Stone Age Husband Raising Journal - Chapter 15: Elephant Bird

“Fresh meat” Jiang Chi – to get closer to his unrequited love, an actor extraordinaire – did everything to join Ye Lan’s filming project, even if it meant he would not get paid.

Note:
影帝, literally means “movie king”. Used for famous and accomplished actors. The actress equivalent is 影后, meaning “movie queen”.

小鲜肉, literally means “young, fresh meat”. Used for young, rising actors with good looks (who often star in more commercial-oriented films.) The actress equivalent is 小花, meaning “fresh flower”

- Description from Novelupdates

Arthur Ventrike, a genius second-year at the prestigious Wolkan Royal Academy, hailed to be the most talented in his generation, reaches the Swordsman stage of Knight at just 15 under Grandmaster Thorne Bladesong. But envy strikes when a fifth-year student tries to poison him. Though the plot fails, Arthur is left crippled, his dreams shattered. Just when all hope seems lost, he inherits a Great Sage’s legacy and sets out to become the greatest wizard along with the blessing of an indecent goddess and save the world from an ancient evil.

The Invincible Immortal Emperor reincarnates, taking over the body of a student at the Huaxia Medical College. He displays extraordinary skills both in combat and medicine.In his previous life, he was the undefeated War Emperor and the supreme master of medicine. Yet, he found himself ensnared in the mundane affairs of the world, confronted by endless temptations.Would he lose himself to these temptations or remain steadfast in his principles? Would he succumb to despair and decadence, sinking into oblivion, or would he rise with strength and resilience, reversing the course of destiny?As he sets forth on his path to reclaim his status as the Immortal Emperor, he vows to make the ghosts and gods of the myriad realms tremble in fear!

“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.