Chef Hua - Chapter 388: Episode 216 Delight_2

A premeditated car accident almost cost Lu Jinghan his life, but fortunately, Doctor Han saved him.Later, the old master of the Lu Family said with delight, “The life-saving grace of Doctor Han cannot be thanked with words; it's better to let my grandson offer himself in gratitude.”“Old man, that's enough.” A deep voice came from behind, belonging to Lu Jinghan.Han Xi also felt as if she had been struck by lightning. She's a doctor; healing and saving people is her duty and doesn't deserve such... generous reward....Later, Doctor Han became the person Mr. Lu cherished in his heart.Mr. Lu had a smile on his lips, a smile as sweet as nectar: “Let's have a child, then we'll be a family of three.”“Two, I want both a boy and a girl.”“No, just one.”“Why?”Mr. Lu gazed lovingly at his Mrs. Lu: “It's too painful to have a child, one is enough.”What to do, it seems Doctor Han wants to pounce on her Mr. Lu right now.

Back in 1998, an ordinary person who has been through, tired, cried, and fought, hopes to run down-to-earth and keep up with the trend of the times.

- Description from novelbuddy

All Amy needed to do was get away from her pursuers. The last thing she thought she'd encounter was being kidnapped, drugged and offered to some smelly fat old man.

But no, he wasn't any of that. Zach was simply a god. And he was drugged, just like her. It could be the drugs or she just genuinely found him irresistible. And to her luck, he didn't resist her when she made a move on him. When she found out how much of a beast he was in bed, she wasn't complaining.

But she knew they were not supposed to cross paths. So when she finally left the next morning, little did she know that fate had a 'little surprise' in store.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.