THE CEO AND ME! - Chapter 133 - A SMALL JOB!

Transform into Divine Dragon and dominate the world!

Outdated game streamer Fang Zhou was invited to a romance reality show, but he discovered that out of the five female guests on the show, four were his ex-girlfriends whom he had wronged.He told the pure school beauty: “You’re too innocent, I prefer someone more seductive.”He told the top-tier female star: “Your voice is too high-pitched, I prefer a natural one.”…Facing his abnormal ex-girlfriends, Fang Zhou originally just wanted to keep a low profile, but unexpectedly, the audience started shipping him with his ex-girlfriends.The live broadcast room’s popularity skyrocketed, each episode became explosively popular, and advertisements flooded in.Later, when the ex-girlfriends discovered each other’s identities, he was pressed into a small dark room, looking up at the women’s exquisite faces, and heard them say, “If you don’t behave, we’ll turn you into a specimen, so you’ll never leave us.”Fang Zhou: “I’m doomed, all my wronged ex-girlfriends have turned yandere.”

Yang Yi, along with everyone else, is thrust upon a Maritime Survival Game.Some lucky individuals possess special ships; the Iron Heart is armed to the teeth, the Swift Wind is so fast it’s almost invisible, and the Ironhead charges forward with a massive ram.Only the Nightmare, Yang Yi’s ghost ship, has strange and gory elements.The protagonist’s journey won’t be smooth sailing — this is not a story for the weak-hearted.

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.”