Fruit Store's Bottle

This is a hot-blooded story.
This is a story of growth.
#
Mo Shangjun, after an extraordinary encounter with a cunning fox, was as beautiful as a vase.
Rumor had it, she was capricious, crafty, a living rogue!
Ya Tianxing, the mysterious captain of the Ace Special Warfare, was as handsome as a devil.
Rumor had it, he was callous, brutal, a living tyrant!
In reality—
Both were high-level "appearance supremacists"!
The day they met, she was hanging onto Ace's shoulder with a hooligan’s flair, yet her words were earnestly persuasive, "If you want me, it's not impossible, but first, you've got to pay with your charm!"
"Deal!"
The gavel came down.
Thus, the emotional journey of the old fox and the young rogue began amidst a different type of fervor.
#
This is the story of two fiends, and when fiends clash head-on, if they want to avoid a life-or-death struggle, then the only option is to enjoy a thorough feast!
This is also a story of youthful ardor, with blood and tears. When the youth facing no regrets meets an increasingly powerful nation, what reason do we have not to be passionately stirred?
#
We love our country, so we have no regrets drenching our past weaknesses with sweat;
We love our country, so we selflessly guard the lives of strangers with our blood.
——Mo Shangjun
#
[The Chapter of Passion]
"Relying on oneself is too exhausting. Having a belief makes life a bit easier."
——What is your belief?
——You.

How Young Master Quan Pursues His Wife

The voice, casual and indifferent, held traces of helplessness, laziness, and even a hint of disappointment.


An Chen halted his steps and looked towards the source of the sound.


Surrounding the lakeside, there was a stone railing, gray and white; Mo Shangjun sat on that railing at an angle, her trench coat open and fluttering in the cold wind, her right leg resting on the railing, and her left leg hanging down, swinging lightly. With her back to the chilly breeze, she held a can of beer in her hand and, under his gaze, took a sip at a leisurely pace.


Behind her was the open lakeside, submerged in the night, with street lamps dotting the distance.


The lake's surface, the wintry snow, the street lamps, the passersby—in that instant, everything turned into a backdrop for her.


Even just sitting there, lazily lifting her eyelids to glance in this direction, she made a strong visual impact.


For a moment, he was reminded of that year—


100, [Second Shift] _1