MTL - Florist Little Boss - Chapter 66

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

The country girl, Emily, was an orphan. She survived off the scraps that she could find from families around her. Every one of them despised her.

One day, a fairy-like little brother came to the city and brought her home.

At first, Emily wasn’t popular in other people’s homes, but she quickly awakened her god-tier learning talent. She could learn pretty much anything and everything in an instant.

Soon, Emily was regarded as a child prodigy. She was proficient in all sorts of arts, including zither, chess, and calligraphy, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

The elders and older brothers who didn’t really like her in the past were all captivated by her and spoilt her like a little fairy.

Every day, her grandparents, parents, uncles, aunties, and brothers fought to pamper her.

Grandpa said, “Baby, can you help Grandpa take a look at this painting?

Grandpa liked to collect oil paintings, but his deteriorating eyesight couldn’t discern good paintings from bad ones, and he kept getting tricked by sellers . So he had to consult the seven-year-old Emily because paintings that passed through Emily’s hands were never wrong.

Her father pleaded, “Baby, help me. The chairman of the Gu Site Corporation wants to get a calligraphy painting from you. This will determine whether my company can land a deal with them!”

Her brothers pleaded. “Baby, are you busy today? When are you going to visit your brother’s school? I promised the principal that I would bring you there. You can’t go back on your word.”