Rebirth of The Golden Marriage - Chapter 66

She died in her prime as the Queen of Song.

After being reincarnated, she becomes a simple trainee.

Losing her former glory? It doesn’t matter—no one can compete with her voice as a beautiful singer.

Mocked by her lowly birth? It doesn’t matter—her true identity is enough to make the whole world tremble.

She owes huge debts? It doesn’t matter…

A powerful boss once whispered to her, “Your debt will disappear if you become my woman.”

But the proud her would reply, “I’m sorry. I would sell my art, but not myself.”

Living in this apocalyptic world full of zombies and monsters, the rich rely on technology and the poor rely on mutation.

Shen Shanwu, 13 years old in appearance but 31 years old in reality, is a mutant that can alter his own appearance. Although he looks like a child on the outside, his wisdom is not very good. One day, he was just passing by when he was suddenly forcibly adopted by a major general, whom he didn’t know where he came from.

He resisted, but when he looked up, it turned out to be an old acquaintance.

The little boy, who could only hide behind him and cry, transformed into the unsmiling, cold, and tough man in front of him. And that expression of seeing a dead beloved is really unsightly…

Shen Shanwu: Can you smile?

Jing Huan: After Shanwu died, I couldn’t smile anymore.

Shen Shanwu: …Who? Who do you think is dead?

It took a long time before he found out about it. He found Jiang Huan crying and holding Shen Shanwu’s nameplate in the middle of the night and told his adopted son how good Shen Shanwu was… All of this…was seen by Shen Shanwu himself!

Jiang Huan (raising his gun): Since you have seen my embarrassing side, then I can only marry you or kill you.

Shen Shanwu: …

Shen Shanwu: Marry, marry, marry! I will recruit 800 zombies to carry you home!

- Description from Novelupdates

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”