MTL - In which the System Torments the Protagonists: My Wife is My Life! - Chapter 66

After Song Jianzhi’s death, she participated in the lottery for the reemployment of the underworld population, and started a second life in the small world of dog blood romance and romance. Her job was to be a golden finger for the heroine of destiny.

The informatization of the underworld is outdated, and the system has not arrived yet. Song Jianzhi was trembling with fear and ignorance, and slammed with people.
Woke up the next day, the system that was successfully installed was dumbfounded: host, why did you beep–with Mingxu?
Song Jianzhi: I know she is my rival in love, but I can’t.
The system smiled: Then do you know that Mingxu is the heroine of this article and your future mission target?
Song Jianzhi: ? !

Song Jianzhi, who accidentally put her “rival in love” to sleep, daring to start working, sending the script and variety show together, visiting the class to accompany her with heavy tasks, and conscientiously doing her job as a golden finger, looking at the increasingly shining heroine, she revealed A mother-like smile.

later.
Ming Xu looked down at her, a strand of long hair fell on Song Jianzhi’s face: “Before they thought we were rivals in love, now they think you are me…”
Song Jianzhi interrupted her righteously: “That’s because their thoughts are filthy! We’re just friends—”
Mingxu’s voice was clear: “Girlfriend.”
Song Jianzhi: Hmm?

Read the guide: Modern overhead, same-sex marriageable settings
naughty cookies
#trying to write the breath of sand sculpture but readers say I am not enough sand sculpture series#
There are always readers who ask if it is mutual attack, it is mutual attack, but it is not strong, it is a cute girl falling in love, but they do not see that mutual attack is not written.
Don’t take the logic seriously, the plot is only for sugar sprinkles, and it’s a pleasure to eat.
This article has opened the anti-theft, passing sugar
Declined to change the text
Author Weibo: @jinjiang small tanluan

Content tags: A soft spot for entertainment, sweet text, through books
Search keywords: Protagonist: Song Jianzhi, Ming Xu ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

Seth Zephyr is the prodigy of the Zephyr Noble Household, who will one day be regarded as the strongest Mage in the entire world.Compared to him, his twin brother Ashfelt Zephyr is completely unimpressive.He is untalented, mediocre at best, and is merely riding on his brother’s coattails as they both manage to get into the Akashic Magus Academy. However, what many don’t know is that Ashfelt is hiding a little secret of his own.… He was reincarnated from Earth into a Fantasy Novel, and now he must see this story to its perfect end if he is ever to return home.How is an Extra supposed to do all of that when he is a completely useless character in a world that cares only about talent and power?It’s simple!“I will use all of my knowledge of this world to the fullest… and make sure you fulfill your destiny, Seth! No matter what!”Tags: Transmigration. Extra. Action. Adventure. Magic. Academy. Antihero. WeaktoStrong. Overpowered. Romance. Superpowers. Strongactingweak. Mystery. BeastTaming.

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

“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.