The Player Hides His Past - Chapter 409

Just because she glanced at him once more in the crowd, she inexplicably “seduced” Capital's young Mr. Peary. So—“Uncle, I'm stuck at the police station.” Soon, a large group of black-clad, gun-holding people stormed into the police station, nearly blowing it sky-high.“Uncle, someone says she is your wife and told me to take good care of her.” In an instant, the woman disappeared, and a certain man physically demonstrated to her that he only has one wife.In public, he is the cold and ruthless CEO of MC. In private, he is a rogue husband who tries every means to coax her into bed.One day, a certain woman couldn't stand it any longer, clutching her waist and sobbing, “You're sleeping in the study tonight.”The man hooked his lips, “You seduced me first, you proposed to me, you wanted to have a child...”

Before the disfigurement, everyone loved Ling Chunan. After the disfigurement, Ling Chunan became a plague that everyone avoided. He was held on captive by his own agent afterwards because he was so ugly now, desecrating his love. Finally, Ling Chunan chewed himself to death because he was starving. After his death, a thing that claimed to be the counterattack system 098 found him.

A long time after, a certain counterattack system of a host with a 100% success rate posted a message in the System Forums.

《Emergency Help Request, my host is a masochist! He won’t be happy if every meals doesn’t have meat, and if he doesn’t have meat to eat, he will start to gnaw himself! How to treat this illness?!》

Great God : No need. I have a fast recovering ability. I will let him bite me.

- Description from Novelupdates

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.