Are You Crazy? You're Telling Me This Is a Fugitive TV Show? - Chapter 182: He maneuvered his body through the air–just like a gibbon!

(The main story has ended!! A 1v1, sweet and clean romance novel) Shen Chuwei suddenly travels back to ancient times to become a neglected concubine of the Crown Prince. She thought it was the beginning of a leisurely life of eating and drinking, but unexpectedly, she ends up being deeply pampered by the aloof Crown Prince.Lady Xu: “Shen Fengyi, you'd better know your place. Tonight is my turn to serve His Highness.”Shen Chuwei says: “The Crown Prince is yours, I promise I'm just here to freeload.”That night, Shen Chuwei was kept in the Crown Prince's room~Lady Chang: “The Crown Princess is mine. You can't even dream of sharing her.”Shen Chuwei replies: “I'm not interested.”Later on, not only does Shen Chuwei become the Crown Princess, but she also gives birth to a pair of twins. The Emperor and Empress are in a scramble to pamper them, guaranteeing a smooth ride to victory.All the women in the East Palace vie to become the Crown Princess through their cunning and devious methods, yet all of these are clearly seen by Xiao Jinyan, who has the ability to read minds, causing him to avoid them.That is, until he sees a small 'salted fish', sweet-talking and soft-bodied, just to his liking, “You will serve me tonight.”As a freeloading 'salted fish', she trembles in fear: “Your Highness, I'm still too young.”

After transmigrating, Chen Yu found himself in a highly militarized world. But the “will of the world” had concluded that he was an intruder and put a curse on him.

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.