Bringing the Nation's Husband Home - Chapter 592: Long Time No See, My Love (3)

In order to take away her father’s shares, her husband colluded with her bestfriend to set her up. A divorce was thrown at her face and she was forced out of the house.

Four years later, she returned with an adorable treasure. With his hands wrapped around her waist, her baby son said, “Mommy, I heard that it’s the trend now to have a godfather. You wait, I’ll find one to support you!”

A few days later, her son brought back a super handsome guy who looked exactly like him.

“Mommy, don’t worry, I’ve checked. Dad ranks first on the world’s richest list and is able to deal with all kinds of disapproval!” Her son said confidently.

Cheng Liyue: “…”

Looking at the startled woman, Gong Yexiao coldly threw out a paternity test, “Woman, when did you steal my seed?”

Cheng Liyue was furious. Which bastard was it who slept with her four years ago but did not assume responsibility for it?

- Description from Novelupdates

[Exile + farming + space + system + land reclamation + no CP]

I was exiled as soon as I crossed over, but fortunately I have space at my fingertips

Search your home?

Take the air, Chen Xue immediately evacuated the Chen Mansion, from the floor to the bed curtains, not even the garden or lake.

Even thousands of kilograms of food framed by the enemy were moved away.

When the enemy comes to ransack your home.

The enemy was dumbfounded: “Where are the things? Where are the thousands of kilograms of supplies I secretly put away?”

Hand: “Sir, there is nothing in the Chen family except rat droppings.”

Colleague: “Mr. Chen is so incorruptible. He doesn’t even have any food at home, and the whole family even sleeps on bed boards.”

Chen Xue said: “My family is really poor. There is not even a grain of rice in the jar. We are already too poor to open the pot.”

As a result, everyone in the world knew that there was a wealthy Mr. Chen in the capital, whose family was poor and penniless.

Father Chen: “Who said that my family is in poverty and penniless? I’m worried about him!”

Mother Chen: “My daughter said it.”

Father Chen: “Ahem, cough, cough, then it’s okay.”

Chen Xue said that being in exile was very hard, not only exposed to wind, sun and rain, but also not having enough food…

Prisoners and government officials: “Go away, we are the exiles, you are just going on a trip.”

In the exile team, Chen Xue’s family was lying in the carriage, drinking tea, eating preserved fruits, playing Go, growing vegetables in the space in their free time, and exchanging spicy sticks and other snacks from the system. They were so happy.

- Description from novelbuddy

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.“You shouldn't be here,” Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.“Shouldn't I?” His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.“I haven’t seen you for the last two days,” his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. “Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?”Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, “I don't belong to anyone.”“A bold claim,“ he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. ”Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch.”His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. “Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?”

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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