Foul Heart Huntsman (Foul Lady Fortune, #2)
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Read between August 14 - August 31, 2024
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This weapon was a family heirloom. And Jiemin was certainly not of that family. Right?
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“You don’t have to keep calling me that. I give you full permission to defy cultural terms of respectful fake kinship and use my name.”
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Those matters were not loathed in equal amounts, of course, but she was peeved enough to be silently fuming about everything at once anyway.
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“ ‘What we need,’” she read aloud from one of the papers plastered to the windows, “ ‘is a way to build morale. We as the Chinese must dust ourselves off and stand up straight or else we will end this decade conquered.’” The Nationalists wouldn’t send her after Orion because her identity had been exposed and she was too recognizable as Fortune. Fine. Rosalind would show them just how recognizable Lady Fortune was.
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Merde. It was as if she had summoned him by thought. Then again, she was thinking about him constantly with steam blowing out of her ears, so by mere statistics, it made sense that one of the instances would coincide with him actually showing up.
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“You know, Oliver”—Celia slapped her hand down, leaning forward—“it is really hard to provoke my temper, but somehow you are incredibly good at it.” The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I have missed you quite fiercely.”
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He hadn’t told her much about his continued work trying to draw Priest out into the open. But there was a letter addressed to Priest waiting in his pocket. Phoebe knew this because she was Priest.
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Jiemin, after a few seconds, seemed to realize that telling her off was not only a lost cause but embarrassing for both of them.
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The people mob out into the streets. A push deserves a shove, does it not? A scream demands a battle cry, does it not?
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So far she had been adhering to her usual answers—she rather enjoyed slamming the concept of imperialism anyway, so it was far from an unenjoyable job.
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vacuous
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Phoebe was… He didn’t even know how to describe Phoebe. An ever-expanding supernova. A hurricane that changed worlds and remade them.
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Fortune. It’s just Fortune—my goodness, where did this Lady ever come from?
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He was poised for attack, and yet her aching heart could only circle around Oh, he’s here. Oh, he’s—about to stab her.
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“You are nobody.” “Excuse me?” A wave of irrational anger overrode the pain of her landing. “I am your wife.”
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Holy shit. She was seeing ghosts. The woman yanked the square of fabric off her face. “Biǎojiě,” Juliette Cai said, grinning. “Don’t you recognize me anymore?” Rosalind released her shoulder, losing all feeling in her fingers. Before she could say a thing in reply, she crumpled to the ground.
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What is love if you are not cared for in return? It doesn’t matter how thoroughly you choose it.”
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“I would have found you anywhere.” He reached forward. Tugged that piece of her hair, then tucked the curl behind her ear. “Across the world and under it. No matter how well you hide. It doesn’t matter where you go. I’ll always find you. Understand?”
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When there is only miles upon miles of greenery, it’s easy for ice to curl in and out to its leisure, latching where it wishes, undisturbed until the season changes.
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The land here knew that war was coming again before the rest of the city did—or maybe it was wise enough to remember that war had never left.
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Phoebe felt like she was using him. Well, she was. That part was unquestionable. Friendship consisted of reciprocally using each other with love, after all.
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Section 6: Jiang Lei—SERAMORINE: A HYPOTHESIS ON BLOOD MUTATIONS AND GENETIC TRANSMISSION
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… The invention of seramorine will change our understanding of mortality and humanity as we have come to know it. Science itself as a practice will have to re-shape entirely if we are to pursue utterly revolutionary findings that could defy death….
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She had changed her blood to host something strange, turning it into an ingredient for a concoction she would soon create. Then she had only needed the next component: the blood of her offspring, carrying her altered genetics.
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“I’m going to save you, and then I’m going to kill you. Cut you into tiny chunks. I’ll feed you to the fish.”
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“Those two are backstory. Forget about them.” “Ouch,” Roma said at the door. “We’re sensitive,” Juliette added.
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“It was nice to be asked, actually,” she whispered in defeat. “It was nice to be all that you needed, even if it was for one moment, for one decision regarding a mere tie.”
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I performed investigation on Lady Hong. She turns soldiers immortal with “seramorine,” produced only by mutated gene found in human blood. Cannot be stabilized unless two types of blood present: original and genetically diversified offspring. She gave the original to herself. I read her research thesis from start to finish, and she describes an offspring’s seramorine supply to be limited. Hong Liwen should be reaching the limits of his use. By the description of its presentation, Hong Feiyi doesn’t have the gene. She will be coming after you next if she is to finish her research and make the ...more
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Orion considered the matter for a moment. “Are you trying to scare me on purpose?” Roma frowned. “No, of course not.” “If you scare me, I do think it might help. Your eyes are so piercing that I can feel my heart rate picking up, and it’s sharpening my thinking—”
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“It’s always social calls.” Mrs. Wu made a quick tsk. “You are getting too old for such frequent outings without intention, Lian Lian.” Silas blinked. “Māma, I’m only eighteen.” “Yes, marriage age.”
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Lady Hong’s thesis had been clear. Carriers of the changed gene had accelerated heartbeats, at a degree unnatural to the ordinary person. Phoebe’s was perfectly normal. She had taken her own pulse multiple times, going as far as to ask Ah Dou to count too, and they had both concluded the same.
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Ought I apologize before I start speaking in case you get angry at me later?” “That’s for you to worry about later. What’s the bad news?”
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“Better to be broken up with by an assassin before a real lover. It’s like a practice run.”
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Celia’s expression turned incredulous, as if she were being addressed by a rock that had grown a mouth to speak rock thoughts.
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“Children,” Celia interrupted, “if we are finished flirting with each other, may we discuss the small change in plans?” Alisa giggled. Rosalind knitted her brows together, feeling rather unjustly accused. “I was not flirting—” “I was.” Orion adjusted in his seat again,
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“The bathtub wasn’t a good bed?” “It was a beautiful bed. The best bed I’ve ever slept in.” “Wow. That’s high praise when you’ve slept in so many.”
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“Even if the memories never come back,” he said slowly, “I’m going to love you again. I have decided to warn you in advance.”
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yóutiáo
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sǎozi.”
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sǎozi
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“I have an idea.” She paused. “You won’t like it though, Celia.” Celia raised her eyebrows. “All right, then, I don’t want to hear it—” “We should cause an outright melee,” Alisa went on as if Celia hadn’t answered her.
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“You’ve stolen my line. I was about to say that to you.” “I have claimed it. Find something else.”
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“Alisa…,” Rosalind warned. “Yes, Miss Lang?” Rosalind pulled away from Orion fully, plucking a pin from her hair and wielding it like an axe. “How dare you mock an assassin? I will have you answer for your crimes—”
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Some people fight for the nation, her mother had said. We fight for ourselves.
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Rosalind and Celia may as well start taking turns on whose mission partner went missing.
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“Hold my hand,” Alisa huffed from ahead, extending her arm. “What? Why?” Despite her confusion, Rosalind reached out anyway and grabbed Alisa’s hand. “Do you see something?” “No.” They hurtled past the next hallway. “I’m offering emotional support.”
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War isn’t a place for heroes, Rosalind. War is a place for survival until those above us have tired us out.”
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The attitude she had possessed before grew legs and slipped away, scrambling out the window and out of sight.
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I will love you if I please. I will make you my altar, I’ll put you above everything else in this world, I’ll revel in every morsel you are made of. It’s simple—just tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll let you go. But I won’t accept anything else. I won’t accept your refusal on the make-believe grounds of our work.”
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Oliver, I love you. I love you so much that I would die if you did, and that’s precisely the problem.
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