Spending My Retirement In A Game - Chapter 937: The Hallway (3)

# gourmet # entrepreneurship # eight years old # younger sister # business

Xu Le transmigrated to a parallel universe into the body of an adorable eight-year-old. Here, there are no delicacies.

His parents went abroad, leaving him behind to earn his own keep.

His parents said, “Son, it is time you become a man and become financially independent. Make your own money and bring up your younger sister.”

Xu Le, “I understand, but at least pay off the mortgage before you leave!”

Forced by his circumstances, elementary school student Xu Le shouldered a burden that was beyond his age.

He begins his life of paying off the mortgage, bringing along his younger sister, Xu Tian, along for the ride.

Just then, the “Culinary God” system was awakened.

He could get all sorts of prizes if he cooked delicious food for people to try.

As such, a food stall started to appear on a busy street. In it was a tiny figure as a cook and a long line of customers.

*Slow Burn Historical Fantasy Novel*

Elise had about to change into the dress that was lying on the corner of her bed when she heard a knock lightly calling from her door. Curious, she turned the door knob only to have a tall man towering in front of her.

“Master Ian!” She called.

Ian smiled with the usual mischievous smirk that he always used. His crimson eyes trailing a little over her room and spotted the black dress over her bed and shifted his eyes over to the woman in front of him. He stepped forward and spoke. “Where did you acquire that dress?”

“Mr. Harland gave it to me.” Elise replied and strained her neck to see Ian’s brows knitted in its elegance.

“Do you know why a man would love to give a woman a dress?” He gave the riddle that she always had to think twice before replying. But this time, she found no answer and instead shook her head. “I don’t know.”

His grin grew bewitching as though something had stirred deep inside the scarlet eyes that he had. He slowly slid his hand over the collar of her dress, sending a cold shiver that startled her for a moment due to its freezing temperature. After unbuttoning the first two buttons on her collar, he tilted his head down, whispering to her ears. “Because they want to be the one to undress the cloth.”

He paused and kissed her neck, turning the pale skin to red before retracting his move to fix his eyes on her and leisurely replied. “Unfortunately, you can’t wear the dress over there with this.” He chuckled and passed a box over to her hand. “And the fortunate news is I prepared a dress for you.”

Elise was a cursed little girl who could see ghosts. Her family hated her and threw her from one adoptive family to another. However, misfortune didn't act alone. When she was brought up by her aunt, she was sold as a slave. When she had thought she would become nothing but a sacrifice to the sorcerer, she was saved by a man whose identity was far different than a normal mythical being.

Suddenly, the unmarried twenty-year-old Ye Zhizhou had many more relatives, yet it was too late for him to clearly understand the circumstances as he nearly died in a car accident. After that, he somehow managed to survive and was even forcibly bound to a Salvation System.

How is it salvation?

Harems destroy worlds! Preventing a harem will save them!

. . . .

Ok, prevent harems. After seeing the entire system introduction, the corners of Ye Zhizhou’s mouth twitched. In order to return home safely, he decisively began his risky journey—he’d just treat it as if he was playing a large-scale strategy game.

Since then, the people the protagonist would rescue, he rescued first.The businesses the protagonist would make, he made first. The little brother the protagonist would take in, he took in first. The cliff the protagonist would jump off of, he jumped off of first. The gay s*x the protagonist would have, he’d have. . . . Wait wait, can’t do this one, change it, let me change it.

???: No, you can do this one.

Ye Zhizhou (alarmed): Who’s speaking?

???: Your husband.

Ye Zhizhou: . . . .

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