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... and carousing could be heard. Coming to an open window, he heard course laughter, and looking through the window, he was blinded by what he saw. At first, it seemed to be a radiance of sorts, and within were four beautiful goddesses.

One was tall, lounging on a cushion, her lustrous brown hair in a ponytail falling around her. She wore a red outfit that bared shoulders and dipped far down below her breasts in a v. The movement drew attention to their size as she drank from two flagons. H ...

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“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.

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System: You are now a lowly male supporting role, a passerby who wants to go offline at any time, please keep secretly and grow vulgarly.
Shi Yan: Very good, thank you for your suggestion.
The first world: Shi Yan, as a little prince born in a cold palace, made himself an emperor.
The original male and female protagonists, under his witness, became grudge couples.
The second world: Shi Yan, as the youngest son of the princess who died tragically, made himself a powerful minister over ten thousand people.
The original male and female protagonists, under his witness, became grudge couples.
The nth world: Shi Yan, as a genius in the world of comprehension, has made himself the number one powerhouse in the Three Realms.
The original male and female protagonists, under his witness, became grudge couples.
The system feels that something is wrong.
Shi Yan instead persuaded him: Let the male and female protagonists come together in the end no matter what the circumstances are, isn’t it the self-cultivation of the tool man and the male partner?

Content tags: Kuaichuan Shuangwen Metaphysics
Search keywords: Protagonist: Shi Yan ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:
One sentence introduction: The male partner is beautiful alone
Purpose: strong heart, unmoved by wind and rain

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