After Marrying the Officer - Chapter 1138 - 44

The young president, Yu Shu, is vigorous and unsmiling. The outside world commented that she is a high-altitude flower that can be seen from afar but not to be played. Prejudice.
At first, she hated Zhao Qingying, just because this woman delayed her brother’s study, and later, it was because… she was too profligate.
Xiaolang’s hooves should be cured!
Later, really fragrant——
One day, my younger brother saw his idol sitting in his living room, and said pleasantly, “Brother Ying, why are you here?!”
Yu Shu said meaningfully: “Well, it’s indeed a big wedding.”

Zhao Qingying’s flourishing beauty is the center of the topic, the darling of the media and the favorite of the paparazzi, and there will never be a shortage of gossip targets around her. One day, she was interviewed.
Host: “The boss of the hotel is dating you, is it true?”
Zhao Qingying: “My brother.”
Host: “The financial tycoon is rumored to be your benefactor, is the news reliable?”
Zhao Qingying: “My father.”
The host asked weakly: “Then Yu Shu, who has been in frequent contact with you recently, who are you?”
Zhao Qingying looked at the camera, her eyebrows and eyes curved: “My wife.”

The cold president who is obsessed with making money from games X the big star who only cares about teasing girls

[Don’t ask, it’s sweet to ask! 】
Content tags: powerful rich family entertainment circle sweet text
Search keywords: Protagonist: Yu Shu (shu), Zhao Qingying ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:
One sentence introduction: can’t laugh.jpg

- Description from novelbuddy

In an alternate world, a demon disrupts dynasties, harvests souls, and refines a banner of ten thousand souls.Under the heavenly tribulation, his body and soul are destroyed, but the Ten Thousand Souls Banner protects his undying spirit. Unable to possess a body, he's countered instead.A laid-back young man in society, wielding the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, roams the human world.With the Ten Thousand Souls Banner in hand, I refine a Golden Core with good deeds.A slice-of-life story with no ambition for conquest, helping the departed fulfill their wishes, gaining merit to repair the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, and enjoying a laid-back life.

of the family. He had to care for his grandparents in place of his father, show respect to his uncles, maintain brotherly love...In this life, he only wanted to breat free from these bloodsuckers, find a sugar “daddy”, and by the way, nourish his stomach.*****Song Jiawen felt something was weird. That guy from next door—who had to return to the countryside to study because his father was imprisoned—suddenly switched from literature to science and joined her class, and even moved to the seat behind her. Ostensibly, he did it so she could tutor him in physics and biology, but why did she always feel like he had an ulterior motive?*****Years later, as Jiang Yan watched the soup simmering in the pot while soothing his son in his arms, he glanced back at his wife, who was leisurely watching TV on the sofa with her legs crossed, and thought miserably, this meal ticket he had married into was proving to be quite a struggle!

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”