MTL - On Her Lips - Chapter 162

For the wine to be drunk on her wedding night to actually have been a cup of poison and for the one to poison her to be her husband, who would believe it?

Lin Ling, who had wood-type abilities, died in the first year of the end of the world, and it has been ten years since he opened his eyes again. After ten years of turmoil, zombie siege, and natural/natural/disaster/disasters, the city has all become In the ruins, very few people survived.

At this time, in order to rebuild their homes, to resettle the surviving people, and to encourage planting, the country allocated land according to the head, and each person allocated a large piece of land.

Holding the land use right certificate, Lin Ling rushed to the land allocated to her by the state. Along the way, she was planning to plant rice first, then raise chickens, and raise two big fat pigs.

When she was full of fantasies about the abundance of grains and flocks of chickens and ducks, she rushed to her new home and looked at the scorched black hills with no grass growing, um… she should start by planting trees.

Year after year, as far as Lin Ling could see, there were green hills and green waters, gurgling water, flocks of chickens and ducks…a piece of scorched and desolate land became full of vitality.
**
Looking at the vibrant village, the only downside is that Lin Ling is alone for ten miles around, so lonely!
She looked at the golden wheat field, spent ten catties of wheat generously, and bought a companion, who was su and handsome, but a little clingy, and always wanted to meet her.
Lin Ling looked at the wheat field, um… She has reason to suspect that the chatter is coveting the wheat in her field!

PS:
1. Daily farming + infrastructure.
2. Daily update, update at nine o’clock in the morning.
3. The author’s writing style is average, there are bugs, super overhead, everything is for the plot, enjoy reading the text and pictures, please don’t delve into it.

Content tags: farming culture infrastructure
Search keywords: Protagonist: Lin Ling ┃ Supporting role: Please bookmark! ┃ Others: Farming Literature, End Times,
One-sentence introduction: I am engaged in infrastructure construction in the last days
Conception: Work hard to live a happy life Daily farming + infrastructure.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

A princess's duty is to be beautiful, quiet, not loud, to be seen and not to be heard, which was how Dahlia lived most of her life. Bound by the expectations of her title, she spent years trying to prove to her father that she was more than just a princess and capable of being more than an ornament in his court but each time she never got the chance. Instead, she was forced into a marriage of convenience with the bravest knight in all the kingdom, Reagan Hawthorne.Dahlia thought she would use this marriage to escape the brutal crutches of her father and glide out of her cage but Reagan’s cold disdain was an unexpected prison of its own. While he waged wars on distant lands, she stayed behind, holding his household together and protecting the people he seemed to ignore. But Dahlia carried a dangerous secret. By day, she was the perfect wife. By night, she became the “Black Knight,” a masked vigilante fighting for justice in the shadows.Reagan returned, ready to focus on his personal mission: avenging his father’s death. To him, Dahlia was just another pawn in his plans—a spoiled princess he needed to tolerate. But as cracks began to form in her perfect façade, Reagan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his wife than met the eye.Now, with enemies circling closer and their secrets threatening to collide, Dahlia and Reagan must confront the lies they’ve told themselves and each other. But when masks fall and truths are revealed, will their fragile bond withstand the storm—or will it shatter beyond repair?One wound. One secret. One night that changes everything.