People say death is the ultimate end for any human being; from the day a person leaves the protective cover that is their mother's womb, it is destined to die as that is human nature. It is something tangible. Something unchangeable. People are created, hence they must be destroyed. For something to exist, it must have a certain point at which it will cease to exist.
Lu Haoyu had read these same lines over and over and over and yet as he pushes his glasses back on the slope of his nose, peering below and effectively ruining his back with his posture, he thinks this book is utter bullshit.
The Crimson Tears of Fate. Best selling novel in current times. A blend of royalty, corruption, slavery and the forbidden romance between the Emperor's son and the Resistance movement's leader: a woman. Who was supposedly nineteen years old, and somehow also part royalty, had a frail body yet was miraculously able to fight of a dragon, an army and a guy that was, in the second goddamn chapter, said to be undefeatable by even the best of soldiers.
Haoyu was all for feminism. He had three sisters for God's sake! But at some point, doesn't the overpowering get a bit too tiring?
Like, how much are you going to make this poor girl go through? She's already leading a resistance. She's marrying the prince. She's fighting dragons. She's wearing dresses. She's acting like she's better than royalty but then treating slaves like her personal servants. C'mon, give the girl a poor break!
And don't get him started on the prince.
No, please. Don't get him started.
Haoyu doesn't think he's ever read a male lead so incompetent and so full of himself, it's a surprise his head wasn't in his ass the entirety of the novel. If he is the Emperor's son, why was he written as if he had balls for brains? And on top of that, he practically had no autonomy! Everything about his character revolved around the female lead. His interests? The female lead. His dislikes? Anyone who didn't like the female lead. What he wanted to be when grew up? The female lead's boy toy.
It was shit.
The villains were useless, especially Haoran of the Zhang Sect. He and that Sect were utterly, completely useless. Concuting a plan to assassinate the female lead, except the useless dead weight flaunted that information around and when the Prince found out, off with his head it was! And that entire conflict, again, somehow, spanned over a course of thirteen fucking chapters. Do you know what Haoyu could've done with that time?
Had a nice long shit instead of reading it!
Now, Haoyu didn't just have bad things to say about this novel—he would give credit where it was due (not that this book deserved it!), the plot was good, at first. It's not everyday you see someone trying to tackle slavery, wrestle the hypocrisy of being royalty while actively falling in love with the person they're supposed to hate. Haoyu thinks, in some dystopian world, maybe the author liked writing and wrote a masterpiece of a book. In the universe, apparently, the author was a douchebag and middle schooler Haoyu had wasted his monthly allowance on this godforsaken book. Now, the book followed him around like some sort of bad omen.
Speaking of bad omens, he raised his head slightly, staring at the light that was practically blinding him. His computer was lit up, a neat system he had bought after saving up from his salary (minus the fact that that month his stomach had begrudgingly accepted cup noodles and beer as it's breakfast, lunch and dinner) except instead of his games that he usually played, a blinking cursor stared back at him.
Fuck.
Didn't Bao Yuzihe tell him to make a document about the monthly earnings by midnight? And to send them without fail? Unless he wanted to taste the fury that was of his balding, middle aged boss.