MTL - To My Dear Mr. Huo - Chapter 17 : The whole person is bad

Cheng Xi, a guileless psychiatrist with a heart of gold, who would do anything for her patients. Lu Chenzhou, a frigid businessman who refuses treatment for his emotional detachment.

Q: How would you approach your target?

Tiger Tribe:
Jiang Yu (excited): “Cure him, give him medicine!”

Future Mecha:
Duan Jingzhe (at a loss): “… umm … feed him expired nutrients?”

Ancient Court:
Donghao Yang (banter): “Follow nature’s example and flirt shamelessly.”

Next unlucky protagonist: “…”

This is a collection of three short stories in which each protagonist crosses to another world or is reborn.

- Description from Novelupdates

A shut-in accidentally transmigrated while playing a dark R18 banned-cultivation gal game, and he brought this game panel called 《Evil God Cultivation》 with him…

The cultivation of an Evil God requires him to go to the various planes’ dungeons to complete dark missions and finish daily evil events.

“Evil Event triggered: Adopt the orphan Lin Yunyun.”

“Lin Yunyun? Orphan? Old Wang, find someone to hit Lin Yunyun’s old geezer of a father with a car! Quickly, I’m in a hurry!”

This is a story of an ambitious shut-in who, under the “persecution” of the portable game system, happily embarked on the path to become an Evil (human) God (scum).

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”