Cherreads

Pregnant and Pampered: The Heiress in a Military Compound

Gathering Wealth from 8 Directions Month by Month
[Scientist Female Lead + Pocket Dimension + Marriage Before Love + Northeast + Devoted Male Lead] After the genius scientist Xie Changning was tragically killed, she transmigrated to the 1970s and became a young lady from a wealthy Shanghai family. Not only that, she also found herself in a flash marriage and already pregnant. Xie Changning looked at her scummy parents who were about to flee to Xiangjiang. She then activated her pocket dimension, emptied the family's assets, and, taking the report from her husband of convenience, headed straight for the great Northeast with her pregnant belly. ... While on a mission, Yue Yihan was set up and ended up in a flash marriage with a beautiful young woman. Since then, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He was well aware that his wife had no affection for him and only hoped she didn't hate him. After sending out the notice, he waited anxiously for two months before his wife finally arrived. Seeing his wife get off the train with her luggage, he immediately wanted to go forward to help. But in his excitement, his knees went weak, and he fell straight to his knees on the ground, performing a grand kowtow for his wife! Then he saw his wife, still carrying her luggage, stride swiftly up to him, slap a piece of paper on his forehead, and say, "A red envelope for your early New Year's greeting!" Yue Yihan took it off and looked closely— A pregnancy test report!
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
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