The Hunter's Gonna Lay Low - Chapter 9

After coming out of a tunnel… it was pitch dark.

I think my husband wants to kill me.

Whether it’s forgetting to turn off the gas or finding the bathroom door locked after I just finished bathing, it all makes me feel that he wants to kill me.

I know that I shouldn’t be considering this because we are a gay couple and we have been together for seven years.

Our relationship is also stable, and he is very good to me.

But I really think he wants to kill me.

- Description from Novelupdates

Zhang Qiu is an archaeology undergraduate. One month ago, he went to Qinling Mountains with a group of archaeologist doctorate students led by Prof. Fang, to study the newly discovered ancient tomb. While the people were excited to open the tomb, Zhang Qiu was pushed back, and accidentally fell into an opening. Before he fainted, he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him. When woke up, he discovered that he was deflowered! QAQ he remembered the deeds and often dreamed of it.

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.