Annie and James were there for each other since elementary. Annie always protected James even though she is younger than him. Unfortunately, the two were separated. 7 years later, James and Annie meet again. Will James finally fulfill his promise to Annie? In addition, will a love triangle ruin the relationship between Annie and James? Read to find out ;)

*~WARNING~*
-this story includes-
-sexual activity 
-curse words
RECOMMENDED FOR AGES OVER 17


{if you are new to reading my novels WELCOME ;)}
i recently started writing novels...
“My Elementary Lover” is ongoing, which I am currently working on.
“The Vampire Bride” has released!! go check it out! (i will try to update as much as i can.)

i hope you enjoy reading my novels! i am truly sorry if i take long to post chapters, or don’t meet the criteria as an author. since i’m a beginner, my writing is simple. anyways enjoy!!!

Louis and Marga were elementary school classmate's. Due to some reasons Marga moved to another town. Now life had brought back those two together in summer breaks. They decided to write about daily life together in a single diary without seeing the pages of other one. One can only see other's page when they separate.

"Cheol-yong, move!"
"Watch out!"

Hyung-geun intercepted the ball easily enough and passed it to someone else before receiving it once again a moment later. All the other children circled around him, determined to steal the ball back for themselves, but Hyung-geun skillfully maneuvered around them all, dribbling all the way to the goalpost. He looked up to find his aim, but was thrown off by what he saw.

"Huh?"

Or rather, by what he didn't see. The goalkeeper was nowhere to be seen.

"Stop him!"
"Get him! No!!"

Hyung-geun kicked the ball into the goal with little effort and, surely enough, scored a point for his team.

"Where did plaster face go?" Myeong-su asked, but no one had an answer for him.

Unseen by the other children, Lucid had snuck away from the field and climbed the mountain behind the institute for the first time in a rather long time. It had been an impulsive decision on his part, but he had also hoped that coming back would somehow transport him to the other world again, as it had before.

This mountain, unlike the forest in the other world, was mainly comprised of bamboo and oak trees. With both being evergreens, the mountain was a lovely shade of green all year round, and even now, it looked like a piece of summer stranded in a winter land. Only the harsh wind broke the illusion. Still, as with most other mountains, the ground was covered with a decent amount of fallen leaves, but they posed no problem for Lucid as he climbed higher and higher, especially since he had cast magic to increase the friction on the bottom of his shoes. For him, climbing up the mountain was no different from walking down the street, and he reached the peak in no time. Breathing heavily to regain control, he noticed that his physical strength and stamina had both deteriorated over the past year. Before, he hadn't even broken a sweat climbing this same mountain, yet here he was now, huffing and puffing. All that sitting and reading must have taken a toll on him after all.

The sky he saw down at the courtyard and the sky he was now looking at, from high in the mountain, were one and the same, as clear and blue as ever, but the air felt different. It was clearer, crisper, and he took deep breaths to fill his lungs with it. He closed his eyes and felt the wind on his skin, canceling all the magic he had cast before. As the warming magic left him, a sharp chill ran down his spine.

"Mom." he called, his voice low. He hadn't spoken that word out loud in a long time, and he choked on it.

****

Dong-in had been looking out the window, watching some middle schoolers running around with some elementary schoolers.

"God dammit." he muttered under his breath.

He had been cursing quite a lot recently, and most times, he didn't even realize. The words left his lips whenever he felt even a little miffed, whether he was alone or not, prompted or not. Right now, he cursed watching the children playing in the field.

He hadn't known this when he himself was a young child, but now that he was in middle school, playing outside and kicking a ball around were no longer entertaining, and he had no wish to participate. It was easy enough for elementary schoolers to run around chasing a ball, but the middle schoolers with them were a bit different. They would run just enough to reach the ball and kick it just enough to get the children to run to the other side. In other words, they weren't playing. They were just taking care of the younger children. When Dong-in was younger, the middle schoolers (now high schoolers) took care of him in the same way, and now, his peers took care of the elementary schoolers. High schoolers then avoided the courtyard altogether, choosing to let the younger kids run free and instead studying to achieve their goals for the future, once they left the institute. Such were the rules of the Anes Institute, a sort of tradition to allow all the children to come together and fraternize, growing closer together as real siblings would. Or was it?

"In the same boat, so row together." Dong-in grumbled.

Once he had realized that this was the true intention of the rules, Dong-in had lost all interest in playing. It disgusted him to know that he was expected to go out and mingle with the rest of the children, so that they may all be pitied together. He didn't want to be considered pitiful, and he didn't want to consider the other children as such either. So, he simply grew to dislike their soccer games. That was why he was currently holed up in his room, avoiding all the volunteers crawling about the institute and watching the children play outside, as much as he hated it. That's when he noticed one of the goalkeepers turn around and sneak off somewhere.

He gnawed on his lips as he watched the boy's retreating figure, feeling all sorts of emotions bubbling inside, emotions that stung his eyes with unshed tears, emotions that made him want to scream until his throat bled, that burst the blood vessels in his eyes and made his breath uneven. Hatred, disgust, resentment, contempt. No matter how many words he used to describe his emotions, they weren't enough to properly convey everything he felt. Part of him felt frustrated. Why should he have to feel this way? He didn't deserve this. He had lived his whole life being well-liked as a good student, a good child, a kind person who always smiled, until that boy came along and pushed him straight to the depths of hell. He couldn't ever forgive him. He wouldn't ever forgive him.

Dong-in turned around and left his room.

****

Yun-jeong had made her way to the cafeteria quite early in the morning, which was unusual for her. After helping out with serving breakfast, she gleefully went in the kitchens to practice her own cooking. With the recent boom of cooking programs on TV, Yun-jeong was more than ecstatic, and she made up her mind to be like all those famous chefs and master their fancy skills. As such, she had grabbed the kitchen wok and was now furiously shaking it about. It was no easy feat, as slender as her arms were, but she persevered, passionately practicing the movement. She rolled the wok around to evenly coat it in oil before dumping in the spring onions she had chopped up. Then, she added a splash of soy sauce, to both flavor and impart some aroma to the oil. As she shook the wok around, the fresh scent of spring onion oil wafted through the air.

"Yun-jeong! Are you into Chinese food now?"
"What are you making? You've made such a mess!"
"Fried rice!" Yun-jeong answered cheerfully, smiling at the cooks who had gathered around to watch.

Focusing once more on the wok in her hands, she added ground pork and various vegetables, stir frying as needed before reducing the heat to add the rice. She would be sharing with all the cooks, so she would have to make plenty. However, that meant more of everything, and the considerable weight of all the ingredients as well as of the wok put quite a strain on her wrists. The only thing pushing her forward was her love for cooking, and she continued to shake the wok around. After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally set it down and turned the heat off, dividing the fried rice evenly on three plates.

"It's done!" She said. She was covered in sweat, but she knew that it was a result of her hard work. She was proud of herself and of what she achieved. "Come have a taste!"
"Are you done?" asked one of the cooks.
"Nope! I'm making crab soup next!"

Yun-jeong wiped the sweat from her eyes and set to preparing for her next dish.

****

Ki-woong had been reading, the door to his room firmly shut. Outside, a sign hung from it, reading "Currently studying, do not disturb." Normally, most institutes housing high school students didn't receive high school volunteers, to avoid the awkward, if not downright patronizing, situation of being taken care of by a peer. Even if high school volunteers were accepted, measures were taked to prevent them from meeting the resident high schoolers, such as sending the latter outside. The Anes Institute was no different, and with the influx of high school volunteers (it was the weekend, after all), most of the high schoolers had gone out. All, actually, except for Ki-woong.

Ki-woong had chosen to stay, mainly because he had nothing better to do outside, and he didn't quite care about the volunteers wandering about the institute. As long as he didn't run into them, then everything was fine. And so, he had kept reading, until he heard a knock at the door.

"Ki-woong," a voice called from outside. "Are you free?"

Recognizing the voice as one of the teachers, Ki-woong opened the door.

"How can I help you?"
"The administrative office asked if you could help them out. They're a little flooded, I think."

This was a rather common occurrence in the institute. If the office was behind in its work, Ki-woong would often go down to lend a hand. This was partly because he was the smartest high schooler in the institute, and he had actually proven himself to be quite adept at getting things done. The biggest reason, however, was that he hardly complained, to the point that the director of administration had actually suggested that Ki-woong work at the office after graduating high school. This wasn't well-received at all, since Ki-woong had his sights set on medical school, but he had still smiled and laughed it off, showing remarkable self-control and patience.

"Yes, of course. Should I go down right away?"
"Yes, please. Thank you so much, and I'm so sorry to ask you every time."

The teacher smiled bitterly and pat Ki-woong's arm in an attempt to comfort him. The boy wasn't getting paid at all, simply giving out his time for the sake of the institute, and this made the teacher feel all kinds of terrible. He was proud of him, yes, but it was still a very regrettable situation. Ki-woong was, the teacher thought, the very definition of a volunteer.

****

Jiwon had walked back (though "escaped" would be more accurate) to the institute from the courtyard, and she was hardly in the mood to talk to anyone. But with nowhere to go, she was forced to go inside and join the rest of the volunteers.

"Jiwon," one of them called out. "What are you doing?"
"Oh... Um... I was just wondering if there's anything I can do to help."
"You're really red, did you know that?" the volunteer asked, cupping Jiwon's cheeks in her hands. "How long were you outside? Goodness. Stay inside, and go check the kitchens. They'll be getting food ready soon, so go see if there are any dishes that need to be done."

The volunteer had assumed that Jiwon had gone out to play, and Jiwon was much too high strung to explain herself. She couldn't even find the proper words for it, and she simply nodded, making her way towards the kitchens as she had been instructed.

In her head, she kept replaying the conversation she had with that boy. Why had she said that? She had no idea, and she was embarrassed beyond words. She had volunteered at the institute before, but back then, she had to do so much work that there simply hadn't been enough time for her to talk to any of the residing children. That was why she had made up her mind to spend some time with them this time around. She had a lot of work today as well, but she had managed to sneak out to the courtyard somehow. But after all her efforts, she had been attacked when she had least expected it.

To Jiwon, volunteering at an institute meant playing with the children, holding their hands and talking to them as a way to make them feel loved. That's what heroines did, wasn't it? Still, when she had seen the children running around in the dirt, she had felt a bit put off, which is why she had decided to talk to the child farthest away from all the mess. That turned out to be her worst decision yet, as she had gotten quite hurt from their conversation.

"Why would talking to us be work?" the boy had asked.

She had immediately felt in the wrong. Perhaps she had been so flustered, so scared by the boy's piercing gaze because she felt guilty. No, she knew that was the reason. She had known it as soon as she heard the boy's words, and that was why she had practically run away from him.

She felt bad. Instead of making him feel loved, she had hurt his feelings, and she felt terrible about it.  But she also had no excuse, no good reason to go back so soon, so she simply went to the kitchens. Maybe distracting herself with work would help calm her down and get her thoughts back in order. Then, she decided, she would go back and apologize.

When Jiwon turned the corner to get to the back of the building, where the cafeteria was, she saw a boy climb the fence and go into the mountain. He had short hair, and he was shorter than her. A middle schooler, most likely. As she watched, he walked calmly, but with determination, towards the mountain, and his figure was soon hidden by the trees.

With a mountain so close to the institute, perhaps it acted like a natural playground for the children here. Did they usually go out into the mountain? Probably, Jiwon thought. Dismissing it at that, she opened the door to the cafeteria.


<Lucid Dream (1)> End.

A boy who was living an ordinary life in another world suddenly came to the present world.

Social systems, way of life and morals... They have all changed.

How will the boy try to survive?

What kind of life will the boy live?

Apartment 5- Li Xiuying's bedroom

Li Xiuying put her phone on her bedside cabinet; she turned her attention back to the report and started reading.

The man who Li Xiuying referred to as Dragon tattoo was creatively nick-named Dragon, legal name Deng Bojing.  The report went as far as detailing Deng Bojing's childhood. 

Deng Bojing had been an aggressive and violent child, when he was just 9 years old he had stabbed a fork into another child's hand. 

His father worked in construction and his mother was an elementary school teacher.  After the stabbing incident they had forced Deng Bojing to see various therapists, counselors and even psychiatrists. They also signed him up for anger management programs. 

Nothing made a difference; Deng Bojing's behavior became more violent and he started engaging in petty crimes. In order to try and reform him, his parents sent him away to a Boarding school for troubled teens when he was 13 years old.

He stayed at the boarding school for 3 years. When he was 16 the school had stated that Deng Bojing was fully reformed and that he was ready to become an active and contributing member of society.

2 months after his return to the family home, his parents had been murdered in an attempted burglary.  They had been strangled, decapitated and had their bodies mutilated. 

Deng Bojing was cleared of murder charges; his alibi was that he was staying with a friend for the last several days. His friend and the friend's family corroborated the story. 

Deng Bojing then went to live with his grandmother just on the outskirts of the city. 6 Months later, a neighbor found Deng Bojing's grandmother's dead body in an arm chair in the living room. The coroner ruled it as a death by natural causes. 

Li Xiuying frowned at the document in her hand; the more she read the more disgusted she felt. How could someone be so evil from such a young age? There was no doubt in Li Xiuying's mind that Deng Bojing had murdered both his parents and his grandmother. 

Li Xiuying continued reading. 

At the Age of 18 Den Bojing joined the Phantoms. Den Bojing had been conveniently walking down the alley where Phantom the Overlord of the west side had been ambushed by a group of armed men. Deng Bojing had taken a bullet for Phantom. Phantom in return allowed Den Bojing to join his syndicate. 

Deng Bojing rapidly rose up the ranks. He was known for being cut throat and cruel. He didn't even blink when taking a life. He raped, stole, abducted, killed, tortured, you name it he had done it there was no end to the list of his crimes. 

In 2007 he was banished from the Phantoms and there were multiple rumors circulating as to the reason why. "The most widely believed was that Deng Bojing raped and killed a junior member's girlfriend and made him watch." Li Xiuying read the last sentence out loud. 

Li Xiuying forced herself to read on...

No one truly knows why Deng Bojing was banished but it was a fact that Phantom had beaten Deng Bojing to within an inch of his life. 

When Deng Bojing was banished, four others followed him and left the Phantoms. Deng Bojing became the leader of the pentad; which he aptly named The Soulless.

Li Xiuying's frown deepend as she read the next few sentences. 

Deng Bojing made connection with various members from the upper echelons of society; from politicians to the heir's of conglomerates. The Soulless became thugs for hire; but they weren't cheap their fee's started from a minimum of $100 k and went up into millions. 

Li Xiuying was curious about how Deng Bojing was able to make connections with such prominent people. 

Li Xiuying skim read the next page about Deng Bojing; it contained more details about his individual criminal activity.  

Li Xiuying had a quick flick through the next pages. The next 15 pages detailed various people who had hired The Soulless and the 'jobs' they had wanted completed, along with the price. 

Li Xiuying started looking through the list starting at page 1, she quirked her brow when she saw Chen Wei's name on page two next to his name was written 'cripple research partner' 200 k.

She continued skimming and came across Li Mei Wu's name on page four, next to her name was written 'Humiliate the Lu family's daughter' 450 k. 

Li Xiuying wanted to know what her 'aunt' had paid The Soulless to do. 

The list contained a myriad of jobs like "**** and torture step-sister", "destroy the shop", "steal deed to the house" etc. There were even minor jobs like 'Wu Shing - escort to school. 100 k'

Li Xiuying made a mental note to memorize the list. 

Li Xiuying put the pages about Deng Bojing and the list of 'jobs' back in the the A4 Envelope. 

She looked back at the report, there was a head shot of face scar. Li Xiuying put the report to the side and got out of bed.  She needed a break. 

Li Xiuying stood up and then stretched, she picked up her phone and walked to the kitchen.  She put the kettle on and took a mug out of a kitchen cupboard.

Li Xiuying looked at her phone, Ren Daiyu still hadn't replied to her earlier message. 

Li Xiuying sent another message: "Daiyu, Everything okay?"

She received an instantaneously reply. 

Ren Daiyu's message: "YingYing, I'm so sorry for my late response. I'm fine, I arrived home safely. I'm just in the middle of discussing the blind date with my dad. He just doesn't seem to want to listen to reason and logic, he insists I attend the stupid date even after seeing the message! I definitely wouldn't hire him to be my lawyer."

Li Xiuying smirked and wrote back: "Hire him he's currently winning."

Ren Daiyu's message: "Who's side are you on?!"

Li Xiuying was in the middle of typing up her response when Ren Daiyu sent another message: "YingYing I'll fill you in on the situation later.  I'm going to go and try to persuade my mum and uncle to help."

Li Xiuying made herself a cup of lavender tea and returned back to her bedroom to continue reading the report.

Li Xiuying is the youngest surgeon the world has ever seen. 

Once upon a time, her work had meaning; to save lives. But soon surgery lost all of its meaning to her, she became an operating machine. She didn’t even meet the patient until they were unconscious on her surgical table like a piece of meat waiting to be carved. 

She neglected love, friendship, beauty, her health all to work tirelessly like a dog and continue to make her family happy. Even when she had no more left to give; they made sure she gave.

But betrayal came swiftly and suddenly and Li Xiuying met her untimely end at the hands of her most trusted and loves ones. 

All the world’s a stage and it seems it is not yet time for Li Xiuying to exit. She finds herself waking up in her bed, 8 years in the past.
 
She is granted a second chance at life.

............................................................................................

This is a slow romance novel 

The novel may have realistic elements but it is a Work of Fiction.

There will be medical cases and scenario's included due to the main character (Li Xiuying) being a doctor. I have tried my best to explain as much of the medical terminology as possible.

...........................................................................................

Dack Martin always bided his time. Back in elementary school, when the other kids would go out to play on the field, Dack would sit there and watch. Whenever Dack went into a room it would take him several minutes of watching to even dare speak to someone.

Now those days in elementary school were gone and Dack has been very patient. Dack has worked the same dead-end desk job for several years, he has not been the most productive nor the least productive, he has made sure that nobody notices him. When he goes home from work, he doesn't crack open a beer and watch television, he just reads and reads from the thousands of books in his father's collection.

It's a dark red bookshelf in which they are stored. When Dack was in high school he remembered always watching his dad pick up a book from the same bookshelf. He would read for hours at a time, taking his time on each page and after he was done he would put the book back in the bookshelf and do whatever other night time activity he had that day.

But now his dad was gone. His mom was gone. His brother... Well he wasn't here anymore but Dack didn't know if he was gone. It's night now and Dack finished the book he was reading. Just a crappy fantasy novel that nobody in their right mind would read anymore. Dack looks up at the pale roof of the ceiling of his house and falls asleep.

At exactly 7 AM sharp he wakes up as if he was on a clock and starts getting ready for work. He prepares a simple breakfast, a singular egg, a piece of bacon, one piece of toast burnt only on the edges. As he eats he watches the birds outside of his house feast on the bird feeder he had laid out for them.

At 8 AM he makes his way to work on his bicycle. The ride takes only 30 minutes and it is the only exercise that Dack will make that day. He gets off his bicycle and parks it in the company parking lot. Nobody will steal the bicycle today.

Dack is whistling the tune to an old rock song, a favorite of his fathers, as he walks up into the company building. As he makes his way to his cuticle, he looks around and notices nobody else in the building.

Did Dack miss the message? Dack checked his watch, it was the right time and yet everyone had disappeared. He knew it wasn't the weekend and even if it was Dack and the rest of the permanent employees would still be at work.

Dack shrugs his shoulders and sits down at his desk. He does his work, mostly filing papers and checking the company's data banks. He wished that he could check the internet but the boss had disabled everything but the inner company network something about "ruining productivity!" Dack supposed it was good for productivity but it really made the days less... fulfilling.


At 5 PM Dack leaves the office and takes his bicycle to go back home. Now it is dark and the trees loom overhead. He doesn't speed up nor does he slow down. It takes him only 25 minutes to get home. Today was a faster day.

At 6 he reads a book from his dad's collection. At 7 the book is done. It was a short one anyway. He gets up from his chair to eat dinner. It's leftovers from last night, Dack is too tired to make any more additional food. After eating he puts the dishes back into the sink, they will be a problem for future Dack.

It's now 9 PM, the woods around Dack's house are pitch black and occasionally if you listen in closely you can hear the vague sounds of an animal hooting or howling. It would be ominous if they weren't so far away. Tonight Dack walks out onto his deck and stares into the woods.

He smokes a cigarette, one of Dack's only bad habits. He picked it up after his dad died, and he could never kick it away. On days like these it's soothing to have a cigarette to smoke and watch the stars or look at the trees.

It's now 10 PM Dack's cigarette has gone out and yet he still sits on the deck watching the trees. Not a sound comes out from them, rather unusual for a summer night. Dack turns around to go back inside. Yet before his eyes appear the most wondrous thing.

What could only be described as a large blue screen goes into Dack's eyes. On it the only words that appear are:


-SORRY-
Honestly, it was my bad it took a second for me to get all of you Pinnacles around into the system. You should notice that your system is quite... Well unique. Anyways. You guys are here to spice everything up for the people of Earth. I can't just have those clowns from The Gilded Isles mess everything up for me.

I guess I should say welcome! Your planet has been added to the great system! Honestly not such a good thing if you ask me. Soon and by soon I mean right about now, all sorts of energies from the Cosmic should filter into your world. Along with that energy you might get some other "visitors".

Don't worry. Humanity has been armed with a system. It allows magical powers! Incredible skills! Even new technology! I know so excited, I'm excited too but anyways. The name of the game is evolution everything in the system can evolve and I do mean everything so keep it in mind.

So that's it. Umm... Have fun? Try not to die. My name is the God of Writing and that's all folks!

-

At that Dack looked at the writing flabbergasted. However, he knew that he had to read it, whatever force that could make something like that work had to be ridiculously powerful, and in the words of Dack's father "Don't f*ck with someone who looks like they f*ck with everyone".

As soon as Dack finished reading the screen shifted to something very different:

-Patience System-
Name: Dack Martin
Race: Human
Stars Obtained: 0

Stats (The average human is a 10 in everything):
Strength: 8
Agility: 6
Intelligence: 10
Will: 15
Charisma: 4
Wisdom: 11
Personality: 14
*Patience: 100

Skills:
Biking: Lvl 4 Proficient
Swimming: Lvl 3 Average
Reading: Lvl 5 Skilled
Cooking: Lvl 2 Mediocre

System is a Patience system every hour that goes by all skill experience is multiplied by 1.01 and all stats are increased by 0.1. Additional abilities can be unlocked at higher levels.



*Marks a unique stat

"Holy sh*t the Earth has been invaded by all these creatures! Wtf why are there dragons. Why can he use magic!? Why is he cultivating?! Why can he now control the very fabric of the universe. And wtf is this system" -The Internet During the Fall


The world is coming to an end. All sorts of technology and gods and demons and all manner of other things are invading. All humans on Earth are given the System which catergorizes all of their actions much like a videogame. 12 individuals who each started with the strongest stat in one catergory get a special system and a special quest. "Fight! Kill! And take the systems of the other challengers." This is their story in... The System War!

My mum was a teacher of art but before she became a art teacher for elementary school she met my dad who was a wolf. They met up in collage together and dated and fell in love, that's what she told me but as far as I know I never knew my dad was really a wolf, nether did my mum she thought she was a ordinary man she met in collage and dated then married, but this is where our family's story starts. 

My dad was not working for a certain career unlike my mum who was into doing stuff with art that's when she met my dad. "Hello my name is Gene, I'm wondering if I could be your tutor for art if you let me," said my mum. My dad smiled. "Sure why not, I love to have tutor, it'll help me with my studies," he replied. "Thanks, what's your name again?" My mum asked. "James, my name is James," my dad answered. "Oh, James that's a handsome name," said my mum. "And your name Gene it a pretty name," my dad added. As the the months in my mum and dad's college went by they started dating, going out to eat, going to the movies, walking throughout campus, tutoring with their studies and going to the library and reading together. 

After their senior year together they decided to get married. They had a big wedding at a church where my grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, second cousins and my parents friends where all together for the wedding. The pope at the wedding told my mum and dad a promise that was soon to be a mistake. "Will you take this lovely couple stay with each other as long you both shall live?" He asked. "We do," both my parents said. "Then you my handsome groom shall kiss the bride," the pope continued. My dad smiled then my mum smiled,(I bet they looked really good in they wedding outfits) then they both kissed. 

It was nighttime when my mum and dad left the wedding to their new apartment in London England when it was a cool summer night and my dad suddenly stopped. "Uh, Gene I have to tell you something," he said. "What's that?" My mum said in a sweet tone in her voice. "I'm not normal," he continued. "How come? We went to college together, dated and just got married," she added. "No, I mean I'm different," my dad said. "Of course that's why I love you," my mum purred. "No just watch me," my dad went on. My mum watched my dad and watch she saw seemed almost unreal, his fingers where getting mangled, his face was getting longer, he grew a tail out from under his shirt and he was growing hair all over his face. My mum gasped. "Gene, I'm a wolf," my dad replied. "Th-this must be a bad dream, or a hallucination, James, wake me up your not a wolf!" My mum cried. My dad sighed with his wolffish face. "Yes, Gene your right your dreaming, it's not real, you'll wake up soon," he said softy as his wolf face transformed back into a man's. "Your right, I was just dreaming," she sighed with relief. The summer night air was warm and soft blowing through my mum's hair as it the air blew throughout the city of London. The bell to the big clock tower Big Ben bonged twelve times telling them both it was midnight. "Come on lets go home, it's way past our bedtime," he finished. 

My mum didn't know at all my dad was a wolf and even when she saw that vision, she knew it was all just a dream which my dad told her, or was it? As far as I know he just told my mum she was just dreaming of him being a werewolf in London so that she won't freak out if she really knew he really was a werewolf in London.

This is based in the My Little Pony universe and in our world in this story where a women named Adean transforms into a draconequus by two thugs after putting a red pendent around her neck, she gets captured and put in a lab hen enters Equestria and makes friends with the mane six and Spike the Dragon who help her to get humanity to appreciate her as a draconequus, will they succeed? Read to find out.

Gun-Ho usually came to work at his Korean restaurant at 9 AM.
All other staff arrived at the restaurant around 10 AM, and by 11:30 AM the restaurant was already ready to serve customers. When he ran his restaurant in Noryangjin, he had one kitchen lady working for him, so Gun-Ho had to handle various work himself. Here was different. Since the labor cost was low in China, he could hire eight workers. They all had their own role and work, so Gun-Ho didn't really have to work at all.
"There are four ladies working in the kitchen, and Dingming takes care of the counter. For the hall serving, Mae-Hyang Kim and other two ladies handle it. This is going great so far."
Gun-Ho usually sat at an unoccupied table and read a Chinese local newspaper. He particularly paid attention to articles about real estate. While he was reading a newspaper, he sometimes asked Mae-Hyang to translate the sentences he couldn't understand. There was another thing he did in the restaurant. Whenever Korean workers or Korean businessmen who had a business in China came to the restaurant in the evening, Gun-Ho was the one who served them. This job couldn't be delegated to the staff.
"Let's look around at West Lake today on a bike. It seems like they are building new luxurious apartments in Baochoolu area around West Lake. I want to see it."
The West Lake area was filled with tourists when Gun-Ho arrived on a bike. Gun-Ho had fun riding his bike there.
"Whoa, the residential community over there has a lot of luxurious single houses. They look like the houses in Seongbuk Town in Seoul. How much would they cost?"
Gun-Ho sometimes stopped his bike to eat street food. He ate Hotteock*, some other snacks and a bottle of water.
"Haha. The Chinese merchant understood my Chinese when I asked them how much it was."
 
After looking around at the West Lake area, Gun-Ho came back to his restaurant around 5 PM. There wasn't any customer for dinner yet. They would start coming in after one or two hours.
"Where is Mae-Hyang Kim?"
Gun-Ho looked around the hall and found Mae-Hyang having a meal with a lady at the table behind a column.
"Oh, G-jjong, you came back. This is my friend."
Mae-Hyang stopped eating when she saw Gun-Ho coming into the restaurant and introduced her friend who she was having a meal with to him.
"Hello."
Mae-Hyang's lady friend stood up to say hello to Gun-Ho.
"She is my hometown friend. She graduated from Jilin University and came to Hangzhou City to find a job."
"Oh, really? Enjoy your meal. Don't mind me, please."
Gun-Ho sat at another unoccupied table.
"Do we have an evening newspaper?"
Gun-Ho started reading the newspaper. Even though he couldn't speak Chinese, he could read a newspaper. Well, he at least could understand the big titles in the newspaper. If he saw something he couldn't understand, he would mark it and ask Mae-Hyang later. He was reading the newspaper when Mae-Hyang came to talk to him.
"Umm, G-jjong. Do you by any chance need Poodao?"
"Poodao?"
"A private tutor. For your Chinese language."
"Oh, there is a private tutor for the Chinese language?"
"Umm… my friend over there, she is staying with me right now. Once she finds a job, she will find her own place. She majored in Korean language in college. If you—G-jjong—need a private tutor, she can maybe teach you two hours a day. What do you say? She speaks Korean and Chinese very well. You can pay her 600 Yuan (72,000 won)."
"Hmm…"
"She has experience with teaching a Korean when she was in Shanghai. She is very good at it."
"Let me talk to her."
Mae-Hyang's friend came to Gun-Ho; she seemed to be shy.
"What's your name? I'm Gun-Ho Goo."
"I'm Eun-Hwa Jo. I am from Jilin."
"You are a Korean Chinese. Is it possible to get Poodao in the restaurant? The place could be distracting."
"That's totally fine. You can do it anywhere. This restaurant is cozy since it is a hotel restaurant and a perfect place to study."
"What time would be good for you?"
"I guess the mornings should be good since you won't have customers in the morning."
"Let's do it then. How about from 8 AM to 10 AM? The kitchen ladies will come to work at 10 AM."
"That sounds good. I agree with you."
 
Gun-Ho started having his private lesson from Eun-Hwa Jo on the following day.
Eun-Hwa had a very decent accent since she was from the north. She spoke the standard Chinese language. She also spoke Korean very well. Gun-Ho's Chinese improved notably.
"Eun-Hwa Jo is playing her role very well as a teacher. She is giving me a lot of homework."
Gun-Ho did his homework diligently. After completing the conversational Chinese book, Eun-Hwa brought the elementary textbooks used from 1st to 6th grade and started teaching Gun-Ho using them.
"Chinese children know about 3,000 Chinese characters once they graduate from elementary school. If you, G-jjong know the same, you won't have any problem reading a Chinese newspaper or magazine."
After two months, Gun-Ho started hearing and understanding simple Chinese.
 
It had been four months since Gun-Ho came to China.
Gun-Ho was doing well in China. It was summer already. It was really hot especially the southern area of Yangtze River. It felt like being inside an oven. However, Gun-Ho's restaurant was cool. Its air conditioner worked great since it was in the hotel building. Some of the restaurant staff stayed in the restaurant even after their work hours because the restaurant was cool and pleasant while their homes were really hot.
One day, Dingming came to Gun-Ho from the counter and said there was someone on the phone looking for him.
"Who is it?"
"He said that he is from Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, and he wants to talk to G-jjong."
Gun-Ho thought he wouldn't be able to converse through the phone with a bank with his level of Chinese language fluency. So he called for Mae-Hyang.
"Why don't you take the call for me?"
Mae-Hyang picked up the phone and told the person on the other side of the phone that she was the interpreter.
"The branch manager of Industrial and Commercial Bank of China would like to meet with you, G-jjong."
"Me? For what? Ask him when would it be convenient for us to meet?"
Mae-Hyang got back to Gun-Ho and told him what the branch manager had told her, "He is suggesting 12 PM tomorrow at the Pinghoo Chinese restaurant & bar around the West Lake area."
"It's not difficult to meet with him. Tell him that I will be there."
 
The following day, Gun-Ho went to the Pinghoo restaurant & bar with his interpreter, Mae-Hyang. He took a taxi instead of his bike because he thought it was not appropriate to show to a bank's branch manager.
"I guess I will have to rent a car or something when I meet people like this."
The Pinghoo bar was huge. When they told the bar that they were the guests of Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, the staff in Qipao led them to the second floor. It was a private room with the West Lake view through the window. The view made Gun-Ho feel cool. The branch manager and others with him were already in the room waiting for Gun-Ho. The branch manager looked like he was in his late 40s. He was with two other female bank staff who both looked like in their 30s.
"I'm sorry that I am late. I'm Gun-Ho Goo."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Jangbingchao from Industrial and Commercial Bank of China."
Gun-Ho gave him his business card that said, 'CEO of Mando Food Co., Ltd.'. He also gave it to the two other staff as well. The branch Manager handed over his business card to Gun-Ho. His business card said 'President' instead of 'Branch Manager.'
"President? The president of the bank came here from Beijing headquarters?"
Mae-Hyang took a look at the business card, and said,
"That means a branch manager. In China, we refer to a branch manager as a president."
"Oh, really?"
Gun-Ho smiled bitterly once he understood the meaning of the president.
 
 
Note*
Hotteock – A popular street food that is similar to a pancake that has sweet fillings.

This is the story of a poor young man whose poverty even shreds apart their family willing to climb his way through society and into the top. A very realistic novel that moves away from fantasy and sci-fi and focuses solely on the issues of society and life.

The joust had been a little disappointing. There was very little action but the wet ground did not favor the spectacle. There were no deaths to report in his camp, which remained the main in the eyes of Moa. The coalesced probably held a little advantage in the scoring, but the margin, directly proportional to the material damage inflicted was thin after this first joust.
For the general public, mainly made up of laymen, there was no blood, which greatly limited the interest. For the civil audience, with this kind of joust, the impression deeply depended of the professionalism of the commentators.
Moa himself had not lost a crumb of this game. Admittedly, the two troops of pilots were neutralized but from a tactical point of view, it remained interesting. He had commented on the most sensitive actions with his colleagues and had participated in the fit of temper manifestations and insults intended for the referee.
Thinking back at the events, he had a smile.
Moa liked the first joust very much. It was certainly one of the reasons that led him to join the third regiment. It was rarely unfavorable to the coalesced which usually held the advantage. So, except abnormal conditions like that of 'the tragedy of badly inflated tires', the number of dead wasn't high. Even if there were usually dead, because a risky maneuver was rarely as smooth as on the paper, the dead were isolated from each other and easy to count.
For him, the first joust was the perfect opportunity to enter in his own job. He usually could afford the time to inspect precisely the field, identifying trapping places on the ground such as potholes or small stones which could put his colleagues in difficulty in the following jousts.
There was a small break between each joust. First of all, evacuating the field required a few minutes. There were hundreds of soldiers and their equipment and even if the maneuver was perfectly oiled, predetermined paths were established to smooth the withdrawal movements and training exercises were conducted regularly, the operation still required three to four minutes. In addition, it should not hinder the arrival of the troops engaged in the next joust.
Secondly, some adjustments were still necessary on the battlefield, such as picking up the bodies of the dead, the wounded who could no longer move on their own, picking up abandoned equipment, sanding off traces of oil, other hydrocarbons, brake fluid, cooling, body fluid that could jeopardize the holding of the following jousts.
Third, followers were in demand for this break, which allowed them to advertise. In the car management, the editors were already producing the clips summarizing the first joust. The special envoys tried to approach the soldiers who had distinguished themselves the most to collect their hot impressions. The polemicists sharpened their viper tongues which would animate the controversial debates to come.
For Moa, this break was snack-time. Moa had a rapid metabolism, which was good because he didn't get fat, but he had to eat much. His breakfast, even if a large meal wasn't enough for him to wait until lunch time.
This snack was not very elaborate. The night before, he used to make a sandwich, two slices of whole-meal bread, 6 mm thick, buttered with margarine because too much high-cholesterol animal fat could eventually clog his arteries under the shape of an atheromatous plaque, a slice of turkey ham, and raw vegetables of season. Slow sugars, lipids, animal proteins, vegetable fibers, quick sugars, water… in a sandwich a significant part of its daily nutritional requirements were met.
All that was missing was a dairy product, which he filled with a brick of pasteurized cow's milk flavored with chocolate. Was it that of a mare, too expensive, that of goat, too strong in taste, that of coconut, without interest in calcium intake, that of soybean, endocrine disruptor, that of sheep, prohibited in coalesced lands because it was natural resource for 2P2M countries and among them was the Grenati's country, the only milk he consumed was cow's milk. He was aware that man was the only mammal to consume milk after weaning, in addition milk from another species, but it was inconvenient to bring his mother to the front, especially since she no longer produced milk for a very long time. And why chocolate?, because he liked it and just that eating should always remain a pleasure.
The moped squadron was still congratulating itself and greeted its opponent. It was a tradition more than a rule, it was off-camera and the pause was long enough. So after a good fight, it was of custom to greet your opponent, as even if it was war, an enemy soldier was still a human being, with a mom, a dad, sometime a lover and children, at least for those who were lucky enough to still have a family.
At this moment, the rain started to fall again. It was not as heavy downpour as the one that fell earlier but it was sufficient to wet people. Moa still hadn't finished his snack and followed the other officers under a cramped shed. On the battlefield, the formalities were put aside and they then quickly left to take refuge in the changing rooms.
Under the shed, Moa could finish his snack. An officer spoke, they should consider building covered stands, their comfort and efficiency in their mission would improve. The speech was greeted by a round of applause, it seemed everybody agreed.
As the downpour intensified, the little hardworking hands, anonymous because not having the right to glitter from the televisions, were busy on the battlefield. The match had been calm, cheerfully, there was not too much to do. Their role was fundamentally but they remained the great forgotten of this conflict.
The actors of the second joust couldn't stay under shelter and they had to approach the battlefield. It was now the turn of the motor-bikes. The second joust of the morning was imminent.
…
Motor-bike jousts were not like the one on a moped. Just by looking at the characteristics of the equipment, it was obvious that the physical qualities of the pilots were different.
If the mopeds were pushed by a two-stroke engine, the only real physical effort being starting, the motor-bikes used a small electric motor recharged by muscular effort on the pedals. The average morphology of the soldier participating in the first game was often smaller, more agile and less muscular in the thighs, but nevertheless chunky enough to lower the center of gravity of the pilot-machine couple, favoring stability during rapid maneuvers.
The motor-bikes were piloted by soldiers of various morphologies, often more threadlike, lighter but powerful in the legs. The electric motor was an important assistance when it was necessary to climb a hill, from where a less strict requisition than for the bicycles, but the efforts remained important. Power and endurance were the qualities demanded during this type of joust.
It was especially the case when the front was always moving. It was not rare that the ground had a slope, and in these cases, it was necessary to be very clever to assign the good soldiers in the good team. Today that the front was fixed in a region without notable relief, it was of less importance.
Piloting a motor-bike was not the major factor. The talent was secondary to the physique. The result was often dictated by who was stronger; the tactics, the environmental conditions, the game intelligence, the overall vision, it was not what dictated the result of the joust.
Physical condition had never been the strong point of the third regiment. The beefy were more willingly sent to the southern fronts. In addition, the coalesced did not possess an effective detection program. Admittedly an early detection policy in elementary school was in place, but the training took years, and then the children also took years to reach the age they could fight. These promising programs could only take effect in three years, when the first promotion from early detection would be of age to be sent to be killed.
In the meantime, the coalesced usually suffered this second joust. This had always been the case, even in the early years of the war, when everything was going well. The gap between the coalesced and their enemy had widened since the massive arrival of money from the Grenati family.
The latter had recruited several former professional teams and especially their medical and pharmaceutical staff. Faced with these athletes, the coalesced team suffered from the comparison.
It was rare for Moa that his counter did not display a two-digit number after this joust.
Moa glanced at those who were about to die and still saluted their superiors. He still had a task to do and knowing a little more before the start was never bad.
Normally, this joust being the least profitable for the coalesced, they tended to send unwanted people in the army.
The third regiment received a lot of mails on daily basis. On those mails, many people complained because it was fun to complain. One of the main complains was about the immersion into TV programs. They said that the program was immersive enough only if they could find familiar faces in teams. Seeing a familiar face surviving a joust was delightful it brighten their day, seeing him dying made their emotion overwhelm. The impact was not the same if they saw perfect unknown soldiers that changed each day. They couldn't be emotionally attached to strangers.
So the executive couldn't cut, reading day after day the same complains was tiring and they decided to put a permanent team of a few soldiers whose role was i) staying alive, ii) coordinate the others, iii) being handsome and appealing for advertising purpose. As their role was important, they were entitled to a bonus and a few benefits in kind, including the privilege of not queuing at the mess.
The number was made of the scraps of the army. Sentenced for x reason, x being improper behavior, insubordination, refusal to share his dessert at the mess, crime of dirty mouth, in short more or less serious crimes. To this waste were added a few veterans whose survival instinct was too developed and who were starting to cost the army a little dear.
The rain was falling onto the incessant line of soldiers. Normally, the squad was not very large. Often, to limit casualties to their bare minimum, it only contain the minimum of soldiers the army had to send according to the rules, with a margin of error of five percent because it was necessary to take this margin if a problem arose. There were penalties when an insufficient number of soldiers were sent in a joust and those penalties were prohibitive. They were financial, and the army could not afford it.
One day, the coalesced had attempted to send a single soldier who was killed in seconds. The outcry that followed had been immense; the previous penalty had not been dissuasive enough, so the implementation of astronomic fines. Never again, it had been the reasoning of the FWJ, a large fine, corresponding to the loss of profit of the television channels broadcasting live had been decided, and certain channels tended to artificially inflate their losses.
Today there were many, too many soldiers. The strategists had prepared something. It was certainly the reason why the briefing had dragged on that morning. Many of these soldiers were normally part of the squad that participated in the third game. Moa recognized many of them, knew a few, including one of these neighbors, who owned an apartment in the same residence as him.
After having taken shelter in his dressing room, Pom reappeared. The ads were over and the attention of the world was returned to the jousts. He was wearing a pink anorak with a hood. The rain could permeate the cotton of his regulatory jacket and it would have hampered his movements.
The whistle blew. The second game started.
The start of the motor-bikes was not comparable to that of the mopeds, much less spectacular, at least in Moa's eyes.
As soon as the kick-off was given, the Grenati army set in motion. The coalesced did not even have time to enter into formation when a first wave swept over them. Moa knew well the jousts and the various formations the teams played in and he was surprised not to recognize the one used at this moment. New formation, innovation, this was not frequent. So, the coalesced were not the only ones who wanted to surprise their opponents...
Tonight it was certain that special programs would analyze the tactics of the Grenati. This would allow the coalesced to make adjustments and to adapt but for the moment, they had to trust the collective intelligence of the team in place to cope.
Its intelligence was not very high however and quickly, the right flank was destabilized and a breach was opened.
Moa knew his counter was going to be opened.
Could another outcome have been expected? No, it was impossible. There was an inherent flaw in the motor-bike team, its turnover which did not allow attaining cohesion, a collective understanding that more experienced teams, over the course of the innumerable jousts, managed to approach. It was not improvised in a single joust, on the job.
One of the permanent members of the team was however quick to react, and he began to mobilize the right flank in a retreat maneuver. The order was unfortunately not well interpreted by one of the soldiers; a new renegade according to Moa and the latter did not do the right maneuver and collided with two of his teammates. The ground was made slightly slippery by the rain and even if the soldier managed to keep control of his motor-bike and returned to the ranks, the other two were not so lucky.
The fall in itself was not severe. The speed was moderate and the concussions in this kind of situation were generally limited to a few bruises and the skin burned at the level of the forearms. The two motor-bikes were intertwined on the ground. The front wheel of one of the machines saw its spokes broken and come to intersect with those of the rear wheel of the other motor-bike.
The situation was becoming critical. One of the two unfortunates started to run but instead of heading towards his camp, he faced the Grenati troops. He shouted 'carrot' well in the hope of stopping the assault which was heading towards him but in vain. This rule was only in effect during the first joust.
At the same time, a detachment of the Grenati assault team took advantage of this diversion to leave the main body and to isolate a pilot who was hesitant to go and help his two comrades.
It was a fairly common tactic but a feint that only worked on the least experienced soldiers. As the coalesced squad included many of these rookies, it worked every time.
Moa hated this tactic, resulting in two hot spots in two different places. Despite a vain intensive training in the hope of developing exotropia, so that one eye could target a different place independently of the other, certainly losing the depth of vision but allowing him to know what is going on, he nevertheless still could not focus his gaze on two separate locations.
Moa squinted, a sign that his level of attention was increasing. He knew that the probability that this action would result in one or even several deaths increased as the Grenati troops progressed. Furthermore, despite the efforts of the team's permanent staff, the fall had somewhat disorganized the defense line and part of the troops was under threat of encirclement.
Under these conditions, the encirclement would result in a massacre and not forgetting a dead person would be a miracle, even for Moa.
On the battlefield, the soldier who had rushed towards the Grenati troops had returned to himself and blaming his color blindness, he had turned around and ran towards the sideline to request a substitution. His partner, who had fallen with him, managed to untangle the two motor-bikes and pedaled hard to join his forces. Estimating their relative speeds, he would not succeed.
In a few seconds, and unless there was a miracle, the next day's funeral oration would find its first name to honor.
At that moment, no one had noticed it yet, but a coalesced pilot was crossing the maneuvering field at full speed, at least the maximum speed that a motor-bike could reach. Standing on his pedals, as a dancer as the intelligentsia of cycling said, electric motor at full capacity, he had left his position and was heading towards the fallen soldier who had then climbed back on his motor-bike.
Moa was one of the first to see him. The scene had escaped his scope, which was not very professional but nobody would have blamed him in this case. Then, little by little, everyone came to the realization that he was there, teammates who encouraged him, enemies who were trying to end his mad race.
The projectiles began to fly all around him, like a cloud of small annoying insects, a summer evening, when they were flying around you. The pilot did not care; if they had been real insects, he would have swallowed a few; he wouldn't have made the effort to get rid of them with a wave of his hand. But they were not insects but projectiles and their path left no doubt about their target. It buzzed all around his ears but it was like he couldn't hear them. His gaze was fixed on his target, his colleague a short distance from him.
Moa recognized his neighbor, Harry Cover. Harry was a friendly neighbor, although not very close to him, they greeted each other when they crossed paths.
His motor-bike finally managed to disrupt the progress of the pursuit launched against the coalesced soldier. Harry forked and managed to take the wheel of the latter, benefiting of the aspiration to catch his breath and at the same time serving as a human shield. After a few meters, he accelerated and ordered his colleague to make a small effort to shelter from the wind and thus he carried him in the main body of his troops.
At the same time, it was the Grenati soldiers who found themselves disorganized and their surrounding maneuver failed.
There was one last hot spot and the lone soldier did not have the luck of his colleagues.
No one had yet come to his rescue. The only ones around him were Grenati soldiers who raped him on the top of the head with a sharp blow, followed by a side blow that quickly disjoined at least two cervical joints. He thus displayed morphology incompatible with normal human physiology. The spinal cord was broken clean, blood spilled from his cranium, he convulsed twice before falling, his eyes closing despite his spam.
He was dead.
It was a clean death as Moa preferred them. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if a soldier was really dead, pretending to be dead, or just being seriously injured and in a comatose state.
Because of their equipment, especially the different protective gears, it was difficult to recognize a slight breath from an absence of breath. And training well, a soldier could hold his breath for a certain time and Moa had no leisure to observe it for too long, at the risk of missing other events of the battle.
For Moa, the best way to tell if a soldier was still breathing was to watch his nostrils. The blood which did not fail to accumulate around these orifices was disturbed by the flow of inspired or exhaled air and the muscles around reacted subtly, even when the soldier tried to hold his breath. Still it was necessary that his face was discernible from the position of Moa, and for once, it was, and the distance separating him from the body of the deceased did not require any particular effort to conclude on his situation as a corpse.
Moa's counter displayed one.

Imagine a world where roller shutters is the promising area publicized by royalty. Imagine a world where Mikado and trunk throwing are the king-sports, moving and electrifying crowds. Imagine a world where beautiful mechanics are revered. Imagine a world where a butterfly wing-flap may or may not cause a downpour on the other side of the world. Imagine a world where the fundamental freedom is to wipe your backside with fleece triple-ply toilet paper in pure fir-wood.
Well, as perfect as it can be, this world is at war.
After several years of conflict, Moa, a non-commissioned officer, got up that morning to go to report...

"J-j-jungkook?" I said while looking at the man infront of me.

"Yes?"

"Are you really, Jeon Jungkook of BTS?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, I'm Jeon Jungkook the golden maknae of BTS. Do I know you?" because of what he said my heart broke into million pieces.

"Ahm..."

"Hey! Faith, let's go the bus may leave!" my bestfriend, Hailey said and then she grab my hand and run.

I did not even answer the question that Jungkook asked but when my bestfriend and I ran he seems to be shocked.

+++++++

I don't know if how I become a fan of BTS, but one thing for sure I'm just an elementary student when I started idolizing them. Oh, before this story start I just wanted you to know who am I.

Hello, my name is Alec Valerie Arceo, Ava for short. I live in the Philippines, while my idols live in South Korea. I'm a fan of BTS or Bangtan Sonyeondan/Behind The Scene/Bulletproof Boy Scout since I was 9 years old. I am the eldest child in my family, that's why sometimes if I want something it took me some time to have it. When I started idolizing some foreign celebrities and groups I started to study harder so that my parents would be amazed and also so that they would support as a fangirl.
Years had past my parents supported me as a fangirl, but because of the life that we had it is hard to reach my dreams, like seeing Bangtan, going to South Korea, and meeting them in person. My parents worked harder so that they could give us great life, and I could not do nothing but to study hard and help them on their light duties. I balanced studying and working, at our school I am an achiever.
Since I am an achiever on our school and many knew me because of my writing and editing skills, many had offer me to became an editor at their publishing corporation but I said "no" because I thought that If I accepted those offers I would not have enought time for myself.
But then one day, on a summer day a my dream publishing incorporation a famous book publishing incorporation contacted me and asked me if I could write stories for them. It took me days tl decide but yeah, as what they expected I said "yes".
Months had pass and I become an unknown successful author, some of my stories even won an awards. I even joined an application, a reading application that is famous all over the world to share my stories for free, because I knew that some of the readers does not have enought money to buy a book. And because some of them can afford to buy my books, the money that they paid to buy my books become my income and I don't that is enought to fulfill my dreams, and also my parents dream so I decide to be a vlogger also.
A vlogger is also being paid if the video that they make is good, and because of my editing skills it helped me also to have an extra income. I did not only made that because of money I also made that because I think it is the easiest way to be notice by my idols.

It was a scary number. Plus, this was only the group discussing online. There was still the offline audience to consider.
After some careful thinking, everyone was cheered up by the news.
Their PR agency also sent them the results of their large-scope audience survey.
Gender Ratio: 2:8
Age range: 14-34
It was the target group they had been aiming at! Everyone was excited about the details. This meant that CW’s program was popular! It would be a big source of money!
"We should get a bottle of champagne to celebrate!"
"No!" Tyra Banks was the most prudent person in the room. "Let’s leave the celebration for tomorrow, when we get the audience ratings of all the TV stations all over the country."
"Yes! Champagne only costs 19 dollars. I bought one from the supermarket downstairs. If we get good audience ratings, I’ll wear my Karl Lagerfeld. It will go well with the occasion!"
"That's it! A fashionable outfit designed by a famous designer and a classic Dom Perignon!"
The man seemed wild with joy.
Everyone was celebrating in advance, except Qin Guan, who was stupefied.
The team was so cunning. They had included some unnecessary, controversial scenes in the episode in order to attract attention. Soon, the netizens were divided into different camps. The contestants who hadn’t made the cut nearly threw their remote controls away. The whole world had seen them complain, curse and quarrel!
I will die of embarrassment...
 Meanwhile, Qin Guan was thinking about something else. After his audition at Paramount the next day, the new semester would begin. He had become a celebrity during summer vacation, but what would he do when he faced his rigid professors again?
He shivered at the thought. Cong Nianwei misunderstood his behavior and tried to comfort him. "This is a reality show. You didn't have any accidents during filming, so you don't need to worry..."
Your concern is misplaced, but I’m still touched...
An air-conditioner could ease the scorching summer heat, but nothing could ease their fast, nervous heartbeats.
The chief executive producer was sitting in his large chair. There was a bottle of champagne in the drawer of his desk. He had had hundreds of rounds in his office since early in the morning.
Suddenly, his phone rang. He pressed the handsfree button and heard the sweet voice of his assistant.
"Good morning, Mr. William. What can I do for you?"
"I’m still waiting for the audience ratings."
"Wait a minute, I’ll check for you again..."
She hung up with a sigh. I’m busy today! Why is he so nervous? He has called me five times in the last 20 minutes!
Fanny sighed helplessly. Putting on her most professional smile, she got up and headed to the technical department again.
"Come in, Fanny!" Winnie shouted at her. "Here is the form you were waiting for. Take it to your director as soon as possible!"
"Thanks!"
Fanny left with the form immediately. In one minute, William had gotten what he wanted. The numbers were clear right away.
Top News Programs
CBS Evening News: 57 million viewers
ABC Radio and Television, Good Morning, United States: 50 million 10 thousand viewers
NBC Radio and Television, Today: 43 million viewers
Ranking List of Entertainment Programs
Here it is!
WWE, American Professional Wrestling: 37 million viewers
Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show: 29 million viewers
FOX, American Idol: 20 million viewers
CW, America’s Next Top Model: 13 million viewers
Fourth place! There were five large TV stations in America, as well as hundreds of local, private and satellite stations. Each of them had unique features that supported their formal operations.
As a new competitor in the arena, CW had placed fourth on the list! The whole world would join in the fun now.
Besides, the top two programs were classic shows with a large audience. It made sense that a new program would lose to them.


Qin Guan was reborn and sent back to his final semester in High School 18 years ago. Getting a second chance at life, he works hard to turn things around and eventually become a Prince Charming. What will his life be like the second time around? What will he have to go through? How will he succeed in turning from a loser into a Prince Charming? Read this story carefully and find out!

elementary summer reading programs

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Granting You a Second Life

The Ultimate System War

The Chaos Pendent

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Moa, counter

My Fangirl Story

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