MTL - One Child Two Treasures: The Billionaire Chief’s Good Wife - Chapter 22 028 Youyou's Xiaolongbao, goodbye

I just lost myself in the deep and shallow temptation of her.
——by Jiang Hanyu
Everyone knows that the person Nan Gao doesn’t mess with is Jiang Hanyu
She is arrogant and fierce, relying on beauty, a proper little overlord in school
Everyone thinks that the best relationship with Jiang Hanyu is to call him brothers.
But one day, someone found that Jiang Hanyu was holding the hand of the goddess of coldness in the class and lowered his eyebrows after class.
Unruly girls become gentle and charming
He also said in an unbearable and irresistible voice, “Si Nian, will you give me a kiss?”
Then everyone knew that the best relationship with Jiang Hanyu was…

TIPS:
1. The Great Demon King X Miss Gao Leng
2. Campus text

- Description from novelbuddy

Tachikawa Shin always thought he was a decent, upright man—unfortunately, he’d been saddled with an indecent favorability system.Raise others’ affection to grow stronger?“I’d rather stay away from these witches, but this concerns my safety and physical integrity... Well, it seems I don’t have a choice,” Tachikawa Shin said righteously, with absolutely no perversion whatsoever.All hail the Rizzler!

You read the title, right? If not...

He had been playing an H-Game when all of sudden...his life ended.

When he woke up, he found that he had been sent into the world of the H-Game.

What will he do now that he's in this new world?

……………………………………………………………

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war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”