"Hmph!"
Qi Tongwei's lips twisted into a snarl colder than Siberian frost, a smile resembling the "Manjusaka" flower that blooms on the path to hell's netherworld—crimson as blood, eerie and elegiac.
"Hou Liangping!" His voice cracked like a bullet striking body armor. "Don't you dare hide behind the banner of 'In the Name of the People'—you possess neither the qualification nor the worthiness to sit in judgment of me!"
"Had Heaven not birthed Qi Tongwei, the police world would wander in eternal night!" The declaration thundered through the air like a death knell.
"My life's choices require no man's validation!"
"Even in death, who dares claim the right to judge my fate?"
"Farewell... Hou Liangping."
"The duel of fate had begun."
"They mocked me for wedding a matron to enshrine in my home...
Thus I fought tooth and nail, clawing back my shattered dignity through blood and steel!"
"Had I married Zhong Xiao'ai instead, would destiny have spun a kinder thread?"
"A hollow laugh. How cruel that Life remains the sternest poet—never rhyming with 'what ifs'..."
Qi Tongwei's leaden eyelids descended like stage lights dimming on tragedy's final act.
The requiem faded.
Left only the echoes of remorse resonating through eternity's theater.
Perhaps...
The memory flooded back with cruel clarity—
On the sports field, that damned kneeling courtship scene...
Liang Lu stood regal as a Byzantine empress, her voice dripping aristocratic venom:
"Your pretty words mean nothing. Prove your love on your knees."
"Let your bones grind concrete, then I might reconsider our... arrangement."
Her laughter tinkled like poisoned wind chimes, reveling in the sweet nectar of conquest.
"Only when your knees kiss concrete!" She twirled her father's political scepter like a circus ringmaster.
"Father's connections could make you soar—provincial powerbroker today, Beijing's golden boy tomorrow."
Liang Lu—
Sole heiress to Liang Qunfeng's gilded cage of privilege (Party Secretary of Handong Province, overlord of Political-Legal Affairs).
Her crimson stilettos crushing ambition's rose petals into the dirt.
"Yet what transformed my destiny wasn't knowledge—it was the alchemy of power."
Thus unfolded the infamous scene on Handong University's asphalt altar—
A kneeling proposal that shook academia to its core...
No scent of chivalric romance in those decomposing roses,
No tenderness in that knee grinding into gravel.
Only the death rattle of a once-proud soul's prostration before the throne of power.
But now—
Qi Tongwei, Requiem reborn!
The "what if" dream soldered into reality's scripture!
Through some cosmic jest, the wheel of fate had shattered...
With steel in his veins, Qi Tongwei resolved to claim Zhong Xiao'ai as his strategic conquest.
The scholar's quill shattered—now his pen would be the bayonet.
In the prime of his martial glory, this blade-sharp incarnation of ambition
Weaved his strategic courtship with Special Forces precision.
"Let the rice of consummation cook first," he plotted, "then pave the road with battlefield laurels."
Promotion through valor → Distinguished discharge → Political chessboard deployment.
With Zhong as his human chess-piece and military credentials as his scepter,
The Byzantine corridors of power would swing open like saluting sentries.
As for Liang Lu—that marital relic from another timeline—
His soul registered neither pulse nor tremor.
Cold as a decommissioned artillery shell.
When the amphitheater of spectators (his "beloved" alumni) leaned forward like Roman patricians awaiting gladiatorial submission—
All breath held for Qi Tongwei's inevitable genuflection before Liang Lu's imperial vanity...
A glacial blade of defiance flashed across his face.
That infamous line, once spewed through gritted teeth—
"Your sagging flesh alone makes my stomach churn!"—
Danced on his tongue like live ammunition.
Yet this reborn strategist chose psychological warfare over frontal assault.
His bow came not from the waist, but as an arctic eclipse darkening his gaze:
"Professor Liang, shouldn't true power..." (the pause cut deeper than any blade)
"...be earned through merit rather than extorted through ancestral privilege?"