The Widow "Misses" Her Villainous Late Husband - Chapter 57

The servant looked at the grieving princess. “Your Highness, the Regent Prince sent your scholar fiancé to the Western Butcher’s daughter!” 

The princess gritted her teeth, speaking to her servant that it matters not as she has other suitors in line. Many days later, much to her dismay, the servant ran in a hurry. “Your Highness, the Regent Prince expressed his intention of becoming your suitor! All other men in line were sold to Gou Lan Red District!”

The princess was distressed. She said to her servant it matters not. She’ll soon be married to Prince Fuma. Then the uneventful came. The servant once more ran to her, almost tripping in the process. “Your Highness, Prince Fuma was imprisoned at home! Meanwhile, there’s a red sedan chair waiting at your residence for your marriage! It was led by the Regent Prince!

The princess was stunned. For a day such as this to come, it seemed impossible. This nothing but a sad story of a female boss crossing back in time to hold the thick thighs of the big boss. But while raising him, she was eaten in the process.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the midst of the blue and purple neon lights, under the gray, metallic sky, it is the frontier of all data, the aftermath of a scientific revolution, also the border of fiction and reality.

Steel versus body; the past and the future.

Here, the Outer World and the Inner World exist alongside each other. It seems like the wall of time is right in front of your eyes.

Darkness gradually swallows the world.

But listen, my friend, we cannot use kindness to survive the darkness. We need fire.

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

“I am Yang Jian. By the time you read this, I've already been dead...”A strange parchment, an eye that peeks into the darkness. This is the memoir of a person who survived.