Requiem of Subdued Souls - Chapter 59: Peach Blossom Girl (15)

【Hilarious and Adorable Novel】As a military doctor with expertise in both Chinese and Western medicine, Gu Changsheng felt that this time-traveling journey was ridiculously screwy!Once he traveled back, he was gifted a son, hmm, it felt quite nice.Having a son to rely on in old age, plus owning a steady estate, wealth and glory weren't hard to come by.A lousy father turns over a new leaf? Sorry, mom here isn't fond of revisiting the past!Son, what kind of dad do you want? From the multitude of handsome and wealthy young men out there, let’s pick and choose…This is the story of a bizarrely outstanding female doctor, strutting through ancient times with her child in tow!

If Ke Xun could do it again, he would have never left his house to go out and flirt with guys, even if it would mean getting beaten to death.

Weren’t they supposed to have just been taking shelter from the rain in a museum and looking at some erot*c paintings while they were at it? Why…did they enter the world inside a painting?!

Mu Yiran: Every single one of us is acting out a role in the painting.

Ke Xun’s eyes lit up: How do we get into an erot*c painting?

Mu Yiran gave him a long, drawn-out look: Shut your eyes and lie down.

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True Gods. Endless Divinities. Primordials. The Ancients. The Chaos. The Greater Chaos. The Infinite Realms.

Heaven. Hell. The Abyss. Purgatory. The Overvoid. The Greater Worlds. The Origin World. The Prime Verse. The Past, Present, Future.

Here. There. Everywhere. Nowhere.

“Why is it that, I cannot find any place that I truly belong? And who, or what... exactly am I, as a Mystique?”

Join our Enigma as he tries to find a place where he could belong, and fit in. While unveiling all the secrets and mysteries related to him, and his family.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.