Yang Xiaorong

Upon opening his eyes, there before him was a bridal chamber adorned with red candles and windows.
A bride dressed in a phoenix coronet and robes of rank sat upright on the nuptial bed, her face covered by a red bridal veil.
Zhao Rong rubbed his sleepy eyes, "Have I become a groom? Oh, and a junior one at that."
Understood.
His facial expression brewed for a moment before he twisted his mouth into a smile, "Wait a second..."
Huh, something's amiss.
The bride is my childhood sweetheart who also harbored a crush on me?
Oh, then that's alright.
This is very fitting.
Zhao Rong stepped forward, happily lifting the red bridal veil, "Hey hey, my lady, where are you running off to?"
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In the great era of contention, the tide of the times surged forth, and Confucian Scholar Zhao Rong bravely faced it head-on. Not only did he seek to catch up to the footsteps of his childhood sweetheart turned Sword Immortal Lady, but he also wished to witness firsthand the dispute that engulfed more than half of the Cultivation World, the strife among the various schools of thought...
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[Slow-burn], [Non-cliché], [Non-level-up], [Romance plot], [Sweet without the angst]
This book is also known as "I Have a Fox Fairy Wife", "Rebirth: I Deliver Parcels in the Otherworld", "Zhao Ziyu, The Smirking Scholar" "I Really Don't Want to Be a Kept Man"...

My Wife Is A Sword Immortal

It's not appropriate, not appropriate at all. She is a Teacher from the Academy, and I am a student. This is far too against the norms.


Zhao Rong chuckled to himself, shaking his head to dispel these fluttering thoughts, choosing not to ponder them further.


He scanned his surroundings; there weren't many pedestrians on the road, and most of them seemed to be fellow scholars and older classmates from the Academy, as the majority of students from the Mochi Academy were still in class.


The weather was clear today; the morning sun spread its warmth over him.


Underneath the sun, Zhao Rong squinted slightly, hands clasped behind his back, humming a tune, when suddenly, a figure appeared at the corner ahead and caught his eye.


This was a graceful silhouette clad in a Confucian robe, walking towards Zhao Rong along with the sunlight, carrying the delicate scent of orchids and stepping with quiet grace.


Chapter 248 Zhao Rong, Why Not Live Off Her?_2