Ghosts Know What I Experienced - Chapter 23 .1: Things have remained the same, but people have changed.

With a marriage contract forcefully done, he married her, and all she could do was comply, and resent him deeply for that and for all the following misunderstandings they faced.
However, it was already too late when she understood she actually loved him.

Lin Xu, who is about to graduate from university, suddenly gets bound to the Cooking God system and has become the owner of a restaurant.To taste his handmade noodles, customers would not hesitate to leave work early.To savor his Braised Pork Belly, customers would even place their orders a week in advance.“He really made Chili Oil? Well, in that case, we definitely have to try it.”“Oh my God! This Chili Oil is so good!”

Chu Qianze turned the pen in his hand in a circle and smashed it against the drum next to him, the loud drum sound resounding around him.

Facing the two people who looked over at him together, he pulled out a polite smile, which was very dazzling under the neon light.

“I’m sorry, you are ruining my eyes.”

Later:

Feeling the gazes of the people around him, the flashing lights that flared from time to time, and a few gasps, Chu Qianze’s mouth twitched: “Is this a new way to surprise people?”

***

Chu Qianze, who had just arrived in the world and was getting acquainted with his surroundings, was inexplicably pulled by a man and was held in his arms.

“I already have someone I like; it’s him!”

Chu Qianze looked at the person blankly, but saw that the other person turned his eyes away, his breath a little disordered.

“..?”

- Description from Novelupdates

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.