Seventeen Vine Moon

Jiang Li first met Liang Zhou Yue while she was uncomfortably dressed in a gown, hiding in his resting room to adjust her attire. 
Seeing him, she became so nervous that she couldn't pull up the zipper, her embarrassment palpable. 
That day, Jiang Li felt an unusual tug at his heartstrings and helped her with the zipper twice. 
Upon their next encounter, he was the campus prince, and she was everyone's darling. 
He played basketball on the field, while she, in her flowing dress, sat in her boyfriend's passenger seat. 
It was then that Jiang Li understood he had to see things through to the bitter end. 
To seize love forcefully, to take advantage of her vulnerability. 
After all, such a beautiful woman should naturally belong to him. 

Liang Zhou Yue never thought she would be liked by a man five years her junior. 
He was rebellious, cold, proud, and remote, but he always responded to her every request. 
On a hot summer day, Liang Zhou Yue was stopped by a downpour at the entrance of the teaching building, with swirling filthy water and sludge on the steps below. 
As she worried about how to return to her dorm, a man's rigid spine bent in front of her. 
Jiang Li's tone was always so languid, casually stirring distress: "Sister, I'm afraid you're scared. I especially came to carry you home today." 
In that moment, Jiang Li, who had never gotten close to a girl before, submitted to her before everyone.

Deliberate Infatuation

Liang Zhouyue was rendered speechless by his retort, and although she should have snapped back at him, her current disheveled state left her with the will but not the strength. The next second, not needing his help, she propped herself up on her hands, clenched her teeth, and with one determined effort, stood up.


"Fine, don't help me, I hate you so much!"


Liang Zhouyue cursed fiercely, without any regard for the feelings of the man she was cursing.


Jiang Li not only didn't get angry but actually seemed quite pleased, the corners of his mouth curving up in a way that could rival the bloom of spring, his eyes and brows tinged with a beguiling charm: "Tsk tsk, such spirited cursing, curse me more often in the future."


The pretty ladies called out 'disgusting' at every turn, while he only parroted national quintessence—nobody could match her innate gentleness.


Chapter 25: Idol Drama