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... ain Village, was being steadied by Qiu Xiya, his body trembling slightly. Qiu Xiya's face was a mask of frosty anger.

The village chief advanced a couple of steps and addressed the domineering young man with a shaky voice, “Immortal Master, our village has a mere hundred souls. Twenty percent are children, and forty percent are the elderly, the infirm, and women. Only about thirty able-bodied adults can hunt in the mountains. We subsist on a few dozen acres of farmland and earn our keep ...

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Ye Zhi not only inherited the shabby house, but also the marriage agreement with a man. The man who met his true love disliked his fiancee in all ways and asked for divorce.

In order to express their guilt, the man’s family decided to make up for Ye Zhi. But she didn’t want a dime (single cent), so she left.

Next second, Ye Zhi was picked up by Rolls Royce.

Gu Ren, the son of the richest man, had a tough life and couldn’t live past 30 years. Only Ye Zhi, born on the cloudy day of the lunar year, could make him survive.

Ye Zhi and Gu Ren got married. Gu Ren gave her a bank card. All she has to do is——

Spend money for him! Squander his fortune!

Ye Zhi bought a Lamborghini for Gu Ren, but he had an accident as soon as he drove the car.

As soon as she bought some Hermes platinum bags for herself, Gu Ren signed a more than one billion worth of deal.

It turned out that the money could only be spent on herself. More she loses, the more prosperous Gu Ren became.

Since then, her life had changed completely. Her villa grandest in the Forbidden City .

The man thought that Ye Zhi, who had been divorced, must have suffered a lot. Until one day, he saw his former fiancee walking in the street, followed by a Rolls Royce.

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This man is a super rich man hundreds of times richer than his family!

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Weary reader, it is an honor for you to choose this book in this heavy, dark library room.

Somewhat sadly, the book is sick.

Your fingers should be able to feel the raised growths on the surface of the book cover,

The words written in the old days are like parasites rooted in the pages of the book, hoping that someone can observe their wriggling,

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