MTL - Rumor Has It That I’m Pregnant with His Highness’ Child - Chapter 636 dying

Mu Xiaoya lived for twenty-six years before she knew that she had a sudden genetic disease. There was no medicine for it, and there was only death waiting for her.

Before she died, many people came to see her, but she was most impressed by Bai Chuan.

Bai Chuan was her neighbor, an autistic child with scholar’s syndrome. At that time, his face full of scars was desperate: “I – I studied all your medical records, but I have no way to save you.”

Mu Xiaoya was stunned: “You are a doctor?”

Bai Chuan: “I am not… …”

Mu Xiaoya’s disease was a genetic disease. Unless the gene was changed, there was no possibility of cure. However, Bai Chuan was the only person who tried to cure her after she fell ill.

Mu Xiaoya: “Why are you going to cure me?”

Bai Chuan: “I want to marry you.”

Mu Xiaoya laughed: “If you marry me, you will soon become a widower.”

Bai Chuan insisted: “I – I want to marry you.”

Bai Chuan, who has cognitive impairments, can’t express his meaning very well, and can only repeat it over and over again.

Later, Mu Xiaoya still died. When she woke up, she returned to the summer of her college graduation.

Bai Chuan: “I… I want to marry you.”

Mu Xiaoya: “Good.”

The starlight in the eyes of Bai Chuan was the most beautiful scenery that Mu Xiaoya had ever seen in her life.

- Description from Novelupdates

After crossing, I also got the superhuman… twisted fruit.

This devil fruit was brought into full play by him.

Distort gravity, distort space, distort time.

Fight for hegemony in the new world and become the new emperor.

The top war choice is to completely evolve this epic battle into his stage.

Luo Chen declared to the world:

My time has come! !

- Description from novelbuddy

The first meeting was at a small bar. A friend nudged his arm, smiling somewhat suggestively: A woman like Daisy Ginger should be kept in a vase, constantly admired, and toyed with at any moment.At that time, she seemed to be drunk and was persuaded by her friend to take to the dance floor and perform a dance.He propped up his face, watching the glamorous woman with casual indifference under the dazzling lights.Daisy Ginger.The name is spicy enough.The figure.Also spicy enough.Banyan City’s young Master Wen, afflicted with a severe illness, was deemed by doctors at birth to not live past the age of thirty. He lived capriciously up to the age of twenty-five, never imagining he’d encounter such a dilemma in his lifetime—if he were to die, what would happen to the little demon at home who creates chaos and mischief without his protection, and ends up bringing harm upon herself when he’s no longer there to shield her?

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.