Forgotten Juliet - Chapter 178:

There was breaking news in Beijing. “Master Qiao’s wife for twelve years ran away! Without taking her son with her!”

Rumors spread like wildfire. Some said that Master Qiao was two-faced with a cold attitude which led to an unhappy marriage. Others said his wife got together with another man. And a few said, their son was too ugly.

One day, the little boy found Ye Jiaqi and cried,” Qiqi, daddy says I was bought from a pet shop.”

“How can you buy such a gorgeous son from the pet shop,” Ye Jiaqi replied, “You were obviously won… From a lottery.”

…

Twenty years ago, he had spoiled her to the heavens. Twenty years later, he spoiled both of them to the heavens and back.

And from then on, Master Qiao had only one person in his heart.

……………………………………………………………

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The encounter in the past and this life is to continue the front line? Or continue the past?
Her Majesty the Queen lay lazily half-lying looking up at the sky, and suddenly a pair of legs were placed on her body.
“Pinch your feet.”
“Hey~ as ordered, wife.”

This is actually the story of an empress who transmigrated into an actress and then met her lover in her previous life.
Filming, pampering his wife (in fact, being pampered), and then watching the performances of the melon eaters.
Content tags: ancient wears modern sweet text

Search keywords: Protagonist: Qi Xuning, Yu Lingxi ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others: special liking

- Description from novelbuddy

Suo Fei, a veteran NEET has spent three-days and three nights strategizing his way through the highly explicit H danmei game masterpiece “Yalance”. Furthermore, he was able to capture all nine little shous from the nine great races. However, as the final, 10P feast was approaching, he unexpectedly transmigrated. He transmigrated into the real country of Yalance…

Suo Fei: Hey, hey, hey, can you delete these files and let me restart? What the hell did Laozi transmigrate into!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”