Fang Zhiyi had never seen his mother since childhood. His father told him that his mom had run off with someone else.
His father was a simple, honest man with no remarkable talents—quiet and hardworking, earning a living through manual labor at construction sites while Fang Zhiyi was left in the care of relatives.
Because of this, Fang Zhiyi grew up knowing the bitter taste of dependence.
His uncle, Fang Jianjun, was relatively well-off and never missed an opportunity to berate Fang Zhiyi’s father in front of him, calling him foolish and incompetent, unable to even keep a wife. Whenever Fang Zhiyi came to his house for meals, Fang Jianjun would force him to squat by the doorway, giving him nothing but plain rice and pickled vegetables. His third uncle, Fang Jiangang, was a man of few words, but his wife, Liu Cuihua, spoke with a venomous tongue. At their home, Fang Zhiyi was never allowed to eat his fill and was always made to work—otherwise, he’d face a torrent of scolding.
From a young age, he listened as they cursed his father and called him an unwanted child. Naturally, his cousins followed their elders’ example.
The only time Fang Zhiyi felt happy was when his father returned home. He always brought back delicious treats and told him stories of the bustling city. His father promised to send him to school in the city—just a little more savings, and it would be possible.
Just a little more savings.
But not long after his father left for work again, news arrived—Fang Zhiyi’s father had been struck by a falling steel pipe at the construction site and died on the spot. Fang Zhiyi’s mind went blank. When the village chief took him to the hospital, all he saw was his father’s body covered by a white sheet.
The construction company took responsibility and offered compensation—about 300,000 yuan—which was temporarily held by the village committee.
The news spread quickly through the Fang family.
Before Fang Zhiyi could even process his grief, Fang Jianjun came barging into the house, grabbing his wrist and trying to drag him away.
Not to be outdone, Liu Cuihua seized his other arm.
Even his great-aunt showed up with his cousin, along with an uncle Fang Zhiyi had never met before.
"I’m his blood uncle! This money—no, this child—must come with me!"
"Ha! And I’m his aunt! And his uncle is right here! Don’t think you can take everything for yourself!"
"What about me, an old woman? Do I not count?"
His cousin leaned in and whispered a threat: "If you don’t go with my grandma, I’ll beat you up every day."
The uncle also clamored for his share.
Their argument quickly escalated into a brawl, only stopping when the village committee intervened.
Terrified, Fang Zhiyi was told by the village chief that his mother had returned.
Standing at the door was a heavily made-up woman, with a bald man looming behind her.
The woman rushed forward, hugging him tightly and wailing. The overpowering scent of her perfume nearly suffocated him.
"I was tricked back then! I’ve missed my son every single day! Now that his father’s gone, I have to take him with me!"
"Shameless woman, coming back with your lover! Where were you all these years?" Fang Jianjun spat.
"You just want the money, don’t you? Where’s the justice in this? I’m his mother—custody should be mine!"
The bald man stepped forward aggressively, and for once, the Fang family united against an outside enemy. Just as another fight was about to break out, the village chief quickly declared, "You can discuss custody later. For now, Fang Zhiyi will stay under the village committee’s care."
The Fang family soon reached an agreement—on how to split the 300,000 yuan, at least. As for Fang Zhiyi, he would rotate between households for meals. As for that shameless Lin Meilan? She could get lost!
But Lin Meilan had seen the world. After disappearing for two days, she returned with a reporter in tow. Faced with the camera, the Fang family restrained themselves.
"I’m Wang Tao, host of True Emotions! We received a plea for help—a mother, separated from her son for years, is now being blocked from reuniting with him. Why is this happening?"
In front of the camera, Lin Meilan sobbed dramatically—though with few actual tears. Wang Tao, deeply moved, handed her tissues.
Fang Zhiyi was frightened. This "mother" was a complete stranger to him, and her embrace was so tight it hurt.
Fang Jianjun and the others accused Lin Meilan of abandoning her family years ago and only returning now for the money.
Wang Tao seized on the drama, turning the microphone back to Lin Meilan, who stuck to her script and kept crying. Then, with a calculated glance, Wang Tao handed the mic to Fang Zhiyi.
Fang Zhiyi stayed silent. Truthfully, he didn’t want to go with her. He wanted to stay in his own home.
Realizing the potential of this story, Wang Tao immediately arranged for Fang Zhiyi to appear on the show.
He also informed the Fang family that, as the biological mother, Lin Meilan had legal custody rights. But the Fangs fought back, consulting someone who knew the law. In the end, it was decided that everything depended on Fang Zhiyi’s own wishes.
The show went ahead as scheduled. Fang Zhiyi, just a child, understood nothing. Dazed, he was led into the studio. The moment he sat down, the sea of faces in the audience terrified him.
Lin Meilan suddenly threw herself at him, wailing, "Zhiyi, Mom was wrong! I’ll make it up to you, I promise! Come with me!"
Fang Zhiyi froze in shock.
Lin Meilan began recounting how difficult it had been to give birth to him, how she had carried him for ten months—but not a word about why she had left him.
Fang Zhiyi tried to push her away. Wang Tao noticed and intervened. The show’s purpose was emotional catharsis—a heartwarming reunion. The audience wanted to see maternal love triumph, not relatives taking Fang Zhiyi away.
"Zhiyi, look how much your mother has suffered. She carried you for ten months. Yes, she was deceived back then, but see how remorseful she is now. Can’t you forgive her?"
Wang Tao then turned to the audience, wiping away tears. "Blood is thicker than water! How can a child reject his own mother’s love? No relative can replace a mother! We must give this woman a chance to make amends—let the child return to his mother’s arms!"
The audience, carefully arranged by the production team, chanted in unison: "Forgive her! Forgive her!" Soft, emotional music swelled in the background.
Trembling, Fang Zhiyi was trapped in his mother’s suffocating embrace.
He didn’t know how he ended up agreeing. Lin Meilan promised the village chief she would give him the best life, then took him—and the bank card holding his father’s blood money—away.
The Fang family could only stomp their feet in frustration before turning their attention to Fang Zhiyi’s empty house, scrambling to claim it for themselves.
Fang Zhiyi saw the city for the first time, though it didn’t feel as spacious as home. His mother called it a rented apartment.
Living with them was the bald man. The day they arrived, he kissed Lin Meilan without hesitation—then took the bank card.

young master of the Shen family—a figure of immense power and wealth beyond measure—and awakened the "Destined Ultimate Villain System"! His starting scenario? Running into his icy fiancée who shows up with a mountain-descending divine doctor to break off their engagement. The divine doctor arrogantly taunts: "What does your Shen family have besides a bit of stinking money? You're not even worthy of tying Qingxue's shoelaces!" Shen Fei just smiled. He completely defied the usual script: "Fine, I agree to break off the engagement. Also, notify the finance department to withdraw all investments from the Su family." Minutes later, with its capital chain severed, the Su Group teetered on the brink of bankruptcy! The once aloof and proud ice queen CEO was thrown into utter panic. That very night, she went to Shen Fei's villa, casting aside all dignity to beg and plead desperately... From then on, in this world teeming with Sons of Destiny, Shen Fei embarked on a path of extreme dimensional suppression! A mountain-descending divine doctor? Peerless medical skills? Shen Fei: "Reporting you for practicing medicine without a license! I'll gladly take your ancient medicinal cauldron and twin sister assassins." The Crooked-Smiling Dragon King? Commanding a hundred thousand soldiers with a single order? Shen Fei: "Illegal assembly and suspected treason! Let a fleet of attack helicopters sanitize the area and teach you what the state apparatus really means!" A reborn tycoon? Knows all the golden opportunities of the next decade? Shen Fei: "A trillion in capital to reverse and pump the stock market, making you blow your margin and jump on the very first day of your rebirth!" What Chosen Ones? What bearers of Heavenly Fortune? In Shen Fei's eyes, they're all just chives (i.e., suckers/marks) waiting to be harvested! Shen Fei: "Sorry, but as the Destined Ultimate Villain, I don't play by the rules of honor. I only play the game of dimensional suppression."

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.”

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!

ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!