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... om the teacher. However, she didn’t want it when I gave it to her.

I wanted to stay and leave, but she threw the snakeskin out of the yard.

Didn’t she like that snakeskin? why did I give it to her and throw it away like trash?

She’s looking down on me, looking down on me, Chu luoxiang. There’s no hope, there’s no hope in this life ...

“I’m just a good-for-nothing, a useless person ...” Chu luoxiang’s tears kept flowing as she lay on the ground and started wailing. ...

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Fu Xin woke up and found herself as a mother on a reality show, where she had abused her biological son into depression, faced online boycott, and ultimately became a disgraced mother.

However, Fu Xin remained unfazed because the plot had yet to begin. As long as she acted badly enough, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

So, when the program started, while other mothers were getting up early, preparing delicious breakfast, coaxing their babies to wake up, and worrying about their temper tantrums, Fu Xin and her son had a different approach.

The five-year-old little one would get up on his own, tidy himself up, and tirelessly try to wake his mom up! He would climb trees to get bird eggs, fish in the river, and dig snakes in the fields, leaving his dear mother worried.

Fu Xin claimed that she only wanted to act badly, but her little one was so amazing that he became the “most desired baby by netizens of the year,”. It was to the point that people even wanted to steal him by putting him in a sack. It was evident how popular her little one was.

Naturally, Fu Xin gained attention as well.

This made netizens bitter, and they started to make sarcastic comments. They claimed Fu Xin was a discarded woman from a wealthy family, and her rich husband never showed up.

Unexpectedly, the next moment, the rumored CEO, known for not returning home and rarely appearing in public, sent out lawyer letters personally.

Fu Xin: “What’s going on? How come this wealthy husband, who never appeared in the original story, is joining the fray?”

Jiang Yi: “Our son and I waited for you for a lifetime in our previous life. Finally, in this life, we have you back!”

Fu Xin: “So, I transmigrated… into myself?!”

……………………………………………………………

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“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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