Quick Transmigration: Collecting Darkened Male Leads
Mo Nian Nian carried the heavy burden of lowering the male leads’ hostility and saving three thousand small worlds. She thought it would be a simple, peaceful life of raising little goslings, but who could have foretold that her charges would grow more and more unruly? Dear heavens, all she wanted was to quietly complete her tasks. Jiang Hu had lingered in hell for too long, silently awaiting the moment he would rot and return to dust. Yet someone broke through the bleakness, bringing with them a gentle breeze and warm sunlight, guiding him back to the world of the living. I could have endured the darkness, if only I had never seen the light. The beautiful, soft-spoken youth pleaded, “Sister, you’re all I have left. Please don’t leave me.” The irritable and sensitive marshal said, “Nian Nian, you smell so sweet. Let me have a taste.” The humble and timid slave vowed, “I will protect you with my life, even if I am only your servant.” The fallen, helpless former e-sports legend confessed, “You are my glory.” The sickly yet fierce young master whispered, “My wife, I’m in pain. Will you look only at me?” And the mad, brooding ghost murmured, “Nian Nian, hell is so cold. Will you stay with me?”
Quick Transmigration: Collecting Darkened Male Leads
What met her gaze was a pair of eyes, unfathomably dark, hollow, numb—if one looked closely, they might catch a fleeting trace of disgust and revulsion, negative emotions flitting by in an instant.
Mo Nianian held a stick in her hand, as thick as a child’s arm, and it was mere inches from falling upon the half-grown boy before her.
The boy was so emaciated that calling him skin and bones would be generous. He knelt straight on the floor, his face expressionless, and the skin exposed on his body was crisscrossed with scars.
Some were fresh, some old—burns, welts from beatings, knife wounds—all ghastly to behold.
Mo Nianian paused for a moment, calling out to the system in her mind.
“This is your male lead?”
The system’s little wings quivered with excitement, shining faintly.
“Yes, yes! That’s the male lead, truly pitiful.”
Mo Nianian clicked her tongue, her expression one of distaste, and slowly withdrew the stick.
What a poor thing—she couldn’t imagine how the original host had been so cruel.
She spoke lightly, “Get up.”
The pitiful child before her didn’t move a muscle, kneeling upright as if he hadn’t heard her at all.
Mo Nianian had wandered in darkness for a long time before arriving in the body of this girl who shared her name. Now, all she wanted was a meal and a good night’s sleep.
She stood, found a piece of leftover bread in the half-sized refrigerator, and chewed as she asked the system, “What’s with this kid?”
After a moment’s silence, the system asked, “Host, didn’t you read t
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