PREVIEW

... medical facility while assuming that the latter was against it. But Tory shut him up before he could say so:

"Viktor, we can't afford to take me to any hospital or infirmary in our current situation. Maybe we should…"

...

"Are you fucking crazy, Tori?"

Viktor saw his friend's blood spreading across his clothes and started getting desperate. As he hastily searched around for anything that might help him help Tory, he spoke up. Anything that he could use to stop the ...

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He Zening had always felt that novels depicting the life of a Company President were good for passing time, but insulting to the IQ. Still, having read countless novels of this genre, never did she imagine that someday she would transmigrate into one of them. To make matters worse, the plots were so similar that she could not remember which novel it was. She was left with no choice but to assume the role of a secretary to the President.

The secretaries in novels ran errands for the President, assisted him in pursuing women, helped him keep the flames of love burning, and even took the blame for him if necessary. But a real-life secretary? They were blamed by those in power, sometimes hurt and reprimanded wrongly.

If it were not for the excellent pay and necessity, she would have already bolted out of the door. And like all curious bystanders, He Zening wanted to see the plot happen before her eyes; the President meeting the protagonist! A villain standing between the love of the leads! The side characters!

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My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.

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