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Film Emperor’s Adorable Wife From Ancient Times - By JingFenYouziCha

AChan
This is a Machine Trasnlation Description Yang Anyu, he is the general’s personal bodyguard. In the end, his soul transmigrated into a second-generation young master from the modern world, and after that, he once again encountered his “General” Yi Chenyan. The great general he especially respected and revered, actually became an actor? (And is in fact, the popular Film Emperor) What made Yang Anyu more shocked——he was already “married” to Yi Chenyan. Several years later—— Fan A: Our Little Yu’s face-quality is high, acting ability is good, can sing and dance, when filming action scenes he is even more handsome, handsome to the point of collapse! Completely is a capitalized Su word! Fan B: If I cannot sleep with Yang Anyu in this life is there still any meaning to it? Fan C: But I heard he’s already married, his wife must have saved the whole world in her last life ah! Yi Chenyan: …… Big Film Emperor Yi looked at a certain Yang Someone under his body, recently he’s been becoming more and more possessive towards him, what to do? ◇Reminders on entering the pit◇ ① Yi Chenyan X Yang Anyu, 1V1* (Indifferent and calm, later turn into affectionate loyal dog gong* X optimistic and lively, will be possessive only towards the gong, shou*) ②Modern Whimsy*, non-serious entertainment circle story; Silly, white and sweet, have Golden Thumb* and Sue Lightning*, cannot argue about author’s IQ, don’t like don’t spit, please make a detour, thanks! Author 精分柚子茶 Associated Names ผมเป็นภรรยาของสามีแห่งชาติ 影帝家的古代萌妻
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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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