Looking for books similar to Picked Up a Treasure on My Way Out, and Sister Ning Fell from the Sky! Here's a super good, super sweet teacher-student romance about a rebellious disciple trying to seduce his master. It's a treasure, rated 7.5. The author is a young woman who specializes in sweet romances. If it's not good or sweet, you can beat the author to death. The author updates
## When the end comes, he becomes the only protagonist who can take the stage >Red meteors tear the sky apart, and human civilization collapses overnight. > Rockets become scrap metal, cars become sculptures, and science becomes a joke. >The gray world is like a reflection in a mirror, dragging civilization into the abyss of disorder. >Human life is like a piece of grass, disappearing silently in the gray mist. >Only he, wearing a bloody red robe, stood on the ruins of civilization. >Chen Ling stood on the dilapidated high platform, crying and laughing sometimes. >Behind me, the curtain of the era slowly opened. >He opened his arms and whispered softly to all the sentient beings: >"The show... Begins." --- A red wound stretched across the once blue sky and would never heal. That was not sunset, but something colder and crueler. Ever since the disaster called "Red Star" tore through the sky and crashed onto the earth, the cornerstone of civilization that mankind is proud of has been cracking like rotten wood. The rocket became a strange sculpture gathering dust in the museum, leaving only its shell pointing towards the stars, but unable to escape from the center of the earth. Nuclear bomb? It was nothing but a false deterrent in ancient legends. Its codes and principles were completely erased from the collective memory of all mankind as if by an invisible giant hand. The plane froze on the runway, becoming a huge and silent steel tombstone. The car lies on the street, with no heartbeat under the hood, and the iron shell makes a silent whine amid rust. The lights went out, the Internet went silent, and the inside of precision instruments became a mess that no one could solve... The Tower of Babel built by modern science over three hundred years suddenly collapsed overnight into an endless ruin of despair. However, the disaster is far from over. The darkness, a suffocating darkness that seemed to come from the back of the world's mirror, spread silently like a sticky tide with the arrival of red meteors. It saturates the air, blocks the sun, distorts familiar street outlines, and transforms the reinforced concrete forest into a foreign land filled with ghosts. This gray is not static. It creeps and penetrates slowly and irresistibly, dragging the remaining order into the quagmire of chaos little by little. Laws, morals, social contracts... These slender threads that maintain civilization are as fragile as spider webs under the gray erosion and can easily break. Instead, there is primitive fear, naked plunder, and a bottomless abyss of disorder that may swallow people up at any time. In this gray quagmire, human life is as insignificant as withered grass randomly rolled up by the cold wind. Chen Ling huddled against the cold iron wall of the abandoned subway ventilation duct, with every breath carrying the smell of rust and despair. Outside the pipe, the gray fog rolled like a living thing, and there was an inhuman, tooth-grinding sound of chewing from inside, occasionally mixed with a human scream that was so short that it was almost inaudible, and then stopped suddenly, as if it had never existed. Inside the pipe, seven or eight other survivors were crowded, their bodies shaking like chaff, their teeth chattering uncontrollably, beating out desperate beats in the dead silence. They tightly covered their mouths and noses, forcing even the tiniest sobs deep in their throats, for fear that any extra breath would attract the distorted predators cruising in the fog. A middle-aged man with a sallow complexion and thin muscles was curled up on the outermost side, twitching violently. His bloodshot eyes widened in horror, staring at the billowing gray mist at the mouth of the pipe, as if he saw the impermanence of his life. There was a strange "ho ho" sound in his throat, and his body shrank back uncontrollably. The rough soles scraped against the rusty pipe wall, making a harsh "sizzle" sound. This sound was no more than a thunder in the absolute silence. The hearts of everyone in the pipeline were instantly clenched by the cold hands of fear, almost stopping beating. A few desperate and angry eyes were like poisoned arrows, stabbing hard at the trembling man. It's over! Sure enough, outside the pipe, the scalp-numbing chewing sound suddenly stopped. Immediately afterwards, there was a "rustling" sound of some kind of slippery and heavy body being dragged across the rubble, from far to near, with a cold and precise sense of life, coming straight towards the vent! The gray mist surged violently, as if there were countless invisible, sticky tentacles eagerly reaching out to this small refuge. "No... No..." Someone squeezed out a broken breath from between his teeth, with a cry of death. At this critical suffocating moment, a figure suddenly stood up from behind the crowd. The movement was abrupt, with a determination that was incompatible with the despair around him. It's Chen Ling. There was no expression on his face, no fear, no anger, just an almost dead indifference. Under everyone's horrified gaze, he did not choose to hide in deeper darkness. Instead, he took steps, one step after another, through the filthy dust accumulated in the pipe, going against everyone's instinct to survive, and walked straight towards the vent where the smell of death was the strongest! "Are you crazy?!" A strong man next to him screamed at the top of his lungs with his eyes split open. He stretched out his hand to grab the corner of Chen Ling's tattered clothes, but failed. Chen Ling turned a deaf ear. He stopped in front of the vent, and the gray mist almost licked his pale face. He slowly raised his hand, not to fumble for the weapon - that thing had already become scrap metal like the car or plane - but to reach for the old rattan box that he had been holding tightly in his arms. The lid of the box was opened, revealing a neatly stacked but extremely dazzling deep red color inside. That's his opera robe. As red as blood. He unfolded it with an almost religious sense of ceremony. The dazzling red satin flowed in the dim light, as if it had just been peeled off from a huge wound, with wet blood. As soon as he raised his arm, the heavy red robe with the smell of old dust and a faint blood surged up like a wave of blood and hung steadily on his thin shoulders. The wide sleeves of his robe fell down, covering almost half of his body. Only the red color burned everyone's sight against the gray background. He raised his head slightly, his jaw tightened, and his gaze penetrated the billowing gray mist and stared into the indescribable darkness outside. There was still no expression on his face, but the corners of his mouth moved upward in an extremely strange way, forming a stiff and chilling arc, like a puppet forcibly suspended by invisible threads. Then he spoke. Not a cry for help, not a curse, but a line of play that was as clear as ice beads falling off a jade plate. The sound was not loud, but it strangely penetrated the suppressed whimpering in the pipe and the terrifying dragging sound approaching outside the pipe. It had a cold texture like metal friction. The words were clear and hit the nerves of every survivor on the verge of collapse: "Bao Longtu - meditate in - Kaifeng Mansion -!" The sound exploded in the narrow pipe! It was not a simple singing, every word uttered seemed to have a physical tremor. The air suddenly suffocated, and invisible ripples spread suddenly with Chen Ling as the center. Outside the pipe, the slippery and heavy dragging sound suddenly stopped! Immediately afterwards, an inhumanly sharp howl tore through the gray mist, filled with rage and... A trace of indescribable panic? It was as if the ancient lyrics, belonging to another world of order, were a hot iron, scorching the soul deep in the gray mist. The gray mist boiled violently, like stagnant water thrown into a boulder. Deep in the thick fog, several huge and twisted black shadows could be vaguely seen twisting and colliding crazily, making dull crashing sounds and even more shrill howls. They are killing each other! The ancient aria containing the will of "selflessness" and "majesty of the law" was like an invisible guillotine, slashing into their chaotic origins, triggering a horrific implosion! Inside the pipe, there was deathly silence. The survivors forgot to tremble and breathe. They were like clay and wood sculptures. Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, and they were fixed on the tall and upright figure in the blood robe in front of the vent. That touch of red, against the background of the churning gray fog, burned their retinas and burned through the barriers to their cognition. Chen Ling was unaware of the deathly silence behind him and the chaotic fighting in front of him. He was immersed in some emotion that only he understood. The indifference on his face shattered, and his muscles twisted, changing into an extremely complex expression - sadness was like an abyss, pleasure was burning like poisonous fire, and an almost destructive madness rolled deep in his eyes. He suddenly opened his arms, and the blood-red sleeves spread out behind him like huge butterfly wings, making a hunting sound, as if he wanted to embrace this all-devouring gray world. At this moment, behind him, the huge ruins background composed of twisted steel bars, broken concrete and hanging wires, against the backdrop of the billowing gray fog and bloody theater robes, produced a creepy hallucination - as if it was not the remains of civilization, but an extremely huge, heavy, dusty and blood-stained curtain of the times that was slowly opening! Chen Ling turned her head slightly, and her face, torn by madness and sorrow, showed a thrilling and enchanting beauty against the blood-red collar. The corners of his dusty lips once again raised that terrifying arc, and his eyes swept over the frozen human faces behind him, like lambs waiting to be slaughtered. A voice as light as a whisper, but with strange penetrating power, was clearly sent into the ears of every survivor, like a cold needle, piercing their numb nerve endings: "The show... Begins." The blood-red robe corners fluttered, like the karma fire of hell igniting the ashes of the end of the world. Deep in the pipeline, a little girl with a sallow face and skinny face, tightly held in her mother's arms, suddenly stretched out her dirty fingers and pointed at Chen Ling's red robe that looked particularly dazzling in the dim light. Her eyes were wide open. There was no joy in the aftermath of the disaster, only pure, blood-freezing horror. Her voice was so high-pitched that it changed its tone: "Blood... Mother... That robe... Is bleeding! So much... So much blood... Flowing from his back!" The woman covered the child's mouth, her movements rough and frightening, but her eyes could not help but follow the child's fingers and fixate on Chen Ling's back. The crimson opera robe was silently spreading downwards and smudged at the shoulder blades. The color was darker and more viscous than the surrounding fabric, like fresh, warm blood oozing out from an invisible wound. Gray mist rolled outside the vents, and the fighting howls inside became more and more shrill, as if playing a strange prelude to the blood that quietly seeped out.
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