Lightning Is the Only Way - Chapter 7 - 7 – Fighting The Tortoise

A certain Xiao wang* embraced her who was in men’s clothing, rolled over onto the ground, not neglecting to kiss her with burning kisses.

She who was going to war on behalf of her brother yelled out, “Wangye*, I am a man! A man! Do you see clearly?”

Wangye acted as if nothing happened, accurately captured two fragrant, soft and sweet lips, one kiss after another: “This wang am recently sexually inclined towards males!” A certain female’s tiny waist was being crushed as she tearfully pled, “Wangye, please spread the rain and dew!”

A certain Xiao wang: “There are many potential lovers to choose from, but this wang only wants one.”

She, Linghu Shui Yue, a military doctor from the modern era, has reincarnated into a stupid sixteen year old girl?

She stupid? Then she’ll stupidly hit Qi* wang! Fortune favors fools! How about changing a husband to play with? What is Qi wang? She heard that You* wang was the world’s most beautiful man! Sleep, of course one must sleep the world’s number one beautiful man! Marry, of course she must marry the man all the women in the world want to marry!

But, isn’t this man too black-bellied? There was no need for her to even think about it for the man voluntarily presented himself at her door and used all sorts of wiles and methods to marry her as consort! There’s a conspiracy! Then come! And see how she sees through the subterfuge and completely demolishes it.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.