The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service - Chapter 23: The Contract

Dreaming back in the middle of the night, Wen Mingtang saw the ending of the beauty who pampered the golden house;

After waking up from the dream, Wen Mingtang changed his core and decided to take a down-to-earth path…

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At the end of last year, the evaluation forms for personnel changes in various ministries in the capital came out, and the public chef of Dali Temple topped the list with a record of changing 12 cooks in half a year.

Since then, the public chef of Dali Temple has become famous in the first battle, and has become a nightmare for cooks all over the capital.

…

On this day, a new chef came to the public kitchen of Dali Temple who had been vacant for more than half a month…

- Description from novelbuddy

When Lu Ming’s biological father and stepmother came looking for him, he didn’t feel happy or excited.

A long time ago, Lu Ming’s father, Lu Yaohua, abandoned his wife and son and married his lover.

For 18 years, Lu Ming had not seen his father, even when his mother passed away.

Now, Lu Ming’s father came looking for him because his half-brother was sick and needed a kidney transplant. The first thing his father and stepmother said to him was that they wanted a kidney from him.

“We are a family. You’re his older brother. It’s your responsibility to save your little brother. If you can help Ze, we’ll give you 10 million yuan,” offered Lu Yaohua.

“A human can survive with one kidney, right? How can you not save your brother when he’s dying? You’re just like your useless mom!” scolded the stepmother.

“Heck! I would never have agreed to dad spending the 10 million if the donor center has a suitable kidney for me!” cursed the younger brother.

[Option 1: Agree to the request. Reward: A halo for enduring humiliation.

Option 2: Decline the request. Reward: 51% of the shares of Wanke Real Estate—one the top 500 listed companies in the country.]

Lu Ming stared coldly at the three visitors and scoffed.

“I don’t have a brother like you, or a family. Get lost!”

[MATURE CONTENT WARNING: 18+ ONLY. Contains explicit smut, omegaverse, knotting, and mpreg.]“Fuck, still so tight.”That's the first thing I hear after dying.Not a heavenly choir, not a wise guide explaining the mechanics of reincarnation, just a voice like dark honey and broken glass, breath scorching hot against my neck, and a body that absolutely isn't mine rolling its hips back like it has no objections whatsoever to what's happening to it.I have objections, so many objections.My body has apparently decided to hold a separate meeting without me.I was twenty-eight, overworked to the point of literal death, and had never so much as kissed anyone seriously. None of that seems to matter to the omega body I've just woken up in.. currently making desperate, broken sounds into expensive silk sheets, trembling around a knot that shouldn't feel this good, this full, this.. right, while my actual mind is still standing in the corner going what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK???By the time I finally see his face, it's far too late for dignity. Gray eyes cold as a winter storm, features sharp enough to cut, the kind of beautiful that doesn't ask permission before it ruins you.It gets so much worse when I learn his name.Wuchen Bael, my sister's fiance, the man who looked me dead in the eye afterward and said, without blinking..“Round two?”And I haven't even gotten to the part where I find out I'm pregnant.

“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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