While Fu Nanzhi went in for her examination, Shen Yi, sitting on a chair, pulled out his phone to look something up.
A quick search reminded him—the blood HCG test checks for human chorionic gonadotropin levels.
In simpler terms, it determines whether the subject is pregnant, though the results can reveal much more: early pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, miscarriage risks, and other conditions.
It’s widely used because it’s the fastest and most accurate method.
Most people wouldn’t be familiar with this, but in his simulations, Shen Yi had already fathered several children, accompanying his partners through countless check-ups, so he had a vague recollection of it.
Given the prior use of the serum, Shen Yi couldn’t believe Fu Nanzhi had any gynecological issues—which left only one possibility...
His hands trembled slightly as he considered it.
Consort Mei might enjoy teasing Fu Nanzhi, but she wouldn’t play such a cruel joke. If she’d sent Fu Nanzhi for this test without reason, she must have noticed something.
"Could luck really be on our side this quickly?"
Shen Yi scratched his head, counting the days on his fingers.
From the moment he’d administered the serum to Fu Nanzhi, only seven days and one night had passed.
Timing-wise, it wasn’t impossible—but the sheer fortune of it left even him unprepared.
Just then, Fu Nanzhi emerged, pressing a cotton swab to her fingertip.
The whole process had taken mere minutes. Meeting her gaze, Shen Yi opened his mouth to speak, but excitement surged in his chest. He forced himself to stay calm—this was still just speculation. The results would confirm it.
Fu Nanzhi had endured so much already. If this turned out to be true, it would be wonderful—but if it was a false hope, her disappointment would be crushing. He had to be mindful of her emotions.
His thoughts raced, and what came out instead was:
"Done already? That was fast."
"Yeah, blood tests are quick. Just a prick, a drop of blood, and some disinfectant."
Fu Nanzhi nodded, then added,
"The results won’t take long. Consort Mei said she’d rush them—about half an hour to an hour. Let’s go wait in her office."
"Sure."
Shen Yi took her hand, and they returned to Consort Mei’s office.
"Sit," Consort Mei said without looking up, her reading glasses perched halfway down her nose.
"I’m reviewing something. Make yourselves comfortable."
"Don’t mind me—Fu Nanzhi, help yourself to tea if you’d like."
"Got it, thanks," Fu Nanzhi replied quickly.
"Please don’t worry about us, Consort Mei."
The room fell quiet, save for the rustling of papers as Consort Mei flipped through documents.
Fu Nanzhi settled beside Shen Yi on the sofa, whispering to avoid disturbing her.
The wait dragged on, and Fu Nanzhi, having skipped breakfast, felt her stomach growl. Listless, she quietly discussed lunch options with Shen Yi, carefree for the moment.
Shen Yi, however, was far more anxious than she was—but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He shifted restlessly in his seat, waiting for the results.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. About forty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.
Consort Mei called, "Come in."
A white-coated assistant entered, placing a report on the desk.
"Director Mei, the results are in. Here you go."
With a smile, Consort Mei took it.
"Thank you, Little Han."
"Ah, no need for thanks," Little Han demurred before excusing himself.
"Well, here we are. Sorry for the wait."
Consort Mei adjusted her glasses and finally looked at the report.
Shen Yi and Fu Nanzhi exchanged a glance before moving to sit across from her, bracing themselves.
The report was a single page, front and back, its contents skimmed in seconds.
Soon, Consort Mei set it down, her expression grave as she turned to Fu Nanzhi.
Fu Nanzhi’s heart lurched. Her mind raced—was she seriously ill?
But she couldn’t believe it. In her past life, she’d been healthy, living well into her eighties or nineties. How could she suddenly have a terminal condition?
Just as her thoughts spiraled, Consort Mei’s stern facade cracked into laughter.
"Hah! Got you, didn’t I?"
"Ugh—!"
Fu Nanzhi clutched her chest, glaring.
"Consort Mei, that was mean!"
Even Shen Yi had been on edge.
"Sorry, sorry," Consort Mei chuckled, not wanting to push the joke too far.
"I’m just happy to see you so lively again."
"Don’t worry—it’s good news."
She patted Fu Nanzhi’s hand, beaming.
"Congratulations, Fu Nanzhi. You’re... pregnant!"
Fu Nanzhi froze.
"...What?"
"You’re pregnant!" Consort Mei repeated cheerfully.
"R-Really? You’re not lying to me?"
Fu Nanzhi’s voice trembled, her lips quivering.
Consort Mei swiveled her chair to face her fully, tapping the report.
"Of course not. Numbers don’t lie. Look—"
"This line shows your blood HCG levels. How could that be wrong?"
This time, the words registered—but Fu Nanzhi’s mind still struggled to process them.
Pregnancy felt like a distant concept, something that had never applied to her.
Shen Yi exhaled in relief, his excitement surpassing hers. He gripped her shoulders, calling her name joyfully.
"Fu Nanzhi!"
He marveled at Consort Mei’s perceptiveness—how had she even guessed?
Fu Nanzhi finally snapped out of her daze. Elation exploded in her chest, a tingling rush surging from her toes to her scalp, leaving her lightheaded.
Her expression flickered between shock and joy, her lips parting in a smile—only for a sob to escape instead.
Tears spilled abruptly as she laughed and cried at once, her face a mix of absurdity and heartbreak.
Shen Yi immediately pulled her into an embrace, rubbing her back soothingly, murmuring reassurances.
Fu Nanzhi clung to him, wordless, her grip tight.
Consort Mei folded her hands, smiling fondly, giving them their moment.
She couldn’t fully grasp Fu Nanzhi’s overwhelming joy, but she knew this happiness belonged solely to them.
It took a while before Fu Nanzhi finally calmed.
No news could have made her happier.

e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"

d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!

pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"

transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”