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Arthur stared at his phone, the weight of her warning settling over him like smog. In his hands, he held what might be the most dangerous item in Night City. Just a chip—something so small it could be mistaken for a scrap of junk—but it radiated the kind of danger you didn't want to get too close to. Holding it felt like gripping the exhaust pipe of a burning hot Arasaka ride: one false move and you're cooked.

Military Tech hadn't skimped on deception. The chip had been buried deep ...

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Content tags: Romance of the Times Sweet Text Shuangwen
Search keywords: Protagonist: Lin Wei, Zong Shao ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:

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When Adam finished his turn and then was preparing to go home after several hours of work, his team received a fire alert. He didn't expect that he would die following his father's footsteps, but fate had something else in store for him.

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It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?