Bamboo Forest Manager - Chapter 170: Gym

There is a famous fairytale. A kindhearted girl whose father and stepmother got married and became a family of five with her two stepsisters. The poor girl who was condemned by her stepmother and stepsisters when her father died. The very fairytale, Cinderella.

After the death of Fu Sinian, Yu Duo’s heart shattered into pieces. As his widow, she was the recipient of Fu Sinian’s massive amount of inheritance. She spent her days drowning herself with alcohol and was depressed all the time. She mourned her late husband with the companionship of her designer purses, designer jewelries, and money that could last her several lifetimes.

But only Fu Sinian knew the truth — that after his death, this woman hosted parties, lived in their mansion, drove expensive sport cars, traveled the world, and flirted with men. She was having the time of her life.

Fu Sinian wasn’t so angry that his soul dissipated; quite the contrary, he was so angry that he had come back to life!

Fu Sinian, who had come back to life, looked at the mourning Yu Duo and smiled devilishly.

“We are on! Watch me make you fall in love with me for real this time!”

Chu Feng, Reincarnated In a Commoner Family, Lost His Parents At An Early age, living with his younger sister In a world where Nobles and martial Clans Reign Supreme.

Just When He gave up on his dreams, He Awakened his Ability That Can Increase His Talent in martial Arts and Superpowers By Million Fold.

……………………………………………………………

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.