Farming Happiness: Husband, Come and Plough the Fields - Chapter 62: bridal chamber festivities

All I ever wanted was for famous detectives like Sherlock Holmes or Arsène Lupin to appear in my dreams and share their wisdom. But instead, why am I hearing the voices of notorious serial killers in my head, guiding me to solve a string of mysterious cases?

Ye Wanwan, in her past life, had a husband who neither loved her nor was close to his son. Upon rebirth, she had an epiphany; she would not wholeheartedly and recklessly love someone again.She decided to let herself go, no longer restraining herself, and began to do whatever she wanted to do.Shen Yi was busy with work, especially after being appointed by his father to establish an overseas branch. He hadn't returned home for two months, nor had he seen his wife.On his wife's birthday, he made a special trip back to the country, but learned from a servant that his wife had gone to a singer's concert. Shen Yi didn't even see her and left that same night.On their wedding anniversary, Shen Yi came back to the country again, only to find his wife throwing a pool party with a bunch of fair-weather friends at their villa, ending up drunk. He didn't even get a chance to speak a few words to her before he had to leave once more.Having initially completed the establishment of the overseas company, Shen Yi officially returned to the country. The day before returning, he even called home to check with the servants, making sure that his wife was at home and planning to pick him up from the airport the next day, feeling a faint sense of happiness.The next day, Shen Yi saw his wife, dressed in a revealing camisole and shorts, looking youthful and energetic at the airport.However, his wife was squeezed among a crowd, shouting at a man wearing sunglasses, “Husband!”Shen Yi, with a stern face, asked his visibly embarrassed assistant, “When did I get divorced?”[This sweet tale is free if it's not sweet! The female lead is a pure white flower who can't conquer all enemies, but there will be a little bun in the later stages!]

Mu Zhiyan, after being transmigrated a millennium (1000 yrs) into the future, discovered that he was raised by his adoptive parents as a tool for them to access the heritage his (dead) biological parents left behind. When he was at a loss for what to do next, he discovered that his body hosted an additional
pharmaceutical system.

For a chance to return to his era of Earth, Mu Zhiyan decided to practice and practice; he must train the system to full level as soon as possible.

However, reality gave him a slap in the face. The world is dangerous and dreadful, making Mu Zhiyan recall his mother’s words of holding a thick thigh, resulting in him locking his eyes on a cool general…

So the rumored mysterious Mu Master faced General Han with a serious face: “I allow you to follow me, General Han.”

General Han: “…”

- Description from Novelupdates

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.