Chi Yan Sheng Ge
1 Published Story
Chi Yan Sheng Ge's Book and Story
I Have X-ray Vision: Nude Beauties Love Me
Modern It is an ultimate goal and dream for every man to be fully in charge of the power while lying drunk beside a beauty’s knees. There was an ordinary man who had originally led a calm and average life. His life should have been mediocre throughout. However, one day he got a queer stone from an old swindler. Surprisingly, with the help of the stone, he actually possessed the ability to see through things. His whole life was turned upside down overnight. The door to a brand new world was open to him. In the end, having numerous beauties surrounding him, he got caught up in a relationship vortex, a grand scene of fighting over power: Starting from being a mediocre and nameless nobody, he overcame all the difficulties on the way and raked in the power, the beauty, and the wealth all in the end. Let’s have a look at how he had the whole city in the palm of his hand, how he lived a glorious life, and how he made himself a legend with just one simple stone. You might like
Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Fritz Heaney I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."