Sweet and Sour Sesame Spare Ribs

"Fine, go back to sleep. I’m heading downstairs to find my mother." With that, Gao Jingyi went downstairs, where Gao Linming, Gao Qiulin, and several nephews were keeping watch, tending to the lamp before the ancestral tablet to ensure it never flickered out.

"Zhizhi, the most important thing when riding a bike is to keep a steady grip on the handlebars. If you can control those, you’ve already mastered more than half of it," Song Chenbai carefully instructed.

"Damn it! Are you on laughing gas? Take this cheap street garbage back; you might be able to squeeze some kind of benefit out of it," the fat-faced officer said with growing impatience.

"What else could it be? It’s the company, of course. If you don't come back, you are no longer my son." The voice on the other end of the line suddenly cut off.

As Bai Xiang prepared for bed that night, she heard the ghost’s cries from the previous evening once again. Having not slept a wink the night before and spending the day in a state of anxious terror, she had hoped that bringing in a master to exorcise the spirits would allow her a peaceful night. To her dismay, before she could even drift off, the demonic voice returned to torment her from outside the door.

The fat man’s face was streaked with tears; all his dreams of being a hero had collapsed in an instant. All he wanted now was to stay alive.

President Yao sighed, calculating in his mind. His father had already passed away, so naturally, he was of no use.

This President Yao—his skin was truly thicker than the Great Wall! Such shameless sycophancy was unparalleled.

If only there were evidence today to send Ning the Third straight to the firing squad, the girls wouldn't have to live in constant fear.

Although she could talk a big game about being bold, when it came to the actual act, she still felt a bit... afraid.

"I called you here today to unite with other loyal ministers and collectively advise the Emperor to perform a blood test for proof of lineage. As the saying goes, 'Many voices can melt gold'; if we all insist she is a fake, even if she were real, he would believe she is an impostor," the Empress said.

"What can we possibly do? The Emperor has locked himself away, and we cannot reach him. Even if we could, if he refuses to forsake the Southern Beauty, what could we do? A heart as loyal as the sun and moon, yet the sun and moon do not know its devotion!" It was Ning Jumen who spoke, his voice heavy with helplessness.

Regardless of the reason, he would never forget that moment when he first arrived on this planet. The crimson glow, the beautiful melody of the zither, that graceful silhouette, and that gentle voice—he would never forget them, no matter how much time passed.

Then, Ji Meina’s gaze fell upon the computer screen, where the manga her mother had just drawn was displayed.

She wore only a simple, elegant jade hairpin in her hair. Though a smile graced her face, it failed to convey any true joy.

Nalan had long understood that Yu Linglong had feelings for Ji Meina, which was why she had always viewed her as a romantic rival.

Beneath them, the cloud-skiff seemed to have lost its purpose, drifting aimlessly through the heavens for who knows how long.

Of the three male athletes on the archery team, two had advanced to the quarterfinals—a quite impressive achievement.

Que pulled over a chair and sat down. She didn't speak, just watched her quietly from the side.

If not for the fact that the Dinghai Divine Pearl was not a picky eater and that intermediate magic cores were of little use to Wang Pengyu—serving only to replace certain consecrated items in setting up arrays—three hundred intermediate cores might not even be enough to trade for a single super-grade core.

"Tifanias, are you really willing to watch those three throw their lives away for you?" Goye began to challenge Tifa.

True Dragons, while capable of evolving from other magical beasts possessing dragon bloodlines, certainly possessed their own reproductive capabilities. It was simply that, compared to the Dragon clan, True Dragons found it far more difficult and time-consuming to propagate their kind.

The Kuomintang's post-event analyses always seemed so logical, yet no matter how sound they sounded, they were merely "hindsight is 20/20"; the momentum of history had long been irreversible.

The crowd stared blankly as King Zhou bowed three times, all of them puzzled and shocked. Only Fei Lian felt a stir in his heart, vaguely grasping the thoughts of the Shang King, and sighed silently, his brow etched with profound helplessness.

Watching Lin Juguang and Wang Zhiqing greet him and then hurry away, while You Hui never once glanced at him properly from start to finish, Ye Qingquan felt as though his heart were overgrown with weeds; caught in a cycle of hope and disappointment, he was deeply unsettled.

On the cloud platform, Yuanshi Tianzun sat with eyes closed, also silent, using his saintly primordial spirit to contemplate the heavens and sense the current tangled and chaotic fate.

Li Jiangguo scratched his head, thinking that was true. The squad leader was right; scouts couldn't possibly be idiots, and they certainly couldn't be slow-witted. But why did these two captives have such vacant eyes, as if they hadn't woken up from a drunken stupor?

"No... you are not allowed to speak ill of Big Brother!" Just as Ren Pindi attempted to stop Yuuka, the Bug Girl had already walked up to Yuugi. Although the trembling of her legs betrayed her deep fear of interacting with a stranger, the desire to protect Rock still sustained her.

The edges of the dance hall were lined with long wooden benches, where pairs of vampires engaged in intimate contact, lending an even more decadent atmosphere to the scene.

However, as the various tidal magic channels of the multiverse were opened, divine bodies became increasingly susceptible to the influence of these tidal forces, which compromised the power of their divine personas. Thus, few people walked the path of the gods anymore.

I truly cannot out-argue those who chant scriptures, but I have no reason to be angry, for I hold no malice toward Confucianism. If Confucianism could civilize the world for four hundred years, it was a winner for four hundred years, and I admire winners above all else.

In the entertainment industry, rankings were strictly divided into actors, singers, hosts, and comedians. If an industry as small as entertainment was this complex, one could only imagine the upper circles.

The June summer breeze was slightly sultry, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves in mottled patches. As the bell rang to end the class, the sound of footsteps thundered on the stairs; this break was longer than usual, as it was time for the morning radio gymnastics.

The choice of time and place might have been the circumstances of Ma Yuexiang and Wang Zhihui's first meeting—an encounter that had left a deep, obsessive mark on Ma Yuexiang's heart.

With today's battle, the crushing defeat of the righteous path was a foregone conclusion. The rise of the demonic and the decline of the righteous was no longer just empty talk. But as long as Shen Ruofan lived and Jiangnan remained standing, achieving a true triumph of the demonic would be difficult.

It is unknown how much time passed, but once he heard the person beside him sleeping soundly, he moved his arm away and rose from the bed with light, cautious steps.

Yu Yichen wanted to start a talent agency; he had to cultivate his own talent in the industry. He couldn't put all his eggs in one basket, so he wanted Jiang Haiqiong to become familiar with the tricks of the trade.

Tonight, Yu Yichen had put up a stat line of 34 points, 15 rebounds, and 4 assists. In a game billed as a battle of the centers, Yu Yichen had clearly come fully prepared.