Julietta's Dressup - 26 Chapter 26. The Principality Of Bertino, Part VII

In a humble village untouched by ambition, ​Hua Jin lives an idyllic life as the adored daughter of a farming family—a rarity in an era where sons reign supreme. Content with her simple joys and doting kin, she dreams only of peace… until the skies turn vengeful.But Hua Jin has a secret: a mystical space brimming with untold resources. While others scramble when droughts scorch crops, floods drown kingdoms, and plagues darken horizons, she smirks. “We’ve got this.”Yet survival isn’t just about hoarding grain. With her family’s unwavering love as her shield, Hua Jin masterminds a laid-back revolution: turning their farm into a fortress, bartering wit for wealth, and outsmarting fate itself. Who needs panic when you’ve got a lazy genius with infinite storage and a clan that laughs in the face of doom?

(This is a sweet love story anthology, don’t be fooled by the first story!). Bai Qiuyi has a curse on her body: if she does not take the antidote, her whole body will be as painful as if her bones were being scraped. And her antidote was a specific type of men’s semen.

—The full text is sweet, super sweet, and the sugar content exceeds the standard.

As an obscured and transparent slag gamer in the gaming world, Bai Lian Hua (White Lotus) had always been fond of those trash forum posts. Until one day: “White Lotus! Go check out the forum! 233333! You’re getting flamed!!!”

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”