I am Really a Superstar - Chapter 1649 - A first in the history of Chinese film!

When he woke up, Yang Yuan found himself reborn.

When he was one year old, “Ah, not only rebirth, but also transmigration.”

At the age of three, “Goldfinger is finally in place!”

Portable space is handy.

Fourteen years old, “What the hell is my golden finger?”

Yang Yuan screamed in the sky…

Thirty-year-old, Yang Yuan, who was hugging from left to right, stood on Emperor Tread Peak, pointing to the vast land, “This is the country that I have conquered!”

Omg, golden fingers are so fragrant!

- Description from novelbuddy

“Rebirth in the 90s: The Counterattack of the Delicate Wife” is now available, please support it, dear old and new readers.Bai Xiao was reborn in 1985, back to when she was 18 years old during the release of the college entrance examination results. Her grandmother and uncle, afraid she would break free from their control, had hidden her university admission notice. Nobody would dream of stopping her from attending university this time. In her past life, her soldier brother and married sister protected her; this life, she would protect them.Chen Shimei's trash father, stepmother, and stepsister can all step aside, I don't know you.When she resolutely jumped into the river, that person... this isn't murder, sister is reclaiming her special ability from her past life.A certain man: Whether it's suicide or murder doesn't matter, you owe me a life-saving debt. Marry me in return!

After coming out of a tunnel… it was pitch dark.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.