snacks, she realized his true purpose was simply to catch a glimpse of Yan Xiyue. After all, every item he brought was something Yan Xiyue loved, including her latest favorite flavor of chips.