Okay so let me just start by saying this chapter is a masterclass in comedic escalation and I am HERE for it. The whole thing kicks off with Meng Tang waking up sick and Song Guantang skipping a morning meeting—which, for a workaholic CEO type, is basically a love confession at this point. Assistant Zhou is over there having an existential crisis watching his boss prioritize his wife over everything, and I was cackling. Then it spirals. Meng Tang wants a bath, Song Guantang says no, she storms into his study in a silk nightgown and accidentally crashes a video conference. The executives are sitting there hearing her say things like 'sticky all over' and 'husband' and you can literally feel their collective brain short-circuiting. And Song Guantang—cool as ice—just closes the laptop mid-kiss. The pacing here is absolutely perfect. Every beat builds on the last: the fever scene, the bath request, the hallway run, the accidental exposure. It's tight. No filler. And then the shrimp-peeling scene later? That's a whole different kind of tension release. The plot knows exactly when to be funny and when to be sweet, and it never drags. One question though—how long can this 'plastic marriage' premise sustain this level of chaos before the facade cracks for real? Because something tells me it won't stay this cute forever.
There's something so vivid about the opening scene at this roadside barbecue place. You can literally feel the summer heat—'the summer night was hot and stifling, making people restless, with not a single breeze.' And yet everyone is just laughing and eating skewers like it's the most natural thing in the world. The author does this great thing where they contrast the fancy shopping mall across the street with this humble BBQ spot, and somehow it makes the whole setting feel alive. You've got rich kids choosing to sit on plastic stools, the fans blowing back and forth, the noise of the city around them. Then Hong Yue walks out of the mall in her designer clothes and high heels and the whole atmosphere shifts. Her entrance is so jarring against this warm, grounded scene. It's like the author is setting up two different worlds colliding, and you can feel the tension before anything even happens. The classroom scenes later have that same energy—crowded windows with fangirls, the stuffy exam room, all of it feels real and lived-in.
I need to talk about Pei Jingzhou because this man is a walking contradiction and I am HERE for it. On paper he's the perfect nobleman—fourteen years old and already the youngest top scholar, disciplined, reserved, handles old foxes in the Ministry of Personnel without losing his footing. But the second Jiang Zhaoyue so much as looks at him, his entire carefully constructed persona crumbles. Watch how he handles the rattan ball scene: he watches her play from a distance, notices the details (her movements like a red silk ribbon), but says absolutely nothing about it. Then at dinner, he asks why Pei Heng listens to her so much, and when she gives him that absurd answer about being good-looking, he just tells her to focus on her meal. He's trying so hard to maintain decorum. But then—the bed scene. The way he keeps shifting toward the edge of the bed while she keeps inching closer? That's not indifference, that's someone actively fighting his own instincts. And when she wraps her arms around his forearm like a little snake and presses her face against his shoulder? His hand touches her chest and he explodes. Not because he's angry at her, but because he has no defense against someone who operates on an entirely different frequency. The relationship dynamic here is fascinating because she's the one who's calm and measured while he's the one losing control. She apologizes sincerely when she realizes she was too hasty, which shows emotional intelligence, but she also doesn't back down from what she wants. That push-pull is everything.
There's a moment in this chapter that I can't stop thinking about. After Xia Zhi finally takes in all four children, she comes to what she herself calls a "tragic realization": all four of them look exactly like Wen Shihan. Not a single one resembles her. As she puts it, "It was as if she had merely delivered them, and once the delivery was done, she was no longer needed." On the surface, this is just a funny, self-deprecating thought. But underneath? It's the entire thematic question of this story. Who does Xia Zhi belong to in this future? She's the mother, the wife, the center of this family photograph—but genetically, visibly, she's erased. She's the vessel, not the source. And yet the children's love for her is undeniable. Wen Yi clings to her neck. Wen Le demands hugs. They don't care that she doesn't look like them. The marriage certificate date—September 9, only three months after the elevator accident—carries similar weight. Nine plus nine. A date that looks like a promise but feels like a collision. The accident that brought them together also nearly killed them. Love and danger as twin forces. And then there's Wen Shihan's smile. Xia Zhi notes that she had never seen him smile before, that he was always serious and intimidating. But in the photo, in that white shirt, he looks "quite handsome." The smile that exists only in a future she hasn't lived yet. The theme here is clear: identity is not fixed. The man she feared becomes the man who gently strokes his son's hair. The woman who feels like an impostor becomes the mother four children beg for pinky promises. The question the story keeps asking is: when everything changes, what remains? And the answer, quietly, is love—messy, inconvenient, hot-spring-planning love.
"Be good, don't cry. Big brother's here. Don't be afraid." I need a moment. That line. That whole scene. Yun Shu not even bothering to put on her shoes before running to the door, and then just falling apart in his arms after being all alone in that tiny apartment for who knows how long. The author really just went in for the kill here. What got me wasn't even the big dramatic reunion—it was the small stuff. Like how Yun Ruizhe immediately notices her apartment is smaller than her old bedroom and his expression darkens. Or how he remembers she has almost no life skills and can't cook, so he just *immediately* decides to hire someone for her. This guy has been gone and yet he knows her so completely. That's the kind of sibling love that hits different. And Yun Shu's internal monologue about her brother beating up whoever called her sickly back in the day? Chef's kiss. It explains so much about why she felt safe with him and why his presence here means everything. She's been holding it together alone and the second he walks through that door, all of it just comes pouring out. The system asking "Master, are you happy now?" right after was such a perfect counterpoint too—this tiny floating thing that doesn't fully understand human emotion but can still recognize when her master is genuinely content. Made me soft. Also can we talk about Shi Muchuan walking in on this moment and misinterpreting it? Because that's going to hurt later when he finds out the truth, right? Right? I'm already dreading that scene and it hasn't even happened yet.
can you add images to help visualize it more in other chapters?
PEAK is underestimated, it is SUPER PEAK
I like this. There are traumas out there and this is one of them being in the shadow of your sister can be so devastating and being unloved by your parents is even worse. I hope she gets the love she deserves ?
Hi So I'm writing this review cause i loved your novel i didn't leave the chapter comment because I was listening your story because I was busy so I can't able to read it? so although you story is great but I got little confused in the start of the novel maybe you can make it more clear about the reborn phenomenon beside that this story is perfact atleast for me ?
Eu sou o escritor, e sei o quão trabalhoso é escrever esse livro e o quanto me esforço para que ele seja melhor que o anterior.
An Engaging and Unique Fantasy Read!I just finished The Green Spirit: Spirits in the Pleasure, and I have to say, this book surprised me in the best way! From the very first chapter, the story pulled me in with its intriguing premise and immersive world-building. Richard’s journey is full of twists, and the way he gets entangled with the Green Spirit kept me hooked.The realm of Cadearus is beautifully crafted, filled with rich history and magic that feels both mysterious and dangerous. I loved how the magic wasn’t just a tool but something deeply woven into the fate of the characters. The antagonist, Tesior, was particularly interesting—his presence loomed over the story in a way that made every encounter with him feel tense and unpredictable.My only minor gripe was that I wanted a little more time to connect with some of the side characters, but the fast-paced storytelling and suspense made up for it. The writing flows well, and the blend of action, mystery, and supernatural elements made this book hard to put down.If you love fantasy with deep lore, magic, and a protagonist struggling against forces beyond his control, The Green Spirit is definitely worth the read. Plus, knowing this is the first of a trilogy makes me even more excited for what’s next! I Highly recommended for fans of fantasy and adventure!
So concentrating on new novel instead of the one people actually read I have watched strongest mage go dead and suddenly back not gonna start this one when first one is inconsistent