The Grand Secretary’s Pampered Wife - Chapter 671.1: Untitled

Qiu Qiu was born into a scholarly family. He possessed great looks and a kind heart. His outstanding grades were just as praiseworthy as the cute dimple he exposed each time he laughed. His melodic singing moved the hearts of all, and his guitar-playing skills were down-right godly. It wasn’t long before the overbearing president, Fu Ruien, fell for him, hard.

Fu Ruien: Qiuqiu, I would like to ‘support’ you.

Qiu Qiu: Oh, so you’re going to support me financially?! Like a scholarship?! Yay, that’s great!

And so, the two happily made arrangements, utterly oblivious to the fact that they both weren’t on the same page…

…..Three months later.

Fu Ruien: Are you a numbskull?! If you’re not being ‘kept’ by me, then why the hell would you call me ‘Daddy’?!

Qiu Qiu: In my defense, I saw that you were a 40-year-old uncle who still hadn’t been married, so I just wanted you to actually experience the warmth of a family!

Fu Ruien: …???

Qiu Qiu: But even if you don’t have a partner, at least you have this bright, talented and handsome eldest son who’s there for you. I mean, just where in the world would you be able to find such a perfect son like him!

- Description from Novelupdates

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”

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