I was the heroine of an erotic novel.
Right in the middle of a passionate encounter, I suddenly landed in a chaste historical romance.
At that very moment, its male leads had lured me—the expendable supporting character—out to avenge their beloved.
They wanted to teach me a lesson.
Someone shoved me to the ground, and I couldn’t help letting out a little moan.
The man who’d been snarling at me a second earlier abruptly turned red at the tips of his ears.
“Ning Wan, what was that noise?!”