The System Mistook Me for a Cat - Chapter 30: The Gift

This is a story that follows the courtship between a stone from Hell and a god from Heaven that begins in the underworld and spans for three lifetimes in the mortal realm.

Song Xuanhe transmigrated into a book called “The President’s Seven Boyfriends”. He became the President’s cannon fodder ex-boyfriend, Song Xuanhe.

The Song Xuanhe in the book: 180 cm tall, so attractive he would trump over even the hottest celebrities, three generations of family in business–a very appropriate rich third generation.

It wasn’t a loss to transmigrate into this kind of person. It was just that this was a rebirth story.

The Song Xuanhe in the book abused the male lead 800 times and had even indirectly caused the male lead’s death. Faced with the reborn blackened male lead, his fate was obvious–not only did he reach rock bottom, he even died without an intact corpse.

Right now, he had become the cannon fodder ex-boyfriend that was foreordained to die without an intact corpse.

——

System: Don’t you think that the male lead has been a bit strange recently? It’s like he’s plotting something in the dark.

Song Xuanhe: Plotting how to kill me?

System: No, plotting how to eat you.

——

Song Xuanhe, who was lying on the bed with an aching waist, pained back and legs suffering from cramps, cursed the System 800 times–what happened to the male lead being a shou?!

Emphasis: Xiao Yuanmu is the gong! Xiao Yuanmu is the gong! Xiao Yuanmu is the gong! Moreover, the big shot has always been a gong! Spoilers only up to here!

This is a world with only oceans, through which scattered are countless small islands and treasures.With swords, gunpowder, sailing ships, and most important, the Treasure Hunting System, Alka is ready to dominate the oceans!「Map detected」「Scanning for Treasure」「Scan complete」「Happy Treasure hunting!」

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates