Beautiful Wife from Heaven: Mr. Qi, Let’s Get Married - Chapter 171 - : Let Her Have A Good Rest

Some say he is the bad apple in a basket, that he’s rotting everything around him with disgrace and corruption.

Some say he is the biggest scum of the South Zhanbu Continent, that he’s colluding with the dark sects to cheat, steal, and commit all manner of atrocities.

Some say he is the most wanted playboy. “Lock your daughters at home to keep Fang Xing away!”

To all of those people, “That’s right, I am that big rotten apple. Any problem with that?”

This brand of anti-hero is a young orphan with poor prospects and nothing more than the keepsakes of his uncles. He plots, schemes, and orchestrates all manner of villainy in his quest for power and revenge, unafraid to live precariously and make enemies out of those he really should not.

- Description from Novelupdates

Four years ago, Mu Xueyi and Zhou Zhenyue broke up.
Four years later, a news exploded in the business world, and President Zhou committed suicide by jumping off the building because he couldn’t let go of his old relationship.
Mu Xueyi thought she didn’t like Zhou Zhenyue, the Zhou family and the Mu family were incompatible business rivals. And when she approached Zhou Zhenyue, she was only forced by her father to be an undercover agent, cooperating with Mu Shi to steal business secrets.
Her father stole the document, and her and Zhou Zhenyue’s fate would naturally come to an end.
But……
It wasn’t until Zhou Zhenyue jumped off the building for her that she suddenly understood why she was so sad after breaking up.
It turned out that she had long liked Zhou Yuyue.
So Mu Xueyi resolutely crashed and died on Zhou Zhenyue’s tombstone.
She originally thought of Jiuquanxia and Zhou Zhenyue saying “I like you” that she never said.
Unexpectedly, I closed my eyes and opened my eyes,
Reborn to a year ago.
That is – the third year of their separation.
? ? ?
She seemed to see God, this bastard, smiling meanly at her:
Dear, your very familiar crematorium is in place~

[Gentle President Attack x Little White Flowers in the Early Stage, Blackening and Crazy Criticism of Beauty in the Late Stage]
-Ending HE
– Suffering from hardships, not slag
-The two heroines are not mine, but they are not perfect saints
– The above attack refers to the character, the essence is mutual attack
– Background default same-sex marriageable
– Anti-theft ratio is 100%

Content tags: Urban love, broken mirror, reunion, love contract, rebirth
Search keywords: protagonist: Zhou Zhenyue, Mu Xueyi ┃ Other:
One-sentence introduction: Running for a while, chasing his wife in the crematorium
Concept: The best way to love someone is sincerity, not deception

- Description from novelbuddy

A terrible calamity has fallen onto Zhang Fan, not only becoming one of the three survivors of Grass Temple Village, where everyone else was horribly massacred, he was also tasked to carry one of the most evil artifacts, the Sinister Bead, and taught one of the most secret teachings of the Skysong Sect, the Brahmin Wisdom. Now he cultivates in the Jadeon Sect, his knowledge and possession will draw him into a chaotic story where he will have to carry some of the greatest burdens of the Martial World.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”