The Ordinary Me is Worshipped as a Deity by the Extraordinary Them - Chapter 72

The Empress who dies in torture, An Rushuang is her name. After she wakes up, she finds herself has time-travelled to when she was twelve years old, but she would turn into Major General’s white horse at night. He is a general who orders about the winds and clouds on the battlefield, and she is a little girl lives in her boudoir seclusively.
She endeavors to change her fate, and he spared no effort to win every battle. They meet each other every day, well, it’s night to be accurate. Is that a dream or not? She pleads to marry the seignior to win peace for her family, only to find he is the one she is going to marry.
“Growing old with you under the same roof is my long-cherished wish”, thought them both.

- Description from Novelupdates

After being killed, Xu Turan was given a system and got pulled into a certain thriller romance novel. There, she became the crucial female supporting role who seeks death. However, on the first day of transmigrating, her system was urgently recalled for repair as it was aging.

As their farewell was imminent, the system was worried about its new host so it repeatedly reminded Xu Turan: [Your role is to be a supporting character who is always seeking death. You do know what that means, right?]

Xu Turan recalled her rich experience of doing just that in her previous life and she replied affirmatively with absolute confidence.

So the system withdrew with its mind at ease.

After a few days, the system that had been away for repair finally returned. When it looked at the situation, it almost malfunctioned: [What are you doing?!!]

Xu Turan, who was busy arguing with the Evil God, answered without thinking, “I’m doing what you asked me to do – trying to find ways to die.]

System: […?!]

- Description from Novelupdates

Once, because of a pair of purple eyes he was scorned. He is a wangye known across the land, cold and bloodthirsty, looking disdainfully upon the world.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.