After Divorce: Why My Aloof Ex Starts Chasing Me? - Chapter 141 Sincerity

Susu, a hard-working woman, accidentally finds herself in a novel set in the 1980s, stepping into the shoes of an unlikeable female lead who was resented by everyone in the family compound for causing endless trouble. She became Su Er Ya, the demon sister who threatens her husband to divorce if he dares to adopt the orphan of a comrade-in-arms. With such an unfavorable start, watch how she turns the tide. From selling braised goods to opening a restaurant, her career thrives, and in turn she becomes beloved and known for her magnanimous personality. Lu Xiaoting, a stern public security officer, realizes that the once lazy and gluttonous woman who took advantage of others has changed.Lu Xiaoting, embracing his wife: “Wife, don't be mad, I was wrong!”Susu, looking at the man with broad shoulders and a commanding presence reminiscent of a modern-day celebrity, smiles sweetly. She triumphs by mastering the culinary arts.Witnessing the transformation, their son Xiaoyu leads the three little 'turnip heads', Su's adorable children, who pout and complain about their father taking their mother away yet again.Whining, “Hate it, Daddy took Mommy away again!”“Ugh, Daddy really...!”“Big brother, we want Mommy.”The young boy comforts the three younger siblings gently: “Be good, Dad and Mom will be back soon.”

Xia Yu made a wish to eat until he vomited. And this particular wish brought him to a completely strange world which was full of cuisines.What, Chef God System?“You need to not only satisfy normal people's appetite but also all kinds of devils and ghosts. Use your food to move them!” the old man said to him coolly.So, Xia Yu would never stop running on the road of becoming a Chef God.

#Wrestling #Sports #Business #Showbiz #Booking“When the lights turn off, the ring becomes empty, and the fans walk away, I want to see their anger, hate, tears, joy, frustration, and vindication. In short, I want them to remember those 90 minutes they paid for.”Rob Williams has one goal in his life. To bring pro wrestling to the heights he had experienced in his previous life. Unfortunately, it is not that easy to do.In a world where pro wrestling is considered to be a niche sport, that barely receives any recognition, Rob Williams has his job cut out for him. But, his passion and bold ideas alone won't help him much when he has to battle on all fronts.Some called him a madman. Some see him as a delusional fool dreaming of something impossible. But, there were others who called him a genius, even a visionary. But, Rob was just a man who worked towards a single dream.A stadium full of fans, cheering and booing as he envisioned!!!

“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.