Zombie Apocalypse: Reborn With A Farming Space - Chapter 190: Exchanging Supplies ( 2 )

Ai Xiao has three identities.
First, Jinjiang Lily Channel is very cold and aggressive;
The second is the brain-disabled fan girl of the ancient goddess Yan Tang;
The third is the S university bully, who is 1.5 meters tall and looks cute wherever he goes.
Later, the goddess Yan added another identity to her.
——Fourth, it is Yan Tang’s cute little girlfriend.
Ai Xiao: You, you let me go!
Goddess Yan lifted her up and kissed: No.

Consume this manual:
1. The author, Jun Mengmeng, can use the collection and comment package/raise (///▽///) to refuse to pick up the list.
2. This article is silly and sweet. Apart from sweetness, it is a pet. It is necessary to adjust the mood. The effect is better when eaten with cookies.
3. There will be guest appearances by Wen Xiaobaihua and his wife next door, but it will not affect the viewing of new readers. (For details, please refer to “[Rebirth] The same table is simply shameless”)

Content tags: A soft spot for sweet text
Search keywords: Protagonist: Ai Xiao, Yan Tang ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others: Campus, Tianwen

- Description from novelbuddy

“Abused and disowned by her family after she was found heavily pregnant, Ji Weixi was forced to leave her hometown with nothing to her name. She returns four years later, only to be caught in a job with Li Shaoling, her stepsister’s fiancé-to-be as her boss.

***

Ji Weixi was holding up a certain body part of the child and aiming it at the toilet.

The tot’s brow eased amidst the gushing. “”Comfy…””

Li Shaoling’s gaze was overwhelmingly icy. “”You are not allowed to touch him there!””

Ji Weixi stared at him as if she was staring at an idiot. “”By what right?””

Li Shaoling glared at her. “”You are only allowed to look at mine.””

Never!!!”

- Description from Novelupdates

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.