Rebirth Chinese

My younger sister, Lydia Miller, and I are unexpectedly reborn into a beastman tribe, where the Beast God gives us a choice of identity. The first option is to become a beast woman with tremendous strength and a tall, imposing physique. The second option is to become a saintess with the ability to reproduce across species and an alluring, graceful figure. In our previous life, Lydia became a beast woman to survive, while I became the frail saintess. She ended up scorned by the tribe's beastmen for not being feminine enough. Meanwhile, I captured the hearts of the three strongest and most handsome beastmen in the tribe with my delicate frame. I became their most cherished beloved. Eventually, they rose to rule the primeval forest, and I basked in endless glory as their saintess. Driven mad with jealousy, Lydia pushed me into a poison swamp when no one was looking. With my last bit of strength, I plunged a poisonous thorn into her body, and we died together. When I open my eyes again, we're back at the moment when the Beast God asks us to make our choice. This time, Lydia rushes to claim the saintess identity first. "Ella, this time I'll be the saintess. Since I pity you so much, I'll let you have those three defective, impotent beastmen." I bite back the wild joy flooding through me. What's so great about serving as a breeding tool anyway? In a primitive society, strength is everything.

In her past life, when a truck barreled toward them, Lillian Hogan instinctively pushed Elton Ruiz out of harm's way. She paid the price with both her legs crushed. When she woke up in the hospital, the aloof, noble man lowered his head for the first time. Standing by her bedside, he promised to marry her. Tearfully, she accepted the proposal from the man she'd loved since she was eight. But after the wedding, Elton often stayed out all night. His attitude toward her grew cold and harsh. When an infection from her injuries left her on the brink of death, the billionaire didn't spare a single penny for her care. "I never thanked you for saving my life," he said. "Our marriage was a mistake from the start. Let me go." His face grim, he pulled out her oxygen tube. Lillian's eyes widened in shock. In the agony of betrayal and heartbreak, she took her last breath. If she could do it all over again, she vowed never to love Elton again.

Freya Stein was reborn to the day when she had to choose a fiancé. In her past life, she had chosen the high and mighty scion of the Haretts, but Magnus Harett turned out to be a cold and unapproachable man. On the day of their wedding, he lost his mind and ended up driving the car off the cliff while they were heading to the venue. She ended up becoming disabled because of it, while he became paralyzed. Despite all that, she pushed herself to the limit and took care of him for the rest of his life. As she was drawing her last breath, he regarded her icily and refused to save her. “A nasty woman like her has no right to live. It’s time she goes to hell for what she has done to Ifrit.” It was only then that she found out that Magnus had resented her all along because of what happened to the housemaid's daughter who committed suicide in their room. Now that Freya had been given a second chance, she decided she would choose another man to fulfill his wish. However, Magnus turned rabid on the day of her wedding. He showed up and wanted to stop her from marrying another man.

After being reborn, the first thing my cousin and I did was switch grooms. In our previous lives, we had gotten married on the same day. She, gentle and composed by nature, became the wife of Blake Malcolm, the aloof naval commander. On their wedding anniversary, Blake skipped the occasion to celebrate his childhood friend's birthday. My cousin had only wanted an explanation, but Blake claimed his conscience was clear. They fell into a silence that lasted fifty years. And me? With my temper—quick to fight, never one for patience—I had married an accountant from the machinery plant's compound. The accountant was soft-spoken, forever complaining about how loud I was, and how little I cared about appearances. We fought every three days, major arguments every five. Eventually, he stopped coming home. Less than a year into the marriage, we divorced. Then one day, my cousin and I opened our eyes and found ourselves young again—and it was the day we were to marry. Again.

Liam Chase and I were legendary in Celandre City—the most infamous enemies ever bound by marriage. He hated me for being shameless, convinced I'd schemed my way into becoming his wife. I despised him for playing the celibate knight for Alexa Conley and treating me coldly. In eight years of marriage, his most frequent words to me were, "Get out." Then the flood came. The man who'd never spared me a single kindness shoved me onto the last lifeboat. Over the roaring water, he shouted, "Don't look back! Go! Khloe, my debt to you is paid. In the next life, I belong only to Alexa." I lunged for him, but someone wrenched me back. I could only watch as the water swallowed Liam whole. When rescue teams finally came, they found his body bloated, his fingers locked around Alexa's pendant in a grip no one could break. Afterward, I sold everything we owned, donated it all to the disaster relief, and jumped off a building. But when I opened my eyes, I was back… on the night Liam got drugged.

In my last life, I made the dumbest mistake—picked up a Moonlight Ring from the grass. That cursed thing locked me into a mate bond with Silvermoon Pack's Alpha. Too bad his heart already belonged to my sister, Irene. She lived to a hundred, had five pups with her real mate in Ravenshade Pack while I rotted. Every time she got cozy with her mate, Leon tossed me in the basement. "You picked up that ring! I had to watch my true love build a family with someone else!" For eighty years, she lived happily. I barely lived at all. Leon flayed me open, let my skin grow back, then crushed my bones just to watch them heal. Every day felt like dying on repeat. Only when Irene finally kicked the bucket did he let me go. Then boom—I woke up, right back on the day I picked up that damn ring. I wasn't gonna screw it up again. But Irene—always the clean freak—snatched it off the ground before I could stop her.

For sixteen long years, Eulalia Clearwater gave everything to Percival Dunraven, her first and only love, only to be cruelly pushed aside for his new infatuation. Percival believed that without Eulalia, a world of happiness awaited him, a fresh start with a new love. But when he stumbled upon Eulalia's devastating medical diagnosis, panic set in. Rushing to her side, he found her hand entwined with another's, her eyes filled with a resolve he had never seen before. "Why didn't you tell me about your stomach cancer?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fear and regret. Eulalia's response was a bitter laugh, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of pain and liberation. "Didn't you wish for my early demise?" she mocked. "Percival Dunraven, in the final moments of my life, I no longer want to love you."

My husband, Francis Zouche, thought we weren't well-off and could not afford to raise a child. So, he forcibly took me to the hospital to get an abortion. Right after the surgery, I discovered that he had transfered 200 thousand dollars to his first love, Heidi Colman, for her birthday. Out of pure rage, I got into a huge fight with him in the car, which led to an accident that killed us both. When I opened my eyes, we had returned to the day before our wedding. In our previous life, we were married for ten years. We weathered storms and supported each other, but Francis never wanted us to have a child of our own. On the day I died, I finally understood that the one he loved was Heidi. After getting a second shot at life, I decided to fulfill his wish. We canceled the wedding, blocked each other's phone numbers, and never contacted each other again. Eight years later, Francis became a top lawyer in Alvren and publicly proposed to Heidi at a law forum. Seeing that I was still single, he mocked me with a sneer, "Yvette, I know you loved me for two lifetimes. But I am getting married now. Don't keep waiting for me to come back to you." I glanced at him wordlessly and bent down to pick up my daughter before walking away. As a shocking realization hit him, his eyes reddened. He questioned furiously, "Didn't you promise to love me forever and to only give birth to my children?"

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal. "I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail." Tears. Fake concern. "This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand. I signed it. In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility. This time? I played along. By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets. Nancy? Front and center. "Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!" But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said, "Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"