I'd like something along the lines of *Three Kingdoms: The Abandoned Soldier's Journey*. Please add this book to your bookshelf and ask the author for an update. It's rough being a newcomer; this is the only way to get noticed.
The male protagonist is reborn. He had a two-way secret love in his previous life. He thought the other person liked someone else but didn't dare to say it. The female protagonist was shot through the heart and died in his arms while trying to save her. They are each other's eyes and sweethearts. The male protagonist is reborn and is competitive and strong. He confesses his feelings and chases his wife in the crematorium.
Spend an hour writing a book review? This book is really worth it. Where is the ruthlessness in "Tiandao Guiyuan"? It deconstructs "cultivating immortality" - the spiritual roots stand aside, and the vitality frequency is the underlying code. Yuan pattern programming, star gate transportation, Guixu network, seventeen realms and nine heavens, 108 forces are tearing each other apart on the axis of cause and effect. The star palace wants to "format" the universe, and the eclipse wants to "mute" everything. The settings are self-consistent, the logic is online, and the imagination is really big. It's not a trick, it's a true reconstruction of the system. One hour is not enough to write, because just setting it up takes half a day.
Who can help me give me a five-star review with comments [I'm about to cry] plus reminders and bookshelf, I will provide mutual support (as long as you follow me, you will follow me)
✨This book is poisonous, please read with caution! Once you open it, you can't stop. # Fantasy shuangwen # rebirth counterattack # funny master and apprentice # my fate is up to me, I can't help it
Newbie, new book, no book reviews, no one has put it on the shelves. If you write a book review for me, I will definitely write back. Please help me if you pass by.
Real? Thanks. In the past, when we wrote each other's books, I always read them for four or five hours and wrote a long review of Baizi. Then no one came back.
Ma San reached out to call him, put his hand on Chen Jianguo's shoulder, and pushed him aside. Chen Jianguo raised his hand, took his hand off his shoulder, and pushed it out. The force was not strong at that time, but the movement was very crisp. Ma San looked at his hand that was pushed away and was stunned. Then he laughed - not really a smile, just the kind of smile where he felt he had lost face and had to make more noise to get it back. He pushed up the sleeves of his military coat and spat on the ground. "I gave you face, didn't I? Brothers, let this kid know who has the final say in this area." The few people behind him dispersed and gathered around from the bottom of the wall. Someone went around to the side and blocked the way to the luggage room. The other big guy clenched his fists and pressed forward, his joints cracking. Xiulian took half a step back and hit the wall with her back. Her fingers clenched the strap of the cloth bag tightly, and the corner of her eyes glanced to the left and right sides, trying to figure out where to run. But Chen Jianguo did not run away. It's not that he doesn't want to run, it's that he can't run - Xiulian is behind him, and his back is facing her, blocking her in the corner. This posture was not chosen by him, it was instinctive. He placed his weight on the balls of his front feet and opened his hands slightly to protect the space behind him. Ma San punched over. Chen Jianguo stepped aside, grabbed his wrist and pulled him diagonally downwards. Ma San staggered two steps due to his own momentum. The big guy next to him rushed up from the side, grabbed him around the waist, and pushed him against the wall. His back hit the brick wall of the luggage room, and his shoulder blades hit the cracks of the bricks, causing pain. Ma San took the opportunity to get up and punched him on the cheekbone. He tilted his head to the left, but still didn't avoid it - the corners of his eyes hurt, and stars appeared in front of his eyes. He gritted his teeth, got out from under the big man's arm, raised his foot and kicked Ma San on the waist, causing Ma San to stagger back several steps and knocking over an empty luggage cart standing by the wall. The iron wheels collapsed to the ground with a clatter, and the axles were still spinning. A gangster next to him picked up half of a shoulder pole that someone had thrown on the ground, rounded it up and threw it at his shoulder. Chen Jianguo raised his left arm to block it - the pole hit his arm, causing his whole arm to become numb from the wrist to his shoulder. He groaned and stumbled back two steps, but did not fall. Xiulian gave him a hand behind him, and he could feel the strength of her fingers through the blue cloth gown - it was tight, but very stable. At this moment, a clear scolding came from outside the crowd. "Stop it!" The voice was sharp and filled with unquestionable momentum. The crowd was stunned for a moment and turned their heads. Zhao Hongying stood at the door of the luggage room. Today she wore a black woolen short coat, a red scarf, and a white knitted hat on her head. On her feet were a pair of black leather shoes with heels, which were polished to a high shine. In the station square of that era, a girl dressed like this was not an ordinary person. She had just walked over from Changjiang Road, carrying a paper bag with "Changchun Department Store No. 2" Printed on it in her hand. The paper bag was bulging, probably from the new clothes she bought at the No. 2 Store. Next to her stood a girl dressed similarly to her, her sister, also holding a paper bag in her hand. Seeing the situation in front of her, she took half a step back and tugged on Hongying's sleeve: "Hongying, don't get involved..." Hongying ignored her. She stuffed the paper bag into her sisters' hands and stepped forward with her black leather shoes clack-clumping, her red scarf fluttering in the wind. The folding umbrella in her hand - she usually likes to take a folding umbrella with her when she goes out to protect herself from the sun in summer and snow in winter - is now held upside down in her hand, with the tip of the umbrella pointed at Ma San's face. "You, a grown-up, bullied a young man, and you brought a bunch of people with you. Are you embarrassed? If you can, go to Old Wangtou from the railway police station and see if he doesn't handcuff you to the heating pipe and squat all night." Her voice was crisp and loud, and people passing by in the square in front of the station looked at her. Ma San covered the waist where he was kicked and was about to have a fit when he saw it was a woman and smiled. "Who are you?" "I'm your aunt." Hongying passed the tip of her umbrella forward, almost poking Ma San's nose, "Ma San, you are asking around the station, who doesn't know what you do? Last month you helped the old man from Jiutai You asked someone for 50 cents to carry a bag, but you threw it into the pool. The old man cried in the waiting room all night, but I asked Jianye to fish it out. You still have the nerve to act like this? " Ma San's face turned the color of pig liver. He recognized her - the second girl of the old Zhao family in Dongsantiao, Chen Jianye's partner. Who is Chen Jianye? He served as a soldier, worked in front of the station for two years, and now drives a train in the locomotive depot. The brothers Heizi Dabin and Erfei under him are not easy to mess with. Ma San swallowed, but in front of so many brothers, he couldn't be timid. He raised his hand to pull the umbrella - "You bitches, mind your own business." As soon as he finished speaking, a hand reached out from outside the crowd and grabbed his wrist. Chen Jianye was wearing blue overalls from the locomotive department, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and veins bulging on his forearms. Behind him were Heizi, Dabin, and Erfei - Dabin was still holding a handful of melon seeds in his hand, and he didn't even have time to spit out the melon seed shells, so he ran after him; Erfei was out of breath while running, and his stomach was shaking under his work clothes; Heizi picked up a stove hook that someone had thrown away from the ground, weighed it in his hand, and poked it at the base of the wall, causing the ash in the cracks in the bricks to fall down. He was tall and stood like a wall behind Da Bin and Er Fei. The people behind Ma San turned pale when they saw Chen Jianye. The big man loosened his grip on Chen Jianguo's collar and took a step back. The person holding the pole threw it to the ground. The pole bounced on the ground and rolled to the bottom of the wall. Chen Jianye held Ma San's wrist so tightly that all five of Ma San's fingers spread out. The iron pipe fell from his hand and hit the ground with a clang. "Ma San, do you dare to touch my brother?" Chen Jianye's voice was not high, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth. "Brother Jianye," Ma San's voice was half lower, "I didn't know he was your brother. He kicked me first -" "He kicked you? How many of you? How many of him?" Chen Jianye threw his hand to the side, "Get out. If you let me see you bullying others in front of the station again, I will make it impossible for you to hang out in this place." Ma San covered his wrist and his lips trembled. He wanted to say something harsh but didn't dare. Finally he spat on the ground and turned around and left. His brothers followed suit, walking very quickly, with their heads lowered, and no one looked back. Chen Jianguo leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. The bruise on the cheekbone was bigger than before, the corners of the eyes were a little swollen, and there were a few scratches on the arms. Xiulian stood next to him, handkerchief in her hand - she didn't know when she took it out of the cloth bag - and handed it to him. He took it and pressed it to the corner of his eye. The handkerchief was old and washed white, with a small crooked flower embroidered on the edge. The flower was embroidered with great care and the stitches were densely packed. Xiulian embroidered it herself. Hongying put away her umbrella, tucked it under her arm, and walked over to take a look at Chen Jianguo. She glanced from his torn cuffs to the bruise at the corner of his eye, then turned to Jianye and said, "Is this your brother? He looks a lot like you." There was no disgust or surprise in her tone, only a sense of helplessness that "Why are you old Chen family members so trouble-making?" Jianye nodded, walked over, helped Jianguo up from the wall, and patted the brick dust on his shoulder. I didn't say "Why are you causing trouble again?" Nor did I say "I'll settle the score with you when I get home." He just patted the dust, then turned to Heizi and said, "Go and call Old Wangtou." Heizi poked the stove hook under the wall, turned around and ran away. His steps were long and he crossed the square in just a few steps. The police station in front of the station is in a two-story building on the west side of the square. The exterior wall is made of gray bricks, and the windows are equipped with iron bars. There is a Yangtze River 750 police three-wheeled motorcycle parked at the door, with the words "Public Security" spray-painted on the side of the vehicle. Lao Wangtou was drinking tea in the room. When Heizi opened the door and went in, he brought up a gust of cold wind and blew the duty chart on the table to the ground. "Uncle Wang, something happened. Ma San beat Jianye's brother." Old Wangtou put down the enamel jar. "Which Jianye?" "Chen Jianye. From the locomotive depot." "His brother? Chen Jianguo?" "Yes. Over there in the luggage room. Go quickly." Lao Wangtou stood up, put his hat on his head, walked two steps toward the door, and then turned back to pick up the enamel jar. The veteran policemen at the police station in front of the station are all like this. When they go out to handle cases, they never forget to bring a teapot. When he arrived, Ma San had been dragged back by Jianye. No one knows how he dragged Ma San back - Dabin later said that when Brother Jianye was hanging out in front of the station, Ma San was still squatting under the wall picking up cigarette butts and smoking them. At the door of the luggage room, Lao Wangtou was standing between two groups of people with an enamel jar. On the left was Ma San's group, some covering their wrists, some dusting their trouser legs, all with their heads lowered and not daring to raise their eyes; Xiulian stood beside Jianguo. The handkerchief in his hand was already wrinkled by him, but she didn't take it back. Lao Wangtou took a sip of water and looked to the left and to the right. "Tell me about it. Who made the move first?" Ma San spoke first: "Uncle Wang, a bunch of them surrounded me. The boy kicked me, the big man almost stabbed me with a stove hook, and the woman pointed an umbrella in my face and scolded me, humiliating me in public." He pointed at Hongying and spat. Hongying sneered. "Insulting you? I said you were Ma San. There was no one in the station who didn't know who you were - this is called an insult? This is the truth." She glanced at Old Wang's head, "Uncle Wang, I saw it with my own eyes. Ma San and four or five people beat him up. I couldn't stop him. If we hadn't come here, we might not know what would have happened today." "He started with me first!" Ma San pointed at Chen Jianguo, "He pushed me!" "Don't you know who will make the move first?" Xiulian suddenly spoke. Her voice was not loud, but every word was clear and everyone present heard it. "You reach out and push him first. If he stops you from touching me, you start to hit him." She clenched the crumpled handkerchief in her hand and raised her head to look at Lao Wangtou. "He blocked me once at the door of the waiting room last winter. He said he wanted to find a job for me. I ignored him. Today he came again and started to do things. He has an old habit." The old Wangtou looked at Ma San. His expression was not that he was trying a case - he was looking at an old man who had been hanging out on this street for five or six years and finally hit the wall today. "Ma San, how many times have I told you this in the past few years since you were at the station? Count it yourself." Ma San opened his mouth. "The third time." "The third time." Lao Wangtou put the enamel jar on the stone platform next to him. The bottom of the jar hit the stone with a muffled sound. "Tell yourself, how did you promise me last time?" Ma San stopped talking. He lowered his head, and the dark red alcohol smell on his face had faded away, leaving only a face with a scar on the bridge of his nose, droopy eyes, and a face that was no longer young. Lao Wangtou didn't ask him again. He turned around and looked at Chen Jianguo and then at Ma San. Someone in the crowd of onlookers whispered, "We should have dealt with him a long time ago" - it was the old man selling tea eggs, pushing the stove and pushing his way to the front of the crowd, craning his neck to look inside. Lao Wangtou took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Ma San, you brought four or five people to beat someone up. This is a big deal or a small matter. How do you want to solve it?" "I... I'll pay him." "What?" Ma San rummaged around in his pocket, took out some crumpled change, and placed it on the stone platform of Lao Wang's head. Lao Wangtou lowered his head and counted - three dollars and five cents. He looked up at the bruises on Chen Jianguo's face, then at Ma San's face that was almost filled with internal injuries, and pushed the money in front of Chen Jianguo. "Is it enough?" Chen Jianguo didn't look at the money. He glanced at Xiulian. Xiulian stood next to him, with a calm expression on her face, but there was something in her eyes that she had just cried but not cried out yet. It's not pain, it's not fear, it's a kind of exhaustion that I've been holding in for too long and I can finally stop holding it in. She rubbed her feet on the ground, and the cotton soles made a rustling sound on the gray bricks in the square in front of the station. "That's enough." He stood up, folded the three dollars and fifty cents, and put them into the inner pocket of his blue cloth coat. Then he took out two yuan from his pocket - the three yuan he asked for from his mother when he went out, spent one yuan, and had two yuan left - and handed it to Hongying. "Sister-in-law, I'll pay you back. I accepted the kindness you gave me just now. But it's a waste to give money to that thing." Hongying took the money and glanced down. She didn't refuse, but a smile appeared on the corner of her mouth. The way she looked at Chen Jianguo changed - it was no longer the sympathy for the older unemployed youth, but a kind of recognition. Lao Wangtou stood up and picked up the enamel jar. "Okay. It's all gone. Ma San, come back to the institute with me. This time it's not a verbal education." He nodded to Chen Jianguo, "It's time to go to the hospital. It's time to go home." The crowd of onlookers dispersed. The old man selling tea eggs pushed the stove back and said to the loader next to him: "Someone should have dealt with Ma San a long time ago. That girl - the one wearing the red scarf - is amazing. When she poked her with an umbrella, Ma San's face turned green." The loader took the butt of the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground, "That is the target of the eldest son of the old Chen family. None of the old Chen family are vegetarians." I don't know when the sun leaked out of the clouds and fell on the gray bricks in the square in front of the station, clearly illuminating the old dirt and cigarette butts in the cracks of the bricks. The square in front of the station has returned to its usual rhythm - there are people carrying luggage to catch the train, people riding bicycles with jingling bells, and people pushing strollers by the pool. The snowman's head was picked up and put back on his body. It stood crookedly on the edge of the pool with a branch stuck in its mouth. It was probably a pipe that a child had put in it. Hongying took Jianye's arm and walked in front. The folding umbrella in her hand had been put away at some point and tucked under her arm. Dabin squatted under the wall, still holding the handful of melon seeds in his hand, the melon seed shells flying around his mouth. He pursed his lips towards Xiulian and said to Erfei: "Look. That handkerchief. She embroidered it herself." Erfei glanced at it and said nothing. He just brought the enamel jar to his mouth and found that the water had been drained. Chen Jianguo and Xiulian walked at the back. His knees still hurt and he walked with a slight limp, but he said nothing. She walked beside him, and she had already taken back the handkerchief in her hand, folded it squarely, and stuffed it into the cloth bag. Neither of them spoke, but their steps were in the same rhythm - walking fast together when walking fast, and slow together when walking slow. "Don't sleep in the waiting room at night from now on." He said suddenly. "Where to sleep?" "Let me think about it." He put his hand in his pocket and touched the three dollars and fifty cents with his fingers. He remembered something, stopped, took out the three dollars and fifty cents, handed half of it to Xiulian. "Here you go. Ma San owes you." Xiulian looked down at the crumpled bills and didn't take them. He handed it forward again. "Take it. This is what he owes you." She took it, folded the money, and stuffed it into the innermost pocket of her cotton-padded jacket. It was the first time in three years since she came to Changchun that she had her own money. It's not picked up, it's not asked for, it's not given as a gift. It was a bastard named Ma San who owed her money, and a man named Chen Jianguo wanted it back. "Are you going to the grain store tomorrow?" She asked. "Go," he said. This time, he thought he might actually go.
I recommend what I wrote. The data is pretty miserable and no one reads it. It's either a routine article, or a very ordinary daily love story, plus a workplace article. This track is too complicated, and now is the era of AI control. Alas, I am pressing every word. Except for the dream of completing a million words to support my progress, there is no audience...
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