Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! - Chapter 295: ’What Do You Think, Florian?’

In the 1960s, resources were extremely scarce. Thankfully, she had a personal space filled with supplies, ensuring she never lacked for food and clothing.

In Tianlan Continent, there is a magic store called Origin Mall.

The Coke here can make people full of blood in an instant; the spicy bars here can make people fight leapfrog; the games here can make people improve their cultivation; the novels here can make people understand the techniques…

There are countless goods here, including leisure, entertainment, dining, training…

Oh, by the way, remember one thing, don’t make trouble in the store, because the owner of the store is very strong…

Xiao Qingrong had no mother and no father. With his own ability, he climbed to the peak of life, then encountered a system who could shuttle him across time and space. “Do you want to become a male god?”

He turned into a 17-year old, weak chicken with two years left in prison, Xiao Qingrong coldly interrogated the system. The system, playing dead, threw a powerful pill.

#In short, this Male God always threatens his Super Male God System#

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.