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

Zhu Yourong knew that there were many things her disciple wanted to ask but hadn't, revealing them only occasionally with a sudden question, like the one not long ago when she asked if Zhu was tired.


Rigid, stubborn, conservative, and dull, yet occasionally spouting strange but interesting remarks, who could say that her little Xuanji was not a rare and exceptional woman in this world?


By the flower garden's table, Zhu Yourong smiled sweetly, put down her teacup, and stretched out her hand... to give a rub.


Yu Huaijin stiffened, her head slightly bowed under the 'loving hand' of a 'teacher's affection heavy as a mountain.'


Her gaze lowered to the table, her voice serious, "Teacher, please restrain yourself."


Zhu Yourong laughed happily, retracting her hand that had been ruffling her disciple's head.


A strand of blue hair slid down to the right cheek of the rigid woman.


Chapter 263 Mr. Zhao?_2