Contract marriage: His Sweet Wife and Cutest Twin Babies - Chapter 169

Baicao Poetry for College Students of Traditional Chinese Medicine in the New Century,

Accidentally transmigrated into the little widow of the same name in the book, and is also bound to a not-so-serious “Herb Garden System”.

When the little widow went to the mountain to dig grass, she rescued a beautiful young man who was dying, but was slandered by her elder sister-in-law to sink the pig cage into the pond.

As an expedient measure, the young man married Baicaoshi.

The Baicao Poetry, which is properly controlled by the face, can’t bear the beauty of the mouth to fly, and said boldly:

“You are in charge of being as beautiful as a flower, and I am in charge of planting grass to support the family!”

The system rewards psyllium seeds, commonly known as weeds,

Baicaoshi raised ducks and opened the first Quanjufang Roast Duck Restaurant in Dayan Country by the way;

The system rewards Zoysia seeds, commonly known as green grass,

Baicaoshi adapted measures to local conditions and opened the first VIP golf course in Dayan Country, and the chuiwan movement has become popular all over the country since then;

The system rewards Cordyceps sinensis seeds, with a gold prescription medical book,

Baicaoshi opened a pharmacy, launched pharmacy meals, and launched cosmeceuticals,

Established the Baicao Conservation Base, founded the Materia Medica Academy and trading center, and became famous as a miracle doctor.

Ying Zhexu, a gifted genius since he was a child, was framed by a traitor and became a sick and weak boy living outside.

“I originally came from the Asura Sea of ​​Hell, so what qualifications do I have to give you happiness?”

However, with her favor, the young man, who has seen the warmth and coldness of the world, is finally unwilling to let go.

All the herbs in the world are inferior to you, you are my only medicine stone.

Up to the poor and down to the underworld, destined to be with you.

Yan Shuiyi’s first ancient Chinese novel after transformation,

A brand new story about Materia Medica under Heaven.

PS: 1v1 Shuangjie, this article is superficial, please do not research it.

- Description from novelbuddy

After marriage, Vivian Sinclair was diagnosed with infertility.Through countless hardships, she finally conceived a child through IVF, only to accidentally learn: the child in her womb is indeed the flesh and blood of her husband Austin Grant and his My Moonlit Beloved!“Bro, this move of yours is truly ruthless.”“Letting sister-in-law carry the child for you and your first love, once the child is born, it will be yours and she is merely a tool.”Her husband Austin Grant smiled coldly, “Zoe is afraid of pain, how can she endure the hardships of pregnancy?”“Vivian Sinclair always wanted my child, didn't she?”“I'm just fulfilling her wish.”Vivian Sinclair was furious.However, at the hospital, she learns another truth: her husband has a low sperm count, the hospital made a mistake with the embryos, and she is actually carrying the child of a mysterious tycoon!No one loves Vivian Sinclair.Vivian Sinclair thinks: then I'll give birth to the child in my belly and let them love me.When she successfully gets a divorce and is about to walk away with ease, her ex-husband suddenly regrets deeply: “Honey, don't go!”The mysterious tycoon appears behind Vivian Sinclair, pulling her into his arms: “I heard you're carrying my child?”

“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.

This is a cliché story about two young people saving the world.