The Fate of Three Men

Cen Xian'er's final stab had ultimately failed to truly pierce Lu Chengwen's head.

It had only destroyed a pillow.

Lu Chengwen stroked Cen Xian'er's head and stared blankly at the ceiling, muttering to himself.

"You might not believe it, but despite all the absurd things I've done, I was actually... saving the world. You and I are both chess pieces. We can't save ourselves, and we can't resist fate's manipulation."

Cen Xian'er raised her head and looked at Lu Chengwen. Suddenly, an immense sorrow invaded her heart.

Lu Chengwen stared at the ceiling, his eyes moist.

Those eyes held none of the smug arrogance of a man who had taken a girl's virginity, none of his previous cunning and worldliness, and none of any joy, happiness, or relief...

Was this a man's post-nut clarity?

And she could sense Lu Chengwen's sadness—a massive sorrow, like an overwhelming tide that was nearly drowning him.

Cen Xian'er felt like she had gone mad.

She actually sympathized with the trash who had... taken everything from her!

"I'll kill you sooner or later!"

Lu Chengwen smiled, turned his head to look at her, and said, "First, you should put your pants on."

He grabbed three pairs of women's shorts from beside him. "Pick whichever one's yours."

Lu Chengwen didn't know what any of this meant.

Rich men having many women was no secret. It was the same in every world.

But who exactly was he?

He was becoming less and less able to tell, less and less able to understand.

Every time he had fun with a woman, there would be a period afterward when he felt depressed, as though he were nothing more than a tool.

He was like livestock, being played with by others.

He had thought himself invincible in this world—rich, well-connected,