The Guide is Actually a Body-Switching Esper [BL] - Chapter 4: Noah Murray

An ordinary person who has never been in contact with games travels to the world of elves. Without a prominent background, no golden fingers, and no mysterious grandfather, where should he go?

This article is very cold-blooded and the protagonist is very selfish. If you think it is poisonous weed, don’t click on it. Thank you.

- Description from novelbuddy

At 35, Lin Zhi finally died from exhaustion on the delivery table!In her life, she was never married or had children, faced with a difficult and bumpy fate, but fortunately, she successfully delivered 3000 babies.After death, she arrived in hell, where King Yan, appreciating her merit, allowed her to be reborn at the age of 20, and even bestowed her with a pair of... Holy Hands for delivering babies?!Lin Zhi was somewhat bewildered, she didn't want to be a midwife again!“King Yan sir, that... actually, you could grant me a cool, super-rich, devastatingly handsome husband who would love me for a lifetime.”King Yama said, “Lin Zhi, I think you'd better come back to hell with me!”

Zhou Yanci, who was blessed by the heavenly official, in this life, only wants to let himself go.

Whoever blocks it, whoever it is!

  Delicate daughters want to counterattack, and smart girls are much happier.

Xianggong: The lady has turned black, the husband is so scared!

  Your town house expert has brought the aura of Hongfu Qitian to the hot line.

- Description from novelbuddy

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”