MTL - Perfect Superstar - Chapter 915 I love my life (continued)

This book is about baby-making.

I reincarnated into a fantasy world. Since I somehow got born again, I resolved myself to live diligently once more. But, putting that aside, my entire village burning up and disappearing when I’m 8-year old f*cking crossed the line. F*cking shit-f*cking crossed the line!

He was the youngest guru of martial arts as well as the perfect Mr. McDreamy of the most girls. He had mysterious absolute touch, clear-sighted observation ability and various outstanding talents.

But now, he was just an ordinary freshman in University of Jiangjing Chinese Medicine, who wanted to learn Chinese Medicine, see patients, and get into a relationship with a girl in a low-key way. However, in a Mid-Autumn Festival party, he was forced to put on a performance, which shocked the whole audience. The shiny and wonderful university life began from then on.

In the university, he met a beautiful and smart School Beauty Jiang Miaoyu who shook his heart slightly. But the road of love was never smooth, even to a perfect hero.

He also met a kind and friendly teacher Dr. Shen who discovered his excellent technique and gave him a chance to practice.
Besides, his three lovely and interesting roommates were indispensable in his life, although sometimes they looked a little awkward.
But this young hero’s life was not always full of happiness without a hitch, some trouble still appeared from time to time. The domineering and imperious President of the Students’ Union Li Qingshi purposely made difficulties for him repeatedly. The stubborn and hardworking martial arts practitioner Chen Cong often challenged him in different ways.

Just because of these extraordinary personalities around him, this young hero’s road of struggle looked so amazing…

- Description from novelupdates

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.