The Fierce Illegitimate Miss - Chapter 129

A man in his thirties was standing in front of she-devil's grave, under everyone's watchful eyes, he dropped the flower to her coffin, his tone was full of ridicule. “Congrats on your death.”Next year he came, “I won. You lost to me and I will live well. Just rot in there.”Next year he came again, “I have a pretty girlfriend and I will marry next year. My life is good. Nothing to worry about.”Next year he came once more, “I will stop visiting and forget you! My life is better without you! See, I live well!”But he came again the next year and the years after that. People said he was hunted by his so-called arch-enemy. That even after death, the devil did not even let him go.He stood in front of her grave. His once handsome face had turned old and wrinkly.“Bei Sangyun, I cursed you. You are not allowed to rest in peace. You must be suffering there like me, right? You devil...”He might be the last one standing. But his life was the same as the dead's- lifeless and empty. He did not live well, he never once marry and his heart was never at peace.And it was all the fault of one person.*****Bei Sangyun was a big bully in high school. The target of her bullying was the skinny boy in her grade, Fei Chuan. They were classmates once in kindergarten and met again in high school.But one day, just a year left before graduation, the big bully suddenly changed.One day, Fei Chuan hesitantly opened his locker. The other night, the big bully said that she left something in his locker. He did not really want to open it. He was afraid a poisonous snake would come out of his locker. However, his report card was there. With gritted teeth, the young boy opened it.However, what appeared was not a hideous thing as he expected, but a bright pink letter with a little heart sticker as a seal.It turned out, the surprise was scarier than a snake.Was this a new form of torture?Since then, Bei Sangyun relentlessly chased the young Fei Chuan until the two got married.******This is a story of rebirth. The two arch-enemies who could not live under the same sky had become sweet lovers.

“Chantelle Bently, you’re a murderer! Why are you still alive? You should have been the one to die!”Daniel shoved her away furiously, his face as dark and empty as the black suit he wore.Chantelle was caught off guard and lost her balance, falling hard onto her pregnant belly.The pain was unbearable, and she cried out as her body trembled.Chantelle shook her head desperately. “I told you, it wasn’t me! It was Kate!”In a trembling voice, she pleaded, “Daniel, how many times do I have to say this before you believe me? I didn’t betray your family or the Wilson Group Of Companies, and I didn’t cause your grandfather’s death.”Anger and resentment appeared in Daniel’s eyes as he threw the divorce settlement in Chantelle’s face. “Sign this now! From this day forward, I’ll make you pay a thousand times for everything you’ve done!”The sight of the document struck Chantelle like a dagger to her heart.Her whole body froze as if she had been cast into the icy wastelands of Hell.****Her twin sister framed her, and her perfect family was destroyed on Christmas Eve.Things got worse when her husband handed her a divorce agreement. A month later, rumors spread that she had died in prison from depression.Six years later, she returned with a new face to take her revenge. She was beautiful but dangerous.Daniel felt both devastated and irritated when he saw the mysterious woman. She had the same name as his dead ex-wife, whom he hated most and the one he believed was responsible for his grandfather’s death.Despite his anger, he couldn’t deny the strong attraction he felt toward her.In fact, he was fatally obsessed and addicted to her, and the anger that had controlled him for six years slowly started to crumble.

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.

I have a foster father…

Um, that’s not the important part. I just want to say, why doesn’t he understand the differences between boys and girls in this world? He insists a pornographic picture is actually a diagram of acupuncture points. And also…why did he raise me as a boy for 15 years?! It’s impressive that he can write prescriptions, but I studied poisons.

But, why is he a Fang Hua Beast…