MTL - Hao is Also a Kind of Life - ~ One hundred and seventy-nine: The idea of ​​calling a mobile phone

At the moment when life ceased to exist, Ye Zhongming returned to ten years ago, to that afternoon when the apocalypse began.

Was it heaven’s favor or another punishment? Did he really have to re-live the cruel and frigid end of the world? Ye Zhongming decided to survive, not for anything else, but for those comrades who had fought and died together, for his unwavering lover! And he wanted to find answers.

Why did countless roulette wheels emerge from nothingness, and why did tens of thousands of warriors descend from the sky? Who turned this beautiful azure planet into bloody ruins that were covered in corpses?

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At eighteen years old, Lin Qingyu was married as part of a Chong Xi into the Nan’an Hou Mansion, becoming the ill Lu Wancheng’s male wife.

On the eve of their wedding, Young Master Hou lay lazily on the bed and said, “Beauty, to be honest, I really don’t want to engage in domestic struggles. I just want to drift along, eat and wait to die. I want to be a salted fish.”

A year later, Young Master Hou became gravely ill. He took Lin Qingyu’s hand and sighed, “Wife, I’m going to die, but I think I can continue to transmigrate. In order for you to properly recognize me in the future, let us set a secret code.”

After the death of Young Master Hou, Lin Qingyu was prepared to stay a widow all his life. Unexpectedly, after only half a year, the great general who had rendered outstanding military service, actually came to propose marriage.

Lin Qingyu would rather die. But the general said but one statement, “If odd, change; if even, remain the same?”

Lin Qingyu: “…I will marry you.”

After two years, the general died in battle. Before Lin Qingyu even had time to grieve, he was recruited into the palace by the Emperor.

The emperor complained aggrievedly, “Baobei, this time I have became the Emperor. My salted fish dreams have been completely shattered…”

Lin Qingyu knew that although his husband was a bag of lazybones, no one was his equal when it came to conspiracy and schemes.

He rubbed the Emperor’s head. “Don’t think about it. Get started on those reports. Behave yourself.”

On the way to a company workshop, we fell into a world of immortal cultivators while still in the car.

Those with spiritual roots and unique abilities were all called to join cultivation sects, living prosperously.

But I, having neither spiritual roots nor special abilities, lived as an ordinary mortal for 50 years, complying with fate until my death.

That’s what I thought.

Until I regressed.