MTL - I Was Fed the Fruit by the World Nobles and Became the Fifth Emperor - Chapter 32

# gourmet # entrepreneurship # eight years old # younger sister # business

Xu Le transmigrated to a parallel universe into the body of an adorable eight-year-old. Here, there are no delicacies.

His parents went abroad, leaving him behind to earn his own keep.

His parents said, “Son, it is time you become a man and become financially independent. Make your own money and bring up your younger sister.”

Xu Le, “I understand, but at least pay off the mortgage before you leave!”

Forced by his circumstances, elementary school student Xu Le shouldered a burden that was beyond his age.

He begins his life of paying off the mortgage, bringing along his younger sister, Xu Tian, along for the ride.

Just then, the “Culinary God” system was awakened.

He could get all sorts of prizes if he cooked delicious food for people to try.

As such, a food stall started to appear on a busy street. In it was a tiny figure as a cook and a long line of customers.

After she noticed she was being chased after by a certain beauty, she bound herself to a System and started her quick transmigration journey…

After a countless number of worlds, the beauty was finally driven to villainy, and his long, elegant fingers pulled at his black tie…

In a world fraught with innumerable dangers where living day by day is a struggle, a young man from the modern age transmigrated into such a world, accompanied by a peculiar system made for assassination.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”