MTL - After Crossing, I Marked the Empress - Chapter 191 vacation

Ji Qingqing was at the end of her rope. When she was on the brink of wretched poverty, she received a system. The system told her; Lu Lixing came from a family that was rolling in money, but he was coming to the end of his allotted lifespan. If she married him, she would gain his enormous inheritance.

Lu Lixing was seriously ill. Just as he was about to die, he gained a system. The system told him: Ji Qingqing was young and beautiful. She was rich in vitality. If he married her, he could continue living.

Ji Qingqing happily came to Lu Lixing’s sickbed.

And then, Lu Lixing woke up.

***

Lu Lixing’s friends discovered that after Lu Lixing woke up, not only did this person that had always kept his distance from women gotten married, he spent every day being super clingy towards his wife.

Young Lu, can you be a little less embarrassing and act your age? Will you die if you take one step away from your wife?

Lu Lixing clutched his chest. His little heart had almost stopped beating because Ji Qingqing had left him for half an hour. He weakly waved his hand. He couldn’t be separated from her, not for the rest of his life. She was his life.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”

Seven years ago, she freely and easily abandoned ￥100 and ran away, carrying her unborn son with her. Seven years later, she returned with the lady killer’s genius son, never expecting that her darling son would sell her out to MBS International. Unexpectedly, her immediate superior was the Mr. ￥100 from seven years ago!