Lian Yi

I was the cannon-fodder white moonlight in a cultivation novel, replaced by a substitute who took my place. On the day I was expelled from my sect and left on the verge of death, my archenemy picked me up and took me home. He smiled darkly. “You’ve finally fallen into my hands. I’ll make you beg for life and be denied death!” To better torment me, he began treating my illness and nursing my injuries. Rare treasures of heaven and earth were poured into me as if they cost nothing. Until one day, he stood there holding a child, his expression utterly blank. “Aren’t we supposed to be archenemies?” I pressed my forehead to his and answered perfunctorily, “All right, we’ve had our face-off. Go play.”