MTL - Eight Treasures Trousseau - Chapter 51 Pothole Prince

The Fifth Young Master of the Yan Family has immense power and unmatched beauty, but his personality is unpredictable and his methods ruthless, making everyone afraid of him.Until he took in a young girl of unknown origin.The young girl, soft and clingy, was not only unafraid of him but followed him around all day, pitifully saying she wanted to repay him.In the end, he cherished her as a treasure, spoiling her to the core, wishing he could give her everything, only to find out she had no idea what liking someone meant.He angrily cornered her against the wall, his voice low and dangerous: “Little Gua, if you keep making trouble, don't blame me for being rude.”[1V1 Sweetheart, super indulgent!]

The flapping of the wings of butterflies in the Gulf of Mexico may cause hurricanes in North America. This is the so-called butterfly effect. So a military history lover was born in France at the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th century, what effect would it cause? The powerful British Empire Navy fleet was wiped out in front of him, and the brutal Cossack cavalry trembled in front of him. ． ． ． ． ． This book is purely fictitious, please compare it with real history by mistake! ) (I implore every friend who reads the book to help collect it, thank you!)

The new book “The Fourth Empire of China” has been uploaded, and I hope you will support me a lot!

- Description from novelbuddy

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.