Scumbag System Manhua

My husband doesn't touch me on our wedding night. He claims he's too tired and asks me to wait. Then, he sneaks into the basement in the wee hours of each night. Whenever he returns, he needs to shower to wash away an indescribable smell. I ask him what he does down there, and he tells me he works out. Why would anyone work out in the middle of the night? I can't take it anymore. One night, I decide to sneak into the basement to see what's going on down there. He chases after me and grabs my pajamas, roaring, "Come back up here! I'll divorce you if you step foot down there!"

I go ice fishing with my husband, and we encounter a snowstorm and hailstorm. The mountainside villa has no sustenance and power, and he takes my down jacket to keep his former superior warm. I'm three months pregnant, and my daughter is having a high fever. However, he pushes us out of the villa to look for wild vegetables. Why? Because his former superior wants to eat them. He probably has no idea that I've come to this villa countless times to prepare his anniversary gift. Later, my daughter ends up mentally disabled from the high fever. I finally get my hands on proof of his under-the-table dealings with his former superior. I destroy him before he's promoted!

The day before the piano competition finals, my boyfriend deliberately locked me on the rooftop to help his childhood friend win. He stared at me intently, his voice low and steady. "You'll have plenty more chances. Can't you just let her have this one?" Later, to secure her spot in the orchestra, he went so far as to break my fingers with his own hands. I confronted him in anger, demanding to know why he would do this when we were supposed to be in a relationship. He looked at me solemnly and said, "Susan, Miranda's mother saved me all those years ago, and now I have to fulfill this wish for her." What he didn't understand was that for me, losing the use of my hands felt like losing my very life. After I made the decision to stop loving him, he shattered his own hand, hoping to get my forgiveness.

My husband, James Zeller, and I have established a common-law marriage. We did not have a formal wedding ceremony, nor do we have a marriage license. We also live separately, our lives barely intertwining, because he has a special profession. Therefore, despite being married to him for seven years, we've never met each other's friends and relatives. As his wife, I'm proud of being married to him despite how it pains me. I'm willing to give up the opportunity to study at the National Academy of Sciences to take care of things at home while he works. One day, my son, Jasper Chalder, comes home from elementary school crying. He sobs about not being a bastard child and requests to see James. Greatly distressed, I decide to take him to visit the military base over the new year for a family reunion. However, I don't expect this trip to turn my life completely upside down.

I’m getting married, but my CEO fiancé, whom I had been engaged to for ten years, had no idea. Thanks to his new personal maid, the man has no time to spare for me. The two of them always shadowed one another, and they might as well be sleeping in the same bed. My fiancé even bought a yacht and brought her to the Arctic to see the aurora when she was in a bad mood, completely forgetting that we were supposed to be picking out wedding gowns that day. I spent the entire day waiting in that bridal shop, waiting for a man who would never show up. So I called my dad, “I’m marrying someone else.”

Two days before my wedding, I was sorting through some old belongings when I suddenly remembered the time capsules Ethan Shaw and I buried ten years ago. His expression froze the moment he heard it. He tried to talk me out of going. “It’s been so long. Someone must’ve dug them up already.” I didn’t think much of it and went back to our old school on my own. But at the spot where we buried it, I unearthed five metal boxes of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Ethan and I buried a decade ago, now rusted all over. The other three didn’t belong there—one was just as rusty, while the remaining two looked brand-new. The old box had Rose Quinn’s name carved on it. On top were the words: “My secret crush was a war of myself. Ethan, I wish you happiness.” I remembered her then—an unremarkable girl who used to sit behind us. And the two new boxes were engraved with the names Ethan Shaw and Rose Quinn. The date marked on them was today. On Ethan’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t give you a wedding.” On Rose’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t openly wish you a happy wedding day.”

My fiancé, Owen Lockhart, came from old money. He kept a canary in a gilded cage, spoiling her rotten. Just as I was about to break off the engagement with him, a barrage of comments suddenly popped up in my mind. [What did Owen do wrong? He just wanted to get your attention.] [Don't break up with him. All you need to do is shed a few tears, and he'll give you everything.] I turned my head, and through the window, I saw the canary in her high-end jewelry, smiling brightly as she hooked her arm around Owen's. He lazily lowered his eyes, yet his expression held a hint of indifference mixed with a subtle affection. I smiled bitterly, replying to the lawyer's message: [Go on with drafting the engagement annulment agreement.]

During a mission overseas, I shielded my younger brother from an explosion—only to wake up months later, my body broken, my mind trapped in the void of a coma. Grateful for my sacrifice, he repaid me by marrying my wife. When I finally clawed my way back to consciousness and rushed home, I found my son kneeling on the ground, sobbing as his college acceptance letter lay shredded in his fists. My nephew loomed over him, slamming a steel pipe into his back. "Lick my shoes clean," he sneered. "Who are you to think you deserve an education?" And there was my wife clapping in delight, dabbing the sweat from my nephew’s brow like a doting servant. "You’re just like your deadbeat father," My wife spat. "Born to be my stepping stone." My eyes bloodshot, I tightened my fists. Every last one of them would pay for this dearly.

Commander Samson Gardner was my fiance. In his family was an iron-clad rule—no divorces. Before my brother died, his last wish was for Samson to marry me. So, even after falling in love with his childhood sweetheart, Samson still decided to marry me as promised. However, everything changed the day said childhood sweetheart destroyed the only watch my brother left me. When Samson sided with her again, I didn't argue. I simply reached out to my mentor overseas and started preparing to become a foreign correspondent. Before leaving, I gave myself ten days to put things in order. On the first day, I quietly hid the marriage application I was supposed to submit. On the third day, I turned in my resignation to the military. The day I was to leave, Samson finally remembered the watch and promised to take me to buy a new one on his next day off. Right after that, he ordered me, "Celia is inviting friends over for dinner tonight. Make sure the food is ready before you go." I agreed with a smile—and then never showed up in his world again. Afterward, Samson would stare blankly at the marriage application inside his drawer every time he saw my name in the news. There, within his drawer, were the memories of an autumn not yet fully arrived, the lover he could never win back, and the watch he could never give...

On the day of Zephyr’s art exhibition, I saw people stand around a portrait of myself. My cheeks were flushed, and I was bare. My posture was the one we used in bed last week for fun. Zephyr even got the mole on my chest right. As people stared at me mockingly, I demanded, “Why did you do this to me?” He was unbothered. “It’s not as if I asked you to sleep with someone else.” But he did let people see how I looked when I was having an intimate moment with my own boyfriend! “It’s just a painting. Why are you being so petty?” I was stunned by the mockery in Zephyr’s gaze. Then, I called my assistant. “I’m attending the international art festival as the organizer.”