The Ancient Genes - Chapter 0 - Introduction

On the wedding night, she was tied to his bed.

“Hot Noodles request to add you as a friend.”An inexplicable friend request, a non-existent contact.Claiming to be a message from herself in the future, intimately knowledgeable about her past.Fang Xiaocao was utterly numb.Hot Noodles: Danger, do not go home tonight.“Is this some kind of joke?”Staring at the WeChat message, Fang Xiaocao rolled her eyes and opened the anti-theft door.Hot Noodles: At midnight, when the knocking starts, don't turn on the light if you don't want to die.In the early morning: 00:00:00Fang Xiaocao was woken by the knocking sound. She was just about to turn on the bedside lamp when she remembered that bizarre message.She pulled back her hand and stayed put until dawn, only to know her neighbor next door, a woman living alone just like her was murdered at midnight...Fang Xiaocao was suddenly covered in a cold sweat.Hot Noodles: To celebrate our narrow escape from death, go to the flea market before three in the afternoon, stall number 7, and buy the seventh inkstone on the left-hand side. The seller's bottom price is 80, but the inkstone is worth 8 million.After last night's ordeal, Fang Xiaocao inexplicably chose to believe.She successfully bought an inkstone for a hundred dollars, and later discover it was indeed a imperial inkstone from the Qing Qianlong era, worthing 8 million!Fang Xiaocao stood there, dumbfounded!Following the message's instructions, she bought a second-hand car.But little did she know, the guidance was linking her into a series of events that dragged out a murder case and a fortune worth two small goals.Who on earth sent her the messages?It's really her future self?Or it's some kind of bizarre game?

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.