Married Thrice to Salted Fish - Chapter 99

“Husband, your wife has lost, worth tens of billions, do you still want it?”

“Don’t want… didn’t you say that you will support me? So I transferred all the assets to your name.”

Before she was born again, she ‘a blind toss away’, and was killed by her praising agent; after rebirth, she deeply realized that the biggest advantage of being blind was: being able to tease the arrogant husband at any time and any place, plus a sign for Mengbao Express.

Monk baby havoc! ! !

In the past life, she loved others, was tempted, and wanted to have a divorce agreement with him.

This world… “Sorry, the national husband is mine, the money is mine, the monk baby is mine, you want us to divorce? Go ask my mother-in-law for the answer.”

- Description from Novelupdates

A necromancer and a saint blessed by the Constellations. That’s me.

Xu He had been his sister’s control group since he was a child. His elder sister was fair, juicy and good at giving birth. She was the heart of the Xu family, a flower in the village, and the talented people who wanted to marry her lined up from the village to the back of the mountain.

The little brother was only good at cooking, and he was busy from the stove to the field all day long, and no one paid attention to his disheveled face. People in the village talked after dinner, how the same parents had two very different children. With his sister as a comparison, it must be more difficult for He ge’er to marry. 

However, there were many young men looking for Xu He, but these people who got close to him were all to find out about his sister. Xu He had been used to it for many years, but recently, even Zhang Fangyuan, who was not doing business in the village, wanted to get something from him.

After inquiring, he tried to hide, but he was stuck on the way home, but the man said: “He ge’er, your cooking is delicious, and it will be even better if you are my fulang.”

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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