Multiverse: Deathstroke - Chapter 352: Splitting Up

Yu Mian has been an orphan since she was a child. Fortunately, she has a kind person to support her, and the kind person is a starlet.
With gratitude, she became the little star’s first fan, sent him messages of encouragement, helped him make the rankings, and helped him tear up the sunspots for him, and accompanied him from obscurity to the top of the entertainment circle, and won the actor trophy.
Yu Mian thought that she would silently protect him for the rest of her life, but in a car accident, she transmigrated into Yu Mianmian, the fiancée of the movie emperor’s family.
On the first day of transmigrating, the film king appeared in front of her. Before Yu Mian could recover from the joy of seeing the idol, she saw a man with a cold face handing over a piece of paper.
The voice was low and indifferent: “We are just a family marriage, we just need to play around.”
Yu Mian Xingxingyan nodded, took the contract and smiled so much that she couldn’t see her teeth. Idols are for looking up to. As a qualified fan, being able to get close to her is enough to satisfy her.
Once dressed as a wealthy lady, Yu Mian, a commoner, just wants to eat and wait to die, and spend money and money on idols!
But why did the idol, who said he was good at acting on the occasion, look more and more wrong in her eyes?
One day, the film king blocked her in a corner: “When will our marriage be held?”
Yu Mian blinked suspiciously: “Didn’t you say you don’t want to get married too early?”
The film emperor gritted his teeth secretly: “I changed my mind, and suddenly wanted to try what it would be like to be called my husband.”
Lin Jianshen: I call my husband every day on the Internet, when will I actually call him once?
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【Daily Stream/Sweet Cookies/No Cruelty No Scum】
The author is not in the circle, please forgive me if there is any inaccuracy.

- Description from novelbuddy

A number of university students are given a simple survey in which they must watch a number of short films and rank them in order of preference. The reader takes the survey along with them with the short films being told as short stories.

Leguna. An orphan. His life changed dramatically the day the thieves’ guild happened to select him for training and development. He would go on to become lifelong friends with a loyal mercenary, the partner of a beautiful magus who was cold as ice, the savior of a mysterious disfigured dark-elf girl with a talent for the Breath, and the unlikely caregiver for a feisty young maiden. And yet, who would be with him to the very end?

“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.