The Divorced Wife of the Richest Man is Reborn - Chapter 55: The Deceiver of Love

Ye Anlan traveled through time, from the apocalypse to ancient times, from nearly forty years old to just ten years old, Ye Anlan felt that she had made a fortune.

But the problem is that she doesn’t know how to play piano, chess, calligraphy and painting, poetry and poetry, spinning and weaving, cutting and embroidery….

Women’s virtues, women’s words, women’s looks, women’s skills… what is that?

Obedience to the father before marriage, obedience to the husband when married, obedience to the son after the death of a husband…Ah, if I say that the fist is hardened by myself, do you believe it or not?

***

Before meeting the heroine Ye Anlan, who is good everywhere in his opinion, Li Jing won countless hearts because of the saying of the great Confucianism in the world: “A modest gentleman is as gentle as jade, clear inside and outside, and his heart is like glass”.

After meeting Ye Anlan, a country girl who was worthless in the eyes of others, Li Jing was killed in an instant. When people mentioned him, they would always say the same thing, “I’m afraid that guy has something wrong with his eyes!”

- Description from novelbuddy

The outside world is filled with monstrous shadows. I’m so scared.I just want to stay in my safe house, forever…————————Unkillable phantoms and endless monsters abound. Yu Hong arrives here with a mysterious black mark. Using its power to strengthen everything, he gradually builds an absolutely secure zone of his own within his safe house.

“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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