Chapter 21: An Early Return

“You all are really ungrateful!” Zhang Miao shot a glare at her three roommates, then cast a veiled glance at Zhang Liang, who walked at the very end, arms laden with bags. This was too much—he was her brother!

“Look at you, saying that again. Isn’t your brother also our brother? There’s no difference, really, no difference at all,” Wang Lili waved her hand dismissively, then slipped an arm around a certain fuming girl and whispered, “Does your brother have a girlfriend?”

“Get lost!” Zhang Miao nearly lost her composure, snapping at this troublemaker.

Such an embarrassing ordeal—of course Ye Qingcheng was unwilling! But after witnessing Wang Hui’s violent methods, and then his agility, she didn’t dare resist. So she was carried along by Wang Hui the entire way.

This was the corridor on the twenty-second floor. Several armed police officers stood at attention, while numerous government officials negotiated with the police. The atmosphere was cold and tense.

Since the opposition intended to use public opinion as their spearhead, naturally he would retaliate in kind.

Wang Hui had no interest in conversation. He gazed around, contemplating the underworld’s surroundings, while Dizang kept trying to approach him but was forever unable to get near.

No matter what, the past between Alisa and Dulin was an unchangeable fact—history that could never be rewritten. No matter how anyone tried to whitewash it, it would always exist.

She had relied too much on Ren Xiaoyou in the past, consulting her on everything and never making her own decisions.

Indeed, a smile is a magical thing. It may not convey anything concrete, but under different circumstances, in various environments and emotions, a smile—like a glance—can become a means of communication.

Although leaving the land their ancestors had lived on for generations was painful, seeing the beautiful oasis, the villagers couldn’t help but smile.

“But to discuss this with Sheng Zeyan—that’s tantamount to confessing everything to him. Isn’t that courting disaster?” Ji Xuan’s worry centered on this.

In any case, that’s how things were, which led Han Mu and the three parties before him to maintain a peaceful coexistence.

Her memories of saving Sun Yanling that summer were vague, but the winter she came here with her mother to gather plum blossoms when she was six was still vivid in her mind.

This was not the emperor she knew, not the emperor she was familiar with. The emperor had always been restrained, meticulous, calm—how could he become so deranged?

Having followed the old Taoist for so long, Chen Tianjiu had inevitably changed; his personality had undergone many transformations.

The door to the private room across the way was half open. Suddenly, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a slender, familiar figure—she was sitting on a man’s lap, her long arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mother…” Sizhēn finally relaxed and called out to the Empress Dowager again, nestling into her embrace, her face brimming with filial affection.

The entire household was busy preparing for the wedding day; in truth, it was mostly the dowry and jewelry that would be used after entering the palace.

Hearing my words, Fan Yujuan finally stopped her loud wailing. She took the tissue I handed her and dabbed at the mottled tears on her face, sniffling all the while.

Even so, Lu Jiayi still hoped the gods would grant her a long life. She was truly kind and gentle; since I had given her the happiness she desired, I wished her a lifetime of joy, and hoped Mo Li could protect her well.

Chen Zhengqiang still found Liu Tingting hard to tolerate in many ways, but after seeing that Li Hongbo drove a Volkswagen, he eased up on her a little.

High above, Lin Shu stared impassively at the collapsed area below, not relaxing for a moment. Chong Yan was, after all, from the divine clan—how could he have no tricks up his sleeve?

Watching from the side, Zhang Ying finally breathed a sigh of relief. At last, she had found someone her brother could accept. But she remained curious about Ye Zun. Could a boy of only fifteen or sixteen really have greater accomplishments in swordsmanship than those old masters who had devoted decades to the art?