The Crippled CEO Fell For Me - Chapter 851: You’re Going Too Far

(1v1, pure and sweet) Xiliang’s Prince Residence.With a tiger-like energy and at just 5 years old, Little Prince Xiao Moxi saw his mother dash off to the fields again, and his steamed bun-like face scrunched up in frustration.Looking grievously at his father beside him, he complained with an air of worldly wisdom, “Father, how did you fall for my mother, who likes to run off all the time?”Xiao Yeyang gave his precociously mature son a sidelong glance, then pretended to ponder the question.Indeed, why had he fallen for that woman?After a long silence…“Who knows? Maybe I got my head caught in a door!”Sharing a look of mutual commiseration, father and son let out a helpless sigh in unison.What do you do when you’re stuck with a woman who’s never at home?There’s only one thing to do with your own Princess Consort (mother)—spoil her, of course!…Transported to ancient times with a space filled with rice flowers, all she wanted was to quietly live out her life in the fields. Unexpectedly, with a father who was a county magistrate, she was forced to leave the countryside for the city!Life in the city was bustling with activities, and in order to have a say at home, she bought estates, grew flowers and medicinal herbs, and developed high-yield, high-quality grain varieties. Remarkably, she helped her father, who had been a county magistrate for nine years, to rise step by step, bringing the lowborn Yan Family into Beijing’s elite circles!This is a story of a noble daughter from a humble family aiding her clan to thrive and prosper, and a sweet love story of mutual success and growing together!Male lead: In front of others, he is the prideful Little Prince, the domineering Prince of Xiliang. In front of the female lead, he is a soft and tender-hearted man.Female lead: Clearheaded in all matters, warm-hearted and self-reliant!

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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