Lin Jiangye was an outstanding trainee Grim Reaper who was about to officially take office. On the night before he became a god, competition among his peers led to an indescribable accident… After secretly devouring half a divine core, he died, hurriedly resigned, and ran away. He turned into a remnant soul, drifting through the void, when he transmigrated into a melodramatic substitute novel about a scumbag top and a cheap, devoted bottom. He was that cheap, devoted bottom. Delicate, frail, humble, and pitiful. He offered up a sincere heart, only to be treated as a beautiful plaything who could be summoned and dismissed at will. Lin Jiangye tilted his head. “Something seems wrong, but I don’t understand it.” While the scumbag top was showering in the bathroom, Lin Jiangye immediately started packing his things, preparing to run away again. But he had no money, no power, and no divine strength. He could not harvest souls, and even this sickly body was half-dead. He could not even run out of the scumbag top’s luxurious manor. Before recovering his health, the only thing Lin Jiangye could do was… peek at the fate others would face before death. Without hesitation, he turned around and went upstairs to find the scumbag top’s uncle, who did not have long to live. —Yu Wangxiao. He was the true, unquestioned person in charge of the Yu family. He held great power and status, and was cold, noble, and reserved. Unfortunately, his life was short. But everything went beyond Lin Jiangye’s expectations. Above Yu Wangxiao’s head, there was no scene showing his final moments before death. Instead, a soft pink glowing sign floated there. On it, three words were written brightly: [Available to Romance] *** Yu Wangxiao had died once. In a pathetic way. The twisted car door crushed flesh and blood. His trapped leg bones shattered into powder. His heart throbbed with waves of tearing pain. He spat out a mouthful of blood and raised his eyes toward the hazy bright moon hidden behind mist and clouds. A mysterious young man dressed in black stood there, his large cloak overturned by the wind. He was very beautiful. His ink-black long hair scattered like hanging satin, and his strange, pure-white pupils slowly lit with an unreasonable, demonic glow. The young man lightly pursed his lips and carefully lifted a sharp scythe twice as tall as both of them, aiming it at his face. Yu Wangxiao’s breathing stopped slightly, and he subconsciously raised his neck. “A sweet soul… I’ll dig in. Thank you.” He heard the beautiful young man murmur softly to himself. His voice was clear, gentle, and sincere. Even the motions of cutting and chewing were especially tender, as if he were slowly savoring a lavish feast. As the soul being enjoyed, Yu Wangxiao also wanted to say thank you. Unexpectedly, he had not died that pathetically. He hoped that next time, they could meet again.