MTL - Quick Transmigration: Rescuing Supporting Male Leads Plan - Chapter 219 Extra

Ye Beibei was unprepared for a while, and she married Young Master Gu who was sitting in a wheelchair.

I thought that from then on, I would have lived a career as a wealthy man, rich and free, but I never knew I was enslaved every day to become a nanny.

Ye Beibei beat the table: Liar, I want a divorce!

Young Master Gu pushed a cute baby to his front: You still want to get a divorce even when we already have a child? Wife, you wake up!

“…” Ye Beibei looked at a cute baby, who was exactly like her, with a confused expression.

Who can tell her when she gave birth! ?

- Description from MTL

In her previous life, the woman that her husband cheated on dug out her beautiful eyes, told her that her child was not her husband’s and then tortured her to death. Her six year old son, Tiantian, was harmed by the adulterer while her parents were brutally murdered…

Why did going to the supermarket to buy vegetables end up transporting her to the 1970s, where she became the aunt her mother despised the most? She initially thought living in the 1970s would mean experiencing dire poverty, struggling from meal to meal. Fortunately, her grandfather was a devoted revolutionary, her grandmother adored her granddaughters, her father was indulgently affectionate towards his daughters, and her mother was harsh in words but soft in heart. Her uncles and aunt were exceedingly kind to her, and she even had a wealthy mother abroad and a father from a family with deep cultural roots. Wasn't this the prelude to living like a princess? With the advantages of the right time, place, and people, why did her life as the aunt still turn out so miserably in her previous life?A newcomer to rural 1972, Tian Sisi thought destiny wanted her to strive and be inspired, but in reality, it directed her towards a path of happiness and well-being. This story features a touch of levity, inspiration, struggle, and freshness. The female protagonist is no pushover.The new novel 'Spoilt Wife in the Sixties' has started, featuring a sweet romance tale, one-on-one.

“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.