I want to watch content similar to "After returning from death, I found that the male protagonists were reborn". It's like "After returning from death, I found that the male protagonists were reborn". There is really a shortage of books.
The descriptions of the two protagonists are very good. One is in love without knowing it, and the other misunderstanding is not revealed. They have become a better version of themselves after being apart for several years, and they have re-understood their feelings for each other. It is a sour story about making amends.
Very good at two-way fishing! Cool fishing beauty × possessive boss, from deliberately seducing to being in love, every time they look at each other there is hidden calculation and heartbeat, the pulling feeling of sweetness and desire directly fills the heart ~
📢This is really great. The female protagonist is a clear-headed person, but the male protagonist is a love-minded person. It's really good-looking. Anyway, "I'm willing to pick it up!" Ahhhhhh
The two male protagonists wear books and texts, and the sweets carry knives. While watching it, I cried and laughed sometimes, and it almost looked like a lunatic to me.
This sweet and sour HE style book has an ingenious plot, the sweet scenes are heart-warming, and the sour conflicts add twists and turns. The characters are vividly depicted and the emotions are delicate and moving, allowing readers to immerse themselves in the beautiful story and feel love and growth.
It's so sour but we're still together. From the Tongzi Tower to the 1:1 replica of the house and the exterior scenes. 6 Years of vacancy [crying][crying][crying]
These two books are by the same author. I personally think they were a little sour before the relationship was confirmed, but overall they are sweeter. Especially the first one is particularly beautiful and I have read it three times. "Today's Stall" is the story of He Cangdong, a construction site rack worker, and Ba Chi Chi, a boy from a lunch box stall: In the rough life, the coldness of steel and concrete collides with the smell of hot rice. The social brother is stumbled by the stumble when settling accounts and the panic when throwing spoons. People who used to prefer gentle scholars are finally addicted to the "uneducated but fresh" fireworks. Even an orange soda bottle contains the heartbeat of the world. "Willingly" is another contrast: Qin Yuan, a postdoctoral fellow with high IQ, uses rigorous logic to stick to Gan Xin, the owner of the small shop. Gan Xin had ordinary thoughts of "a wife and children on the hot bed", but was besieged by this cold-faced postdoc. He originally wanted to stay in the shop and spend the fireworks, but was dragged into the soft sweetness by an "academic-level clingy person". The collision between cold and hard rationality and ordinary life, accidentally brought out the most appropriate warmth.
If you pass by, don't miss it. These two books are definitely in line with each other. They are not blindly sweet. The plot development is just right. Two books that I read over and over again. Follow me and it's not a loss.
Jiangcheng. A small courtyard in a village in the city that is incompatible with the surrounding high-rise buildings. A luxury car with smooth lines was parked inconsistently at the entrance of the courtyard, attracting frequent glances from residents passing by. In the car, Sang Moyan was wearing a luxurious haute couture suit. His fingertips were tapping unconsciously on the steering wheel, and the last trace of patience on his face was about to run out. He raised his hand, glanced at the valuable Patek Philippe on his wrist, frowned, finally opened the door and got out of the car, and walked quickly into the courtyard with an elite aura that was completely different from this shabby environment. In the courtyard, Sang Ning was facing away from him. She was wearing a pair of cheap sportswear that had been washed white, and there were fresh mud spots on her trouser legs. At this moment, she was bowing slightly, holding an old hoe in her hand, and in a small and neatly divided field ridge, she was concentrating on a few plants with strange shapes and dark purple leaves. Her movements were skillful and steady, as if her hands were not a hoe but precise surgical instruments. Sang Moyan looked at this scene, and the anger in his chest almost overflowed. He walked over quickly, his expensive Italian handmade leather shoes making a dull sound on the dirt floor. He asked in a deep voice, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth: "What are you doing?" When Sang Ning heard the sound, his movements stopped and he slowly straightened up. She turned her head, there were beads of sweat on her forehead, but her eyes were clear and calm, without the slightest hint of panic. She glanced at Sang Moyan, whose face was ashen, and said in a calm tone, as if she was stating that the weather was good today: "Is there a problem with farming?" "I've been waiting for you outside for two hours! Are you doing this crap?" Sang Moyan's brows tightened, and his ugly face was now so dark that it could drip. He looked around the simple and dilapidated courtyard, and finally his eyes fell back on Sang Ning, with a condescending look and confusion, "Sang Ning, you should know that you are a young lady of the Sang family." "Miss Sang family?" Sang Ning repeated softly, with a very faint, almost mocking arc at the corner of his mouth. She stood the hoe firmly by her side and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Have you forgotten, Young Master Sang, that you personally 'invited' me out of the Sang family a month ago? Why, now the young lady of the Sang family still needs to farm her own land to make a living?" "That was just a momentary remark! Father asked you to go back and reflect!" Sang Mo said in a strong tone, but there was a hint of imperceptible irritation in his eyes, "Look at you now, what do you look like? You have to deal with these mud, and you are willing to fall!" "Willing to fall?" Sang Ning smiled. She bent down and carefully touched the leaves of the dark purple herb with a gentle movement. "In my opinion, they are much cleaner than those hypocrites in the Sang family's living room. At least, they will reward me for my hard work and will not stab me in the back." She raised her eyes and looked at Sang Moyan sharply: "Let's be honest, what are you looking for for me? You can't come here specifically to see how I 'fall', right?" Sang Moyan choked on her words, took a deep breath, and barely suppressed his anger. He remembered the purpose of his trip and conveyed it stiffly: "Next weekend is grandma's birthday party, you must be there. Here is the invitation." He took out an exquisite gilded invitation from the inner pocket of his suit and handed it over, as if giving charity. Sang Ning did not pick it up immediately. Her eyes passed over the gorgeous invitation card, and then fell back to her soil-covered fingers. Her tone was indifferent and she said with an understanding of everything, "Does grandma want to see me, or does the Sang family feel that the absence of a 'living' young lady at the birthday banquet is not good-looking?" Sang Moyan's eyes flashed slightly and he did not answer, but silence itself was the answer. Sang Ning looked at him and suddenly felt a little boring. She reached out and used two relatively clean fingers to pinch the invitation that was incompatible with her current environment. "I will consider it." She casually placed the invitation on an upside-down wooden barrel next to her, picked up the hoe again, turned her back, and continued to care for her herbs, "I won't send it." The order to expel guests was given cleanly. Sang Moyan looked at her slender but inexplicably tough back that was bent again. His breath was stuck in his chest, and he couldn't get up or get down. He stared at those strange grasses and finally said nothing. He snorted coldly, turned around and strode away. The roar of the engine grew from near to far, and the small courtyard regained its tranquility. Only the sound of a hoe turning over the soil was left. Sanning stopped and looked back at the invitation on the barrel with complicated eyes. She squatted down, lightly brushed the dark purple leaves of the herb with her fingertips, and whispered to herself, as if she was talking to the herbs, and as if she was telling herself: "Qingxincao, Qingxincao, tell me... Should I go into this pool of muddy water?" Under the sun, the dark purple leaves seemed to have a trace of undetectable light.