MTL - The Concubine is Covering the Vest Every Day - Chapter 32

Su Wanwan’s scumbag fiancé cheated on her! The third party actually turned out to be her scumbag half-sister who shared the same father with her! In order to take revenge on her biased father and her white lotus stepmother and scum sister, she agreed to the marriage proposal from the mysterious boss in a fit of anger. Rumor has it that Huo Jingshen was a rich heir and he was the eldest grandson of the Huo family in Nanchang. He was extremely handsome and dashing, mature and also elegant. He was the perfect bachelor in many women’s eyes. However, he was actually ten years older than her? Su Wanwan secretly despised him: He was too old! There was a gap in their aesthetics! He was a boring and uninteresting old man! She regretted it and she was thinking if she could get a divorce? Who would have known that after their marriage…

“Husband, hurry up!”

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Xiao Yu’an was reincarnated into a novel. As a cut-sleeve teen emperor. ​Terrible, so sad. Because of this, Xiao Yu’an does his best to continue living. But! It’s fine if you guys want to fantasize about the male lead, but can you stop trying to climb into his bed? Yes he does treat the male lead well, but that’s only because he needs that main character halo!!

Xiao Yu’an: “Stop abusing the male lead!!! You guys aren’t scared but I wanna live!!!”

A story that starts out with Shou taking care of the Gong, then Gong takes care of the Shou.

- Description from Novelupdates

When the admissions office of Witch Academy called, I was stunned—I had been accepted into a school I never imagined I could touch.Yes, I am a boy and it is an all-girls’ academy, but they did not mind, so I saw no reason to object. I had applied secretly, without telling my family, just to take a chance.But as soon as those striking seniors greeted us newcomers—pressing every boy against the wall with a knowing smile—I realized things were about to spin out of control.“Oh, come now, you sweet little freshman,” one of them said smoothly, her voice full of mischief. “Don’t make this difficult for me, your big sis. Swallow this core and transform into a witch like me, alright?”She held the glowing orb before us, half-threatening, half-teasing, almost inviting the new boys to react. It was clear she enjoyed it—the blend of fear and resistance in their expressions. Our unease seemed to be her personal amusement.After all, they only had this opportunity once a year.

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.