I Really Can’t Drive a Mecha

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Liang Huan was an emperor. He spent thirty years unifying the world, only to die from overwork and transmigrate to a world several hundred years in the future.

His uncle told him that in a few hundred years, people would live peaceful and happy lives, with no worries about food or clothing, where everyone was equal.

He stood in a barren desert. In front of him were mountain-sized spaceships and rockets, and behind him were twisted zombies and ferocious heteromorphs. Then, he was kicked to the ground.

A tall, long-legged man with sharp features had a cigarette dangling from his lips. His heavy boot pressed down on Liang Huan’s fair face as he sneered, “Little bastard, where do you think you’re running?”

Liang Huan blinked slowly and severed the man’s Achilles tendon.

Li Yao, the number one mercenary in Earth’s Eastern District, almost became a cripple on the very first day he got a “wife.”

He looked at the pretty boy he had tied up like a crab, the tip of his knife lifting the other’s chin. “If you didn’t know how to pilot a mecha, do you think I would have traded three gold medals for you?”

Liang Huan was a little bewildered.

“Tell your husband, what kind of mechas can you pilot?” Li Yao patted his fair, tender cheek with the flat of his knife.

Liang Huan’s expression didn’t change. “Zhen can pilot them all.”
(Note: 朕 (Zhèn) is the imperial pronoun for “I,” used by emperors.)

Li Yao: “…”

And then, the only remaining 3S-class mecha on Earth was sunk into the East China Sea.

Pairing: An emperor who specializes in curing all kinds of defiance (Gong/Top) × A conceited, arrogant, and badass king of mercenaries (Shou/Bottom)
Liang Huan × Li Yao