MTL - Eighteen Years Old - Chapter 62

Lin Chuan, a struggling writer, finally got his golden finger—the Career Life Experience System.Randomly experiencing a profession, after the experience is over, novels will be generated based on Lin Chuan's experiences.But Lin Chuan found that the professions he experienced were all too sketchy!Swindler, Assassin, Hacker, Touch Gold Captain...Corresponding novels were born: “Swindler,” “Hacker Kingdom,” “Touch Gold Notes,” and others came into existence.Before he knew it, his works became popular.Selected reader comments:“This book describes things too realistically, this is definitely an autobiography!”“With you confessing and me confessing, Mr. Lin will end up in prison sooner or later.”“Author Lin Chuan (×), Suspect Mr. Lin (√)”Unexpectedly, the reader's prophecy has come true!The police showed up, “We suspect you're involved in serious illegal and criminal activities!”Lin Chuan, “Huh?”The police, “The crimes in your novels, they're your actual deeds, right?”Lin Chuan's vision went dark.Done for, I've written myself into the station, but I'm really not a criminal suspect!!!!!!

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.

It is the day of her long-awaited debutante at the age of 15.

Marshallie Gracis, a Viscount’s daughter, witnesses her own fiancé kneeling before another woman and begging for her love.

She was saddened by the unexpected scene of the affair, but her fiancé offered no excuse or apology. She thought the engagement would be broken off, but it wasn’t even that, and the next thing she knew, 10 years had passed without her being married…

25-year-old Marsha had given up on the idea of getting married to become the queen’s maid of honor.

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It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.