Assimilate All Talents - Chapter 65: Knew All Along

Pei Shiyi, who had been dead for hundreds of years, was suddenly resurrected. He was poor, homeless and was an unregistered resident. In order to settle down, Pei Shiyi took over a cat cafe.

The cat cafe was poorly managed and on the verge of closing down, there were only two to three real kittens.

Pei Shiyi fed the kittens and set a small goal for himself: for example, first, become the best cat cafe in this city. So a year later, a cat cafe called Xian Chan rose to prominence.

The Jin Hua cat that practiced Daoism for hundreds of years became a fat orange cat.

The Bi An came here and became a golden British shorthair.

The lively and active leopard cat was a real leopard.

It also came with a fluff-obsessed, non-human Director of Administration. After sniffing* the fat orange cat, the leopard cat and the ragdoll, he even began sniffing* Pei Shiyi.

The fluffy Pei Shiyi, who was a real phoenix: Do you want to die?

Director Bao: Sniffing cats is fun, sniffing you is addictive.

- Description from Novelupdates

After a long slumber, Zhou Yi wakes up in a wasteland era. He discovers that the new humans, to avoid the daylight supremacy of the Guangna species, only dare to come out at night, meekly whispering in the darkness and scavenging for trash. Exasperated, he questions how humans could have deteriorated to such a state. Lamenting that each generation seems to be worse than the last, Zhou Yi decides to show them the ways of the older generation. Embarking on a quest to transform the wasteland, he aims to rebuild the lost splendor of humanity.

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.