Eighteen's Bed - Chapter 18.7: My Graduation Day (7)

When disaster struck, Ling Mo knew that the kinds of zombies depicted in doomsday movies would in fact, be totally different from reality…

Normally, the most important thing to do during the end of the world is to survive, but when Ling Mo picked up his girlfriend from an abandoned bus, the trajectory of his life had gone completely out of control.

The cause of this was very simple. His girlfriend, mutated…

Wait, Shana, that sickle in your hand looks like its being pointed at my pants!

Senior sister! Stop trying to pounce on me the moment I’m distracted!

And little girl, is it really alright for you to just hide by my side and laugh?

Lastly…all of you, stop trying to bite me…ahhh!!!

- Description from novelupdates

Vahn was an atypical youth. Due to a rare mutation, his blood had the potential to target and attack ailments within the human body. Touted as a universal cure, people had elevated his status above the norm and given him the classification "Panacea". In the media, he was hailed as a great hero who would usher in a new era or human wellness. However, behind the scenes things weren't so bright. Being a unique individual, Vahn spent his entire youth locked up in a lab with various scientists and research teams using his body and blood to perform endless amounts of experiments. The only solace in his suffering was the various anime and manga made available to him between experiments. He often imagined himself as the protagonist in a world of his own, finally in control of his own destiny. For years he nurtured this desire, until at the age of 14 he died when an organization had tried to kidnap him from the lab...

The Cheng family finally found the real daughter who had been wandering the streets. Cheng Ling, the fake daughter who had been wrongly adopted for eighteen years, instantly became the family’s joke.

The real heiress was very domineering and the fake heiress was soon despised by the family.

Many people were waiting to see the fake daughter make a fool of herself, but they realized…

The world’s top medical expert: “May I know where Miss Cheng Ling, who was kicked out of the house, is? I begged her for a long time and she finally agreed to give me a chance to meet her.”

International idol Best Actor Tang: “Miss Cheng Ling, can you sell me another grape? Just one will do. After eating your grape, my voice is getting much more beautiful.”

The famous godfather of the Mafia said, “Miss Cheng Ling, can you sell me one of your cucumbers? I was seriously injured in my early years and it’s hard for me to recover. Only your cucumbers can save me.”

Soon, everyone realized that almost all the rich and powerful families in the world had a favor to ask of the fake daughter, Cheng Ling. As long as she said a word, those rich and powerful people would be willing to do anything for her.

That was because Cheng Ling had a piece of divine soil in her hands. The fruits of vegetables grown from divine soil had all kinds of magical and powerful effects.

Third Master Qin, who was feared by all the aristocrats in the world and was rumored to be extremely cold and ruthless, pretended to be pitiful in front of Cheng Ling. “Ling Ling, my chest hurts. Come, come, come. Stay here tonight. When I take off my clothes, you can take a good look at me…”

Cheng Ling: “Stay away from me, don’t get in the way of my farming.”

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.