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... ouldn't help but want to pick her in his arms.

She must be feeling pain there.

However, looking at the girl who was staring at even his arm when he had put it around her shoulder outside the room, He Jian doubted that she will let him do what he wanted to do.

So he stayed silent and tried to help her in whatever he could do.

Still, a part of his heart was very bothered …very bothered by the fact that he couldn't pick Mo Roulan in his arms…that she didn't like it. ...

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Shen Tang woke up on the way to distribution, and found that the world was very unscientific.

The divine stone descended from the sky, and a hundred kingdoms competed for each other.

Wen condenses the heart, and the export comes true.

Gathering martial arts and courage, splitting mountains and breaking seas.

What she thought was a pretty boy, saying “Hold the gun and jump the horse”, the next second the armor is attached to the body, the spear is in hand, and one person forms an army, and thousands of troops can kill seven in and seven out!

The tuberculosis ghost in her eyes, she said “the stars are scattered all over the world”, the sky is like a round cover, the land is like a chess game, and the formation of troops is easy to come by!

This TM can’t be considered unscientific!

It is clear that the coffin of science has been nailed to death by theology!

And she—

“My lord, there is a severe drought in Beijun, why don’t you cry?”

Shen Tang: “…”

“My lord, Nanzhou flood, why don’t you smile more?”

Shen Tang: “…”

———————

Looking at the ten bowls of rice that she killed, the pockets that were cleaner than her face, and a group of villagers who were starving for food, harboring malicious intentions and causing trouble all day long, Shen Tang, the village chief who was suspected of being the reincarnation of the rice bucket and a true soul painter, had to give up his beloved He was forced to embark on the road of applying for a job as a prince.

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“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

And this is exactly why I despise this character, Yes, He is a villain with my name but does it matter, no, the problem is this guy's weight he is so heavy that this tub of lard is weighing me down, literally.

For someone who prides themselves on muscle, nothing's worse than “fat,” and this guy before me? Well, he's a prime example of that.

“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

After an arduous struggle, I finally made my way out of the room, causing servants carrying a litter¹ to scurry over. They lowered it, creating a path for me to step onto it.

I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

“You damn god! I hope the protagonist of your favorite novel gets NTRed!”

“We're here, young master.”

Can you believe it? his father's office is just thirty steps away from this pumpkin room, yet he insists on using a litter.

“Give me a hand.”

I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

As for my feelings? This old man right here is the reason this chubby exists. Not that I give a darn about my indulgent father.

“I'm alright, Dad.”

Yes, imagine this: as a noble, this old man spoiled this pumpkin so much that he thinks he can go around scolding the mansion's maids and servants.

“Take a seat. Hey, fetch his chair!”

You might wonder why he doesn't sit on a regular chair. Well, that's because the chair is custom-made to accommodate this hippo-sized frame.

“What's going on, Dad?”

Seriously, why would he summon this big old hippo over to his quarters? There's gotta be a reason for it....

“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

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