Very Happy - Chapter 43 - Eyes

Yang Feng somehow transmigrated into a different world and received a legacy of an ‘ancient high tech’ family, which does not directly raise his power, but gives him the technology to build things which are way more advanced than the seemingly medieval world.

Chen Meilan was reborn, finding herself back in 1988 when she had been abandoned by her nouveau riche ex-husband and was struggling to raise her daughter alone.Her ex-husband had left her with a large courtyard house in the suburbs and a bank balance with four zeros.In her previous life, Chen Meilan’s pride had caused her to lose both of these assets, a decision she later deeply regretted.Yan Zhaocai had just returned from the battlefield, decorated with medals for his valor in the war of self-defense.Yet he voluntarily gave up his honors, transferred back to his hometown, and joined the police force. As soon as he arrived, he received divorce papers from his wife.After reporting to the police station, Yan Zhaocai, with his child in tow, was urgently seeking a place to settle down.Chen Meilan, with her rural household registration, couldn’t legally own the courtyard house given by her ex-husband. She too was in a desperate situation.At this moment, someone brought Yan Zhaocai to meet her.Yan Zhaocai was drawn to the fact that she also had a child. He thought that if he could be accommodating, she wouldn’t mistreat his child.Chen Meilan observed this man in his military uniform, tall and well-built, with a stern face. She remembered that in her previous life, it was his uncompromising integrity at work that had landed the nouveau riche and his mistress in jail after a coal mine collapse.Suddenly, she realized this man was quite a catch. Definitely marriage material!And so, their blissful second marriage began…

“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.

In the Kunlun Snow Palace, a sage once said, those who pass away wander, while the living cannot let go.Once the soul departs, it will wither like the autumn grass.Those who are reborn from the dead, existing apart from the mortal realm, shall be shunned by all celestial sects and smitten as undead demons.On this day, a youth awakens from within a coffin, his blood dry and his bones chilled, to find himself a century old upon opening his eyes.A single tear from a sage awaited, a constant companion, may unravel the dreams of the past.Seeking not immortality but a mundane death, not to lament with the ages over lost love and resentment, but only wishing to grow old with tenderness in this lifetime, beneath the white clouds that hold no envy for the heavenly realms.