MTL - Farmer of Shu Han - Chapter 1127 commission

Living as a concubine’s daughter in her previous life, He Danggui got herself and her daughter tortured and killed by her family and Princess Zhou, while her husband, Lord Ning, allowed them to do so for a secret. After reborn as a child, she swore to hold back her kindness to the villains. How did she survive in a family with various secrets and conspiracies? Who would be her final choice? The love of her previous life or a new lover who could offer her a happy and simple life? Sharing the identities of doctor, political counselor and princess, was she able to bring great changes both in Jianghu and the imperial family? With her intelligence and excellent medical skills, would she let them pay for what they did to her or live differently as a new one?

[You have been killed by the Hero of Light.]

[You have died.]

I had died at the hands of the main character in the novel I had read before.

But I got another chance. I regressed and returned to the time when I first entered this novel world.

Once again, I live in this novel world as an extra character.

Since I have experience and knowledge, especially my World System which had upgraded, I'll do what I want to do.

I will become stronger than the main character.

“Darling, I want…”“Here’s the credit card. Buy everything you want.”“Darling, I want to give you a child!”“That’s unnecessary.”“…”Ye Shengge’s inborn birthmark could only be deciphered by Ji Shiting.However, that man was very aloof and reserved, and he wasn’t tempted at all. And one day when she finally gave up and tried to leave, that man literally carried her back.She yelled, ” What do you want?”The man said with his deep voice, “What you’ve been wanting the whole time.Ye Shengge always thought that Ji Shiting was forced to marry her, yet years after, she realized that it was all part of his plan, and there was no way she could run away from him.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.