I Transmigrated As A Prison Guard And Suppressed The Princess - Chapter 6 - Need Another One Hundred Years

The Mad Cultivator follows the tale of Ye Kong, a rude and vulgar thug from modern day China. While collecting protection fees, he was sent to another world! By the time he realized what was going on, he was possessing the body of an idiot. Watch as Ye Kong struggles against fate to climb the road to immortality!

- Description from Novelupdates

In her past life, Chen Wei’er was too blind to recognize people for who they were. She caused the destruction of her own family for the sake of a scum, and hurt the people who truly loved her. Fate gave her another chance to start over. In this life, she became decisive and worked hard in her career. She became a proud dance queen who managed to destroy the third-wheel who schemed against her, take revenge on the scum, and avenge all past grievances. She became a sweet wife who was coquettish and flattering, boldly seducing her aloof husband, He Xun.

His difficult wife suddenly became sweet and gentle. He Xun finally couldn’t resist holding her tight and whispered into her ear, “What do you want? I’ll give you everything. My life is yours too, so stop teasing me…”

One night, Chen Wei’er had a dream. She dreams of her past life, and the world after her death. He Xun was sitting in the hospital’s corridor, hugging her bloodied corpse as he went insane. “Had I known that in exchange of letting you go, you would die instead of being happy, I would never have let you go…” Then, He Xun killed all of her enemies and built a small wooden house in front of her grave. He never took another wife but became her grave-keeper. To think he loved her so much. Then, she learned that fate only gave her another chance to start over because this man, who had loved her for two lifetimes, had begged in front of her grave day and night for another chance in exchange for a lifetime of loneliness…

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.