MTL - Return of the Dead [Holo] - Chapter 128

“You mean that Prince Yu wants to marry me?”

Shao He, heir to a family renowned for medical and poison skills, a top special agent of the 21st century, unexpectedly transmigrated into the body of a pathetic Madam Marquis who had been tortured to death! And on that very night, she was thrown into the Mass Burial Mound!Looking at the newborn in her arms, Shao He resolved to live a splendid life in this foreign world!From then on!She was the Divine Doctor who aided the world!She was the fearsome Poison Queen!She possessed wealth to rival nations!She was also an astonishing scholar!And the Marquis, filled with regret, wished he could kill himself on the spot, “He'er, I was wrong, you...”“Shut up, I am now the Empress!”

Lin Jiao and Gu Quan have been in love for two years, playing the role of a little white flower for his liking, willing to be humble as dust.

She thought that Gu Quan loved each other as much as she did.

But at a party, I heard him and others say, “Lin Jiao is very good, but it’s not her.”

Only then did Lin Jiao realize how ridiculous her character was.

She was ashes as she was, and when he left himself and lingered with his sweetheart, she left the stage sadly.

*

Later, Gu Quan, remorseful, found Lin Jiao.

He grabbed her hand, his eyes full of nostalgia: “Jiaojiao, forgive me, okay?”

“Not good.” A man in a bathrobe suddenly appeared and hugged Lin Jiao tightly in an absolutely possessive posture.

He glanced at Gu Quan defiantly, leaned over and whispered, “Wife, shall we continue?”

【Guquan Crematorium】

【The second male upper position】

【Double C, 1v1, Cookies】

- Description from novelbuddy

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”