Early in the morning, Fang Zhaodi was awakened by the sound of conversation outside her door. Listening carefully, she recognized her younger brother discussing the bride price, along with the pleading voices of her father-in-law and mother-in-law.
A pang of disappointment struck Fang Zhaodi’s heart. Once he gets the money, he’ll leave, won’t he? Just like before—she’d work hard to earn money for him, only for him to turn around and walk away without a second thought. The mere idea of facing her husband’s cruel family again filled her with dread.
But then, her fingers brushed against the razor-sharp firewood knife her brother had sharpened for her.
Fang Zhiyi’s words echoed in her ears:
"They’re just human too—two shoulders carrying one head, same as anyone else."
Fortunately, it seemed her brother hadn’t reached an agreement with them. Instead, he pushed the door open and looked at her. "Get up, it’s time to eat."
Breakfast was simple—just noodles—but Fang Zhiyi wasn’t picky, silently devouring his meal.
"Uh, Xiao Fang..." Old Man Huang finally spoke up.
Fang Zhiyi lifted his gaze to meet the old man’s eyes.
"We can’t stay home all day today. The crops need tending, and someone has to watch the fish pond... You see..." His eyes flicked toward Huang Minhao. Fang Zhiyi followed his gaze, taking in the man’s limp arms, and smirked.
"No rush. There’s still unfinished business."
Then he turned to Fang Zhaodi. "Feeling better?"
Fang Zhaodi nodded. After two days of rest, she had regained much of her strength.
Fang Zhiyi clapped his hands. "Good, good. Now, how about our loving family plays a little game?"
The Huang family’s faces twisted in terror, especially Huang Minhao—the usual ferocity in his eyes had vanished completely.
Fang Zhiyi pulled out a few stools and gestured for the three Huangs to sit. Though hesitant, they obeyed—after all, refusal would only earn Huang Minhao another beating.
Then Fang Zhiyi produced a smooth, slender wooden rod.
Fang Zhaodi froze. That... that was the rod Huang Minhao used to beat her. Sometimes Old Madam Huang would whip her with it too.
"Take it." Fang Zhiyi’s tone brooked no argument. Fang Zhaodi numbly reached out and accepted it.
Standing beside her, Fang Zhiyi pointed at Huang Minhao. "Show me where he used this on you. How did he hit you? Point it out."
Huang Minhao’s face was a mask of terror. Fang Zhaodi’s heart pounded wildly.
"Hurry up." Fang Zhiyi’s smile didn’t reach his icy tone.
Staring blankly at her husband, Fang Zhaodi heard Fang Zhiyi’s urging and, against her will, began recalling the scenes of his abuse. A moment later, her trembling hand lifted the rod, pointing at Huang Minhao’s forearm, shoulder, chest, stomach... Her expression shifted too—from fear to something hollow.
Huang Minhao’s legs shook violently, his eyes darting between Fang Zhaodi and Fang Zhiyi in sheer panic. This madman—was he helping his sister take revenge?
Fang Zhiyi’s whisper brushed Fang Zhaodi’s ear.
"Now, stand in front of him with the rod. Stare at him. Stare at the places where he hurt you."
Fang Zhaodi wanted to turn back, but Fang Zhiyi gave her a gentle push.
Hesitantly, she took a step forward, now face-to-face with her crippled husband.
And suddenly, she realized—this man who had always towered over her, whose eyes had once been full of cruelty, was now trembling with fear. He was... afraid?
"See? He’s scared," Fang Zhiyi murmured.
"Please, spare my son!" Old Madam Huang begged, her voice quivering. Though she loathed Fang Zhiyi, she had no choice but to plead—this lunatic might snap at any moment.
"Ah, almost forgot about you." Fang Zhiyi turned. "Sis, what about her?"
Fang Zhaodi’s gaze shifted from Huang Minhao to her mother-in-law, flinching under the woman’s venomous glare.
Fang Zhiyi chuckled. "Sis, keep an eye on them. I’ll be right back."
The moment he left, the Huangs’ masks slipped.
"You little whore! Get that madman brother of yours out of here!"
"Zhaodi, quick—go report him to the authorities! Now!"
"If you don’t obey, you’re dead!"
Faced with meek Fang Zhaodi, the Huangs reverted to their old selves.
Fang Zhaodi shrank back, biting her lip anxiously. She truly didn’t know what to do.
"Sounds like you’re having fun with the insults." Fang Zhiyi’s voice cut through the air. The Huangs whirled around to find him standing right behind them.
"Not very family-like, is it? Such foul language." Fang Zhiyi’s tone was eerily pleasant as he smiled at Fang Zhaodi. "Now, say back to them exactly what they just said to you."
He added, "No need to embellish. Just repeat it word for word."
Fang Zhaodi stood frozen, bewildered.
Fang Zhiyi’s voice whispered again in her ear.
"Remember how they’ve always cursed at you."
"Did it hurt when they hit you?"
"Did it ever feel unfair?"
Finally, Fang Zhaodi let out a scream, shrieking with all her might: "You’re the whore! You’re the trash! Your whole family is worthless!" By the last word, her voice cracked with tears.
Fang Zhiyi exhaled deeply, hands clasped behind his back as he watched his sister collapse to the ground, sobbing. Across from her, Old Madam Huang gaped in disbelief.
Suddenly, Huang Minhao lurched to his feet, knocking over his stool as he staggered toward the door. "Mom! Dad! Hold him off! I’ll get the authorities!"
Fang Zhiyi merely kicked Old Man Huang to the ground, then hurled a stool with perfect aim. It struck Huang Minhao square in the back, sending him sprawling with a howl.
Turning, Fang Zhiyi fixed Old Madam Huang—who had been poised to lunge but now stood frozen—with a warning glare.
"Sis," he said, pointing at Huang Minhao, "want to hit him?"
Fang Zhaodi, still stunned by what had just happened, looked up at her brother with swollen, uncertain eyes.
Fang Zhiyi pressed on. "He beat you. Humiliated you. Even when you begged, he never let up. Right?"
Bitterness, resentment, sorrow, rage—it all surged inside her.
Then she let out a furious cry.
Huang Minhao never imagined his meek, punching bag of a wife would dare raise a hand against him! Though her swings with the rod were clumsy and weak—she was actually hitting him!
Fang Zhaodi flailed the rod wildly, screaming as she did. Fang Zhiyi watched, satisfied.
But behind him, Old Madam Huang crept forward, a shovel in hand.
Fang Zhiyi seemed oblivious—but Fang Zhaodi, mid-outburst, saw it.
"Little brother!" she screamed. Her frail body erupted with energy as she lunged, tackling Old Madam Huang before the shovel could strike. Pinning the old woman down, she slapped her across the face—once, twice, again.
"Call me names, will you? Hit me, will you?"
reezy rom-com) Good news: Jiang Liu is quite the ladies' man. Bad news: He’s lost his memory. Lying in a hospital bed, Jiang Liu listens to a parade of goddesses spouting "absurd claims," feeling like the world is one giant game of Werewolf. "Jiang Liu, I’m your first love." "Jiang Liu, you’re my boyfriend—she’s your ex." "Jiang Liu, we’re close friends who’ve shared a bed, remember?" "Jiang Liu, I want to have your baby." The now-lucid Jiang Liu is convinced this must be some elaborate scam... until someone drops the bombshell: "The day before you lost your memory, you confessed your feelings—and got into a relationship." Jiang Liu is utterly baffled. So... who the hell is his actual girlfriend?! ... Before recovering his memories, Jiang Liu must navigate this minefield of lies and sincerity, fighting to protect himself from these women’s schemes. But things spiral even further out of control as more people show up at his doorstep—each with increasingly unhinged antics. On the bright side, the memories he lost due to overwhelming trauma seem to be resurfacing. Great news, right? So why are they all panicking now?
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
end. Thus one must continue to cultivate, and become a saint or great emperor, in order to prolong one's life. Chen Xia, however, completely reversed this. Since his transmigration, he has gained immortality, and also a system that awards him with attribute points for every year he lives. Thus between the myriad worlds, the legend of an unparalleled senior appeared. "A gentleman takes revenge; it is never too late even after ten thousand years." "When you were at your peak I yielded, now in your old age I shall trample on you." - Chen Xia
+【Epic Battles!】 "Your Highness, they say Linxi Temple is miraculous. Won’t you make a wish?" "A wish? It should be making wishes to me." "That may be so, but since you’re already here..." "..." "Fine. Then grant this princess a consort to play with." "He must be obedient, devoted, and utterly infatuated with my body—so much so that he’d kneel and kiss my feet." "Your Highness, that’s not a consort. That’s a dog." "Then add clever, witty, heroic, ambitious yet pragmatic..." "Hmm, that’s enough for now. I’ll add more later." After tossing out these words half in jest, Princess Anle departed the temple—only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the Bodhisattva statue smiling at her. Meanwhile, Yang An, fresh out of university, was having a very bad day. Good news: He’d transmigrated into another world with a cheat granting tenfold combat power. Bad news: He’d immediately fallen into the clutches of a certain villainess. Good news: Said villainess possessed peerless beauty and royal status. Bad news: She was absolutely monstrous!!! In the frozen wilderness, Yang An knelt beneath Qin Guo’er’s feet, drenched in sweat despite the cold. Desperately clutching her porcelain-perfect foot—the very one poised to crush his throat—he could only think: How do I survive this?! Need answers NOW!
