Mint Cool Summer

[The female lead in this story is explosive, the male lead is arrogant, there's a mountain of dog food (sweet moments), and it's a story full of slag-abusing and monster-fighting, with a double dose of pampering joy.]
Ye Jiuliang was naturally cold and ruthless, with a fierce and wild approach to life. To the Ye Family, she was a calamitous lone star, and to the onlooking crowd, she was "Ninth Master".
It was said, no one was more arrogant than Ye Jiuliang; if she was second, no one claimed the first place.
Irritatingly, in the eyes of Li Mochan, she was his little wolf cub, the little rascal that he, Li Mochan, intended to pamper to the skies.
In the capital, it was widely rumored that the Li Family's Crown Prince could reduce people to ashes with just one look.
And yet, this precious and aloof figure was actually teased by Ye Jiuliang, and it seemed even... blushed.
**
Upon returning from a business trip, Li Wuye cornered her in a dim stairwell, his fingertips sliding over her porcelain white neck, "How many little brothers are there?"
Meeting his dark gaze, Ye Jiuliang arched an eyebrow, "Is Li Wuye in the mood to beat someone up?"
"So what if I am?" Li Mochan narrowed his eyes slightly, "Feeling pity?"
Ye Jiuliang held back a laugh and nodded, "The little brothers can't take a hit, can you go easy on them?"
[In the private room where Xiang Tian and others were singing their hearts out, they inexplicably felt a chill running down their spines.]
Li Mochan buried his face in her shoulder and spat out fiercely, "I cannot."
Those who dare to flirt with his wolf cub deserved a ruthless beating.

The Lady of the Prestigious Family is a Big Boss

The extravagantly dressed actor on stage sang and performed, their melodious voice possessing a unique charm all its own.


Beneath the stage, only a scattering of spectators were present, among them an elder lying back relaxedly in a pear wood rocking chair carved with pear blossoms, a jade thumb ring on his thumb gleaming with a translucent light.


The old man's silver hair was combed into a slicked-back style, his wrinkled face an unnatural shade of pale. His eyes were half-closed as his fingertips tapped along with the opera on the armrest of the chair.


The "thud thud" of his tapping was rhythmic.


The soft footsteps were drowned out by the opera, and the middle-aged man standing next to the elder nodded slightly at the newcomer's approach.


Mo Yu, in a light green cheongsam, moved with a graceful figure, her expressions carrying a hint of sharpness.


381, Not to be swayed by emotions (Wugeng)