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...

   It is strange that there are few conversations.

   Soon, the flower slave who got permission brought her in.

   Lin Mengya glanced at the surroundings from the corner.

   In addition to the main room, there are two wing rooms on the left and right.

   Besides, there are a lot of herbs and things in the yard, but they are very clean.

   She smelled the fragrance of medicine in the air, and she was even more surprised.

  Most of those herbs are ...

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Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

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She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

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