Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system-Chapter 699: Men or Women. Who suffer more?

Ling Qingyu leaned back, arms crossed, brows lightly furrowed. "Still… I've heard plenty of arguments from the other side. Men do say they had it worse."

Xiao Yue glanced over, motioning for her to go on.

"Like, dying in war. Getting tortured as POWs. Carrying the weight of being the breadwinner. Most men throughout history weren't nobles or kings. Just peasants or soldiers thrown into battle with a spear and no armor."

"Mm," Xiao Yue nodded, letting her speak.

"And unlike women, they couldn't cry for help. They weren't allowed to be weak. No room for emotional outbursts. No excuse to run. Everything expected of them was to shut up, suffer, and sacrifice."

"That's true," Xiao Yue agreed. "But keep going."

Ling Qingyu tapped her fingers against her arm. "Some men say women always had an easier ticket in peace times. Marry a rich guy, stay at home, avoid the battlefield. Even now, they argue women get lighter punishments in court, priority in rescue, sympathy in public."

"Ah, the ol' 'women have it easier' list," Xiao Yue smirked. "Ready for my side?"

Ling Qingyu gave a short nod.

Xiao Yue's tone turned solemn. "Let's start with war. Yes, men die in combat, but women don't survive whole either. You think it's easy to be raped? To have your body taken over and over, sometimes by your own country's army? And when it's done—not only do they suffer the trauma, but society blames them. Chastity was worshipped. Even if they lived, they were considered dirty. Unmarriageable. Their families disowned them. Some were drowned in pig cages to 'restore honor.' You call that surviving?"

Ling Qingyu frowned.

"And let's talk about choices," Xiao Yue added. "Most men at least had some chance. Rare, yes. But a soldier could climb the ranks, win merit, rise in status. Women? No ladder. No promotions. No battlefield glory. Just... silent obedience. That's why many disguised themselves as men to enter the army. Not to fight—just to survive."

She shifted slightly in her seat. "The shame women endured was deeper. Selling their bodies wasn't a tactic—it was often the only way to eat. To protect a child. To not starve. Sure, some men were raped too, and yes, they were also used. But for women, this was the default. Their value in ancient times was often tied only to beauty or fertility. In war, that meant being a reward—or a resource."

Ling Qingyu remained quiet.

"Oh, and those 'easy marriages'?" Xiao Yue snorted. "More like business deals. No love. No say. If the husband was cruel, tough luck. If she escaped? Branded a whore. The legal system didn't protect her. Not even her own family would take her back."

A pause.

"Even in peace, it wasn't easy. Sure, women might avoid the battlefield, but not oppression. They couldn't inherit land. Couldn't go to school. Couldn't travel without a man. Couldn't speak in court. And when they could finally learn or work—centuries later—it was still under restrictions."

She leaned back. "So yes, men suffered. And they carry their own burdens. But women? We suffered differently. Deeper. With fewer exits."

Ling Qingyu looked away for a moment, gazing out the window again.

"I don't know who suffered more," she finally said. "But I guess... if suffering was a mountain, then men climbed it with heavy armor, but at least on a path. Women were thrown in, blindfolded, with wolves waiting below."

Xiao Yue gave her a knowing smile. "You're starting to get it."

Ling Qingyu took a long breath, her fingers tracing the edge of her tablet. "Alright. Let's forget about history for a second. What about now? Modern era. Do you still think women have it worse?"

Xiao Yue gave a half shrug. "It's more complicated. Compared to ancient times, both genders have it better. But the trauma didn't vanish—it evolved."

Ling Qingyu leaned in. "Go on."

Xiao Yue tapped her temple. "Women might have legal rights now, but that doesn't mean equality. People say we're free—but then punish us for living freely. If you work hard and climb the ladder, they say you slept your way up. If you stay at home, they say you're wasting your life. If you're assertive, they call you a bitch. If you're quiet, you're weak. It's like... no matter what we do, someone's pissed."

Ling Qingyu smiled faintly. "Sounds like my daily life."

Xiao Yue chuckled. "Yeah, well, you're an outlier. The rest of us? We still get groped on buses. Still get told to smile by strangers. Still walk with our keys between our fingers at night."

Ling Qingyu hummed. "Men have a point too, though. Some are overworked to death. Pressured to provide. Told to never cry, or express weakness. And in a divorce, they often lose custody. In school, boys lag behind in literacy. Suicide rates are higher among men."

Xiao Yue nodded seriously. "All valid. That's the part modern feminism often forgets. Gender issues cut both ways. Men suffer in silence. They bottle everything up because society taught them emotions are weakness. That's why some explode, or shut down entirely. We're all paying the price for outdated roles."

She added, "But here's the key difference—women were always fighting for something: rights, safety, autonomy. Men are now fighting against losing their traditional dominance. It's not the same kind of battle."

Ling Qingyu paused. "So men feel like they're slipping… while women are still climbing."

"Exactly," Xiao Yue replied. "And the climb isn't done. Sure, we can work and vote, but try walking into a boardroom of twenty men and see how many actually listen. Or how many stare at your chest instead of your words."

"So," Ling Qingyu said slowly, "no side has it easy."

"No," Xiao Yue agreed. "But the pressures are different. One gender is crushed by expectation to win and dominate. The other is crushed trying to be taken seriously."

A brief silence passed between them, broken only by the hum of the vehicle.

Ling Qingyu finally muttered, "...Maybe I pity both."

Xiao Yue glanced at her. "That's fair. Just don't forget which side was never allowed to choose their fate."

Ling Qingyu smiled faintly. "As expected of a former warlord, you're not making it easy for me to stay neutral."

Xiao Yue grinned. "Good. Thinking shouldn't be easy."

Ling Qingyu leaned her head against the seat, gazing outside at the endless road ahead. "So, men and women both suffer in different ways… still doesn't answer why nothing seems to change."

Xiao Yue folded her arms and sighed. "Because power doesn't care who suffers. It just wants to stay in power."

"That simple?"

"That cruel," she corrected. "You know, it's not even about gender most of the time. It's about hierarchy. Wealth. Influence. Whether you're a poor man, woman, or even child—if you're weak, you're disposable. Always have been."

Ling Qingyu narrowed her eyes. In the distance, another checkpoint loomed. Soldiers dragging out a youth barely of age. An elderly man shouted nearby, quickly silenced by a rifle's buttstock. No cameras. No witnesses. Just another forgotten village.

She didn't say a word.

Xiao Yue saw it too. "Those boys? It's not just that they're men. It's that they're poor."

"Used like pawns," Ling Qingyu muttered, voice low. "Their lives just become meat for war… no names, no choices."

"And if they resist, they're traitors," Xiao Yue said bitterly. "If they flee, they're cowards. If they cry, they're weak. Their entire worth measured by how much they bleed for someone else's flag."

"While the daughters they leave behind," Ling Qingyu continued quietly, "become currency for the victors. Taken to please the ones holding rifles."

"And what of justice?" Xiao Yue said. "Who answers for them? Who punishes the officer who turns a blind eye while his men pillage a village? Who buries the girl when her family abandons her for shame?

"You know what I learn from Ziyi which angers me most regarding your topics? Westerners always say women had it easier. That they weren't sent to the frontlines, weren't made to fight and die. That being spared was a privilege."

Xiao Yue's brow arched. "Spared? You mean like the Chinese women were 'spared' during the Japanese occupation?"

Ling Qingyu scoffed, bitterness rising. "Yeah. Tell that to the ones raped to death in Nanking. Tell that to the comfort women who spent years tied in shacks, used until they couldn't even cry or till liberated from death."

Silence lingered again. The topic was heavier; luckily, these terrible events didn't occur to the most tragic extent as Ling Qingyu studied in the previous life.

Ling Qingyu exhaled softly, her tone sharp now, like steel beneath silk. "In the end, the weak suffer. That's the only truth. There's no privilege in being weak. Whether you're a man, a woman, a child… the powerful will devour you just the same. And history will pretend it was all necessary.""

"And so the poor keep fighting. The weak keep bleeding. While the rich and powerful write poems about sacrifice over their wine glasses." Xiao Yue nodded and her jaw tightened. "And the powerful make rules to stay powerful. No matter the century."

"Then let them hear this," Ling Qingyu said, her voice suddenly colder. "If the game's rigged, I'll rewrite the game. Since I have come here, fate has told me to act. All journey begins with a single step and it shall begin from here."

Xiao Yue smirked. "Now that's the Ling Qingyu I know."

Their convoy rolled past the checkpoint without slowing—black SUVs untouched, soldiers straightening like puppets tugged by invisible strings. No one dared block the path. They didn't know who sat inside, but they felt it: someone important. Someone dangerous.

Ling Qingyu turned away from the window, her expression unreadable.

"The strong will always oppress the weak," she said softly. "Until the weak have nothing left to lose. Then they'll fight back. —not because they want to win, but because they can't stand crawling anymore."

She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.

In that silence, even the air seemed to tremble.

Two operators at the front acted nonchalant but in their heart, a fire called ideology burned ferociously after listening to the heavenly conversation.

Serving Ling Qingyu and discovering her true ideals assured their loyalties weren't in vain. Even if a leader treated subordinates well, who didn't want a leader with passionate goals that would plant a flag to the known order.

The car kept moving, through a country rotting at the roots, where the powerful still fed on the desperate.