Baseball: A Two-Way Player - Chapter 431 - 69: The Ticket Secured

The female Alpha, Jin Zhexi, was accidentally involved in the vortex of time and space during a mysterious mission, and traveled to the 21st century. Because of her agility and gender advantages, she became the most neglected and excluded by chance, with a cold and indifferent personality—— -Miss Three of the Su Group, Su Mochen’s personal bodyguard…
It’s unbelievable that she, an Alpha who can be considered super A in the post-civilized world, can only be coaxed patiently in front of the cold-tempered third lady…
If we had to talk about where she could overwhelm Miss San, it was probably only on the bed? Ignore the episode where you get kicked out of bed for doing too hard…
This is a story of a bodyguard helping an unappreciated illegitimate daughter to counterattack and become a big boss, with full aura and reaching the pinnacle of life…

Heart-warming loyal dog Gong VS reserved and cold and proud shou: slowly tear off her abstinence mask! Capture her body and mind!

Content tags: childbirth fantasy space karmic encounter supernatural power
Search keywords: Protagonist: Jin Zhexi, Su Mochen ┃ Supporting roles: Boys, the pre-received articles are also very good ┃ Others: pre-received articles “Lure her into her arms” “I am her medicine”
One-sentence introduction: Across time and space, I want to fall in love with you.
Conception: Because of you, the world is worthwhile.

- Description from novelbuddy

Tong Huaqiong transmigrated to ancient times into the body of the malicious widow Tong Dajiao and witnessed the execution scene where the malicious widow and her children were wiped out. She returned to the year Tong Dajiao had just become a widow.At the age of forty, she was already a grandmother, embodying the roles of both a wicked stepmother and mother-in-law. Naturally, the children she raised were bad bamboo shoots.The only slight comfort she felt was that, as a widow, she didn't have to serve an old husband.In this transmigration story, she lacked all the golden fingers like systems or noble birth.She didn't even have the chance to rise through marriage. Who could a widow marry? Especially with a bunch of burdens.She could only rely on herself and her bunch of bad bamboos at home.Revitalize the family reputation, correct the children's behavior.Treat stepchildren, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters kindly, dismiss the plan of her youngest son to sell his granddaughter to a wealthy family in exchange for tuition fees, force the youngest son to strive through education on his own, use a stick to awaken the second son from being lazy and spoiled to becoming the family's backbone, and rid the youngest daughter of laziness, greed, and love-brain.Reclaim wasteland and plant crops using modern scientific knowledge, turning saline-alkali land into fertile fields, leading the whole family towards a moderately prosperous life; start a business from street vending, selling steamed buns, pastries, marinated dishes, raising pigs, beekeeping... gradually expanding their commercial territory.

It was only last year that I realized that the world I had been reincarnated into was the world of the Romantic Comedy book. What's worse, the person I had reincarnated as was someone featured in the book.A running gag character who the Main Characters ran into at the most random times, of no use, and who would disappear as quickly as he appeared—an Extra C.Last year. A year before starting High School.It was already too late.Extra C had already become...

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”