Why Are You Crying? Because I Married Your Mom After You Broke up with Me? - Chapter 462 - : Zhuyang Real Estate

Heavenly Pearl, an unknown mysterious, and heaven-defying object, for some reason, enter the heart of a young man named Ye Xiao who was framed and crippled by his fellow sect members for some unknown reasons and got kicked out from his sect.

Kazuki’s life was painfully average—just another cog in the nine-to-five grind. His only escape? Binge-reading novels and no-lifing video games.Then he woke up inside one of those novels.Armed with unstable morals, unhinged humor, and a penchant for pettiness, Kazuki is determined to survive, thrive, and maybe cause a little chaos along the way.The world has no idea what’s coming.

Petite Princess VS Rough KhanOn their wedding day, Yelu Yan told Li Xianyun that apart from affection, he could provide her with endless wealth and honor.After the marriage, he indeed kept his promise, cherishing her in the palm of his hand.Little did he know, the more he cherished her, the deeper she burrowed into his heart, right to the very top.Not long after the political marriage with the Khitans, Li Xianyun gradually noticed earth-shattering changes around her:Initially, the commoners who disliked her began to worship her as a deity...The court officials accusing her of bewitching their lord were now pleading with her to consummate the marriage with the Khan...The most perplexing of all was her husband in name; wasn’t he the one who said he wouldn't give her emotional affection? Why was he always following her around?Little theater scene 1:One day, Yelu Yan cornered Li Xianyun against the wall.“Why are you avoiding this Khan?”“They say you might have taken a liking to your servant.”“Remove ‘might’, isn’t it obvious enough from how this Khan acts?”“But you said you wouldn’t give your servant emotional affection.”Yelu Yan held his forehead; he had indeed said too many foolish things.“The Han people always say that one should start a family and then establish a career; clearly, the two are not in conflict.”Little theater scene 2:The sun had risen high, yet Yelu Yan was still clinging to Li Xianyun.“Get up quickly, I have to leave. There are patients on the street waiting for my consultation, the good fields to the west need irrigation, the homestead plots in the east need measuring, and I have to oversee the silk reeling and dyeing... Uh...”“Your husband is a patient, don’t you care for him?”Li Xianyun looked at the man tough enough to rival ten bulls and was utterly speechless.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.