Memoirs of the Returnee - Chapter 156: Test (3)

A dangerous neon-lit city in a shattered post-war world.

The wilderness outside the city was wild and uncontrolled, the superhuman roamed beneath the cover of the night’s rain, xenomorphs prowled the streets.

Oligarchic company, extraordinary program, prosthetic limbs, spiritual network, street gangs.

Gu He only desire after transmigrating was to become a salted fish. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t.

- Description from Novelupdates

Crying blood and tears, she pledged a poisonous vow. The gods did not fail her. She was sent back to a decade ago. The legitimate daughter of Jiang family returned from hell.

“Gu Hangshen! Your sister stole my man, and you helped her do it! Your whole family is rotten!”“Whatever my sister owes you, I'll compensate you.”“And what will you compensate me with?”“Me.”“...”Later, he not only gave himself up as compensation, but he also came with a clingy little bundle of joy...

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.