Growing Fond of You, Mr Nian - Chapter 1777 - I Think He Really Likes You

Her first encounter with Qin Sijue is an unexpected one. While trying to hide from her pursuers, she accidentally barges into his changing room. Yet, their paths crosses again fatefully—after a fake marriage, she legally becomes his bride. She imagines that they will only interact before the agreement ends, after which they would have nothing to do with each other. However, Qin Sijue comes over with two red booklets—their wedding certificate. “Take them for an appraisal and see if they’re real”.

He just became the newly-crowned movie emperor when he died a tragic (actually, very stupid) death. On his way to cross the NaiHe bridge, he managed to evade Meng Po and not drink her soup. Thus keeping the memories of the life that he just had.

But he would never have imagined that he would be reincarnated hundreds of thousands of years later. In the Interstellar era! If it happened to other guys, they would definitely want to be a mecha warrior. Don’t most men dream of that at least once in their life? But sadly, that’s not for him.

There’s only one goal in his mind – to be the number one star in the Interstellar era.

With the knowledge and skills he got from his past life, he would definitely achieve it.

But who was this annoying person who kept on pestering him?

A certain prince smiled in a scary and crazy way: Cook food for me or else die.

= a few months later =

A certain prince leaned over and moved his face closer: I don’t need food, I could just eat you.

A bad tempered yandere gong X a reincarnated movie emperor shou

*NaiHe bridge – a bridge that souls crossed to enter reincarnation

**Meng Po – the lady on the Naihe bridge who gives out soup that lets the souls forget their memories, thus entering the cycle of reincarnation in a clean slate.

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.”

In the rural northeastern mountainous regions stands a tiny Buddhist temple, named One Finger Temple. It isn’t a large one but it is extremely miraculous.

The temple has rice that emanates an aromatic fragrance.

The temple has sweet and refreshing water that rivals ambrosia.

The temple has Buddhas that grant wishes to the sincere.

The temple isn’t large but it has everything. The temple isn’t large but it has flourishing incense offerings that far exceed all temples. The temple isn’t large but it attracts both citizens and foreigners that line up overnight…

The temple has a bald but handsome monk. Every day, he would bawl, “I want to renounce asceticism! I want to marry a chick that’s not too pretty, have a cute baby, and lead a stable life!”