"So you're saying you're still useless except for getting fatter?"
Little Hei fell silent for a few seconds. "I wouldn't call this fat..."
"You bastard." After a pause, Fang Zhiyi said, "I think my emotions have stabilized quite a bit."
Little Hei nodded. "Because they stayed in your original body." It offered an analogy, "It's like going out to collect scrap, then coming back home to store it when your bag gets full—something like that."
"..." Fang Zhiyi found it hard to imagine what might happen if he ever returned.
Little Hei noticed his concern. "Relax, when you go back this time, all those emotions will be taken by the satisfied versions of you. Otherwise, why do you think they’re content?"
Slowly opening his eyes, Fang Zhiyi first glanced around his surroundings.
Little Hei's voice sounded in his ear: "Want to see the plot?"
Fang Zhiyi shot it a sidelong glance, only to find it had shrunk into a tiny ball, looking like a fly.
"You..."
"The Heavenly Dao of this world is a bit too fierce. Better lay low when you can't win." Little Hei knew when to bend. "So, wanna see the plot or not?"
"Obviously. How else would I know which story this is?"
A segment of the plot flooded his mind.
Fang Jianguo and his wife Chen Meihua were famously kind-hearted. Fang Jianguo worked as an office clerk at a modest company, while Chen Meihua held a clerical job at a factory. They shared one defining trait: a love for doing good deeds. They had met during one such act of kindness and later married, raising three children—their eldest son Fang Xiao, second son Fang Yang, and youngest daughter Fang Yue.
On paper, such a family should have been the envy of many. But reality told a different story.
Fang Jianguo and Chen Meihua were renowned for their generosity. If an elderly neighbor fell ill, they rushed to buy medicine or arrange medical care. If a tenant couldn’t pay rent, they willingly lent money. But their charity grew so vast that their own children could barely endure it.
After receiving gratitude from visitors and minor media coverage, the couple resolved to expand their goodwill further. They were no longer satisfied with small acts like online fundraising or helping elderly neighbors air their quilts.
Chen Meihua’s social media was perpetually filled with screenshots of donations to struggling students, care packages delivered to impoverished families, and thank-you letters—all showered with likes and praise. This validation left them both glowing with satisfaction.
Fang Xiao, in the midst of his most demanding academic year—11th grade—approached his parents with a payment slip in hand. "Dad, Mom, the school needs the materials and tutoring fees next week. It’s 800 yuan total." His head hung low, his voice barely audible, as if he already knew the outcome.
Chen Meihua didn’t look up, busy folding a nearly new men’s shirt. "Got it. Go finish your homework. We’ll figure out the money."
Fang Jianguo, however, paid no attention to his son. Instead, he sighed while staring at his phone. "Ah, Meihua, look—this college student’s father is seriously ill. The kid’s working part-time while taking care of his family. How heartbreaking."
Chen Meihua leaned over to look, her eyes soon welling with tears. "So tragic. Should we donate to him?"
Fang Jianguo pondered. "We should give more. Otherwise, it won’t be enough to help."
Fang Xiao’s grip tightened on the crumpled slip. Only then did Fang Jianguo notice him. "Why are you still standing there? Go study. I promised Uncle Lin you’d tutor his daughter later."
They didn’t just perform good deeds themselves—they constantly demanded their children follow suit.
Only the youngest, Fang Yue, idolized them, thrilled when classmates and teachers praised her parents as "good people."
Fang Xiao never handed in the fee. When his teacher questioned him, he mumbled that his family couldn’t afford it yet. On his way out, he overheard the teacher mutter, "They’re doing charity in this financial state? Can’t even take care of themselves! How absurd."
Fang Xiao’s face burned with shame.
Returning home, he tried asking for the money again but overheard his parents talking.
"...Did you transfer that 2,000 yuan?" his mother asked.
"Done. They just texted their thanks—said it came just in time," his father replied, satisfaction dripping from his voice. "That kid’s had it rough. We did a good thing."
"Yeah," his mother sighed. "But what about Xiaoxiao’s tuition... Maybe I’ll ask the teacher for an extension tomorrow?"
"Go ahead. It’s our own kid—the teacher will understand. Helping others is more urgent. He’ll manage. He’s sensible."
"They’re sensible"—this was Fang Jianguo and Chen Meihua’s mantra. As if being "their own children" meant they should inherently understand their parents’ "greater love" and always yield to their "noble acts."
Fang Yang fared no better. When his school required new uniforms, he pleaded for days before his parents half-heartedly agreed. But the money never came. Instead, he watched his mother return home, beaming, with a large bag of brand-new clothes—for a struggling tenant who had just moved into their neighborhood. Among the items were women’s coats, seemingly more generously chosen than anything she’d ever bought him.
He opened his mouth to ask about his uniform money, but under his mother’s reproachful gaze—"How can you be so selfish? They need it more than we do"—he swallowed his words. In the end, he wore his faded old uniform, sitting silently in a corner while his classmates flaunted their crisp new ones.
Little Fang Yue once came home near tears, begging for a cartoon backpack like her desk mate’s. Chen Meihua hugged her gently. "Sweetheart, I know you want it. But remember that child on the news? The one who carried books in a plastic bag because she had no backpack? Let’s save our money to buy her one instead, okay? You’re a good girl—you’ll agree, won’t you?"
Fang Yue didn’t fully understand, but her chest ached with unfairness. Why did that stranger’s backpack matter more than hers? She craved the praise of being a "good girl," not endless demands to "be sensible" and "step aside." Yet under her mother’s hopeful gaze, she nodded faintly, as if grasping something unspoken.
The tragedy struck on a frigid night.
Years of malnutrition and anxiety had left one child’s body frail. Shivering under a threadbare blanket during the temperature drop, he spiked a fever by morning.
Chen Meihua took him to a nearby clinic, where the doctor warned it might be pneumonia and urged hospitalization. But she hesitated.
] [Lone Wolf, No Male Gaze] [Protagonist is pursued early on; extreme protagonist-stans, stay away!] The "Carnival Paradise" descends and slowly devours the real world in the form of a game. By chance, Zhu Yan awakens the talent [Roleplay], becoming one of the first beta players. He thought he could develop safely, but after clearing the first instance, he is branded by humanity as the chief culprit behind the game's spread—a traitorous villain. A villain? Who would ever... become one! He'll be the villain! From then on, Zhu Yan is not only a player but also a lackey for the Carnival Paradise. Between the straight path and the crooked path, he chooses the con. With his left hand, he dons the villain's mantle, staging scenes within instances, infuriating players who decry him as a despicable traitor, all while the game happily promotes him. With his right hand, he joins the non-human organization "Fangcun Mountain," which opposes the Carnival Paradise, transforming into a mysterious player who slaughters game bosses, earning cheers of "Long live the expert!" from fellow players. Gradually, Zhu Yan rises to become an S-rank human player in Fangcun Mountain's archives, while also being the Carnival Paradise's certified top game Boss. But when the final war erupts and both major factions place their hopes in him— Players tag his various aliases: "Experts, this offensive depends on you." The Carnival Paradise's supreme Boss throws an arm around his neck: "Bro, you're the iron, I'm the steel; you can't let me down again!"
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
