"If you donate a kidney to Wanwan, I'll have a kid with you."
The husband she had married to for two years who never touched her, was suddenly willing to have a child with her. However, he insisted that she must donate a kidney to the woman he was having an affair with?
A man like this—was there any point in not divorcing and leaving him to directly meet the maker?
Yun Qingqing decisively divorced, and everyone was eagerly waiting to see her downfall.
Ex-husband: "Within three days, she'll definitely come back begging me to reconcile."
Stepsister: "A grass widow like her, even a beggar might not fancy. It's absolutely impossible for her to marry into an elite family again."
Walking hand in hand with the Seventh Master Sheng, who was her ex-husband's arch-nemesis, as well as the man her stepsister most desired to marry among the Nan City's elite heirs, Yun Qingqing smiled and handed them the wedding invitation.
This second marriage not only outshone the first, but Yun Qingqing also stepped onto the stage that the entire world was watching, holding a concert attended by tens of thousands of people, becoming the brightest star in the music industry.
Watching his ex-wife radiate with brilliance, Lu Yanchen regretted his past actions and entered full "simp" mode.
The Seventh Master Sheng, who had absolutely nothing to fear, pressed Yun Qingqing against his chest. Lightly caressing her slender waist, his voice so tender it was unlike himself.
"Baby, can you kiss me again?"
"Baby, I can't sleep without holding you."
"Baby, as long as you don't divorce, I'd even give my life to you..."

My Ex-Husband's Arch-Enemy in Love with Me

In disarray, she slumped into the man's embrace, too weak to even tidy her attire. Yun Qingqing knew only one thing: they had been sharing kisses for an extended period. Buried her flushed visage against Sheng Ting's chest, she had no idea whether her planned progress bar had shifted at all.


The man's long, powerful fingers delicately stroked her silky tresses, causing Yun Qingqing, who had just managed to steady her breathing, to become slightly discomposed again. She moistened her slightly swollen lips and gazed up at Sheng Ting, her voice hoarse as she pitifully spoke, "Ting, could we perhaps negotiate?"


Indeed, without the need for her explicit request, Sheng Ting already understood what she wished to discuss. He inquired, "What do you want to negotiate?"


A Person of Discerning Taste