Li Xiamo
12 Published Stories
Li Xiamo's Books and Stories
Too Late For Regret: The Don's Queen
Mafia My mother was raising her crystal glass to celebrate my long-deferred marriage to Marco when he slammed his hand on the table.
He announced to our powerful Mafia families that he had already claimed another woman.
That woman was Isabella, a fragile, low-level associate. For years, Marco had used me as a forced chaperone, a convenient shield to hide their illicit affair from the Syndicate elders. He had stolen my meticulous ledger work to cover her mistakes, leaving me to endure brutal reprimands from the Underboss. He had even abandoned me in hostile, rival-controlled territory in the dead of night just to escort her safely home.
Now, he was publicly shattering our generation-long alliance.
"What man of consequence would seek out a wife with a spirit as unbending and a heart as cold as yours?" he sneered in front of everyone.
I stared at the man I had grown up alongside. When we were thirteen, I shattered the bones in my own hand pulling him to safety from rival soldiers. He swore a blood oath under Omertà that day to protect me for life.
Yet here he was, treating me like a disposable pawn, discarding our shared history for a pathetic, manipulative girl.
But I didn't cry, and I didn't beg him to stay.
As he turned his back on me to answer a frantic call from his fragile lover, I simply pulled out my phone.
I texted Don Alessandro Moretti, the most feared boss in the city, and allied myself with him instead. The $5 Rejection That Awakened The White Wolf
Werewolf Today marked the third anniversary of my mating to Alpha Kael.
As an Omega, I spent years living on a tiny allowance, believing his lies that our pack was struggling and we had to save every penny.
Then I found the luxury boutique receipt hidden in his winter coat.
He had secretly drained our pack's emergency funds to buy a four-thousand-dollar designer bag for Selene, a high-ranking Beta, while giving me a five-dollar plastic music box.
But the betrayal went much deeper than a cheap affair.
I checked the financial ledgers and realized he had transferred millions to buy a massive luxury estate in his dead father's name, giving full control to his arrogant mother.
When I confronted him at the new villa, he didn't even try to apologize.
Instead, he stood arm-in-arm with Selene, while his mother mocked my low-class background and told me I should beg for the privilege of standing in his shadow.
Kael even unleashed his crushing Alpha Command, trying to force me to my knees in front of his mistress.
For nine years, I sacrificed my youth for this pack, letting my own parents work in freezing forests while his mother bought imported silks with my stolen future.
He thought I was just a weak, pathetic pet who would swallow the humiliation because the fated mate bond was absolute law.
He was wrong.
"I, Elara, reject you, Kael, as my mate."
I dropped the Rejection scroll at his feet, severed our telepathic bond, and walked away to awaken the legendary White Wolf bloodline hidden within my veins. The CEO's Runaway Wife And Secret Triplets
Romance Eleanor signed the thick stack of divorce papers, quietly ending her three-year marriage to the ruthless billionaire Griffin Gill.
Stepping into the lobby, she was hit by a brutal sight: Griffin was already embracing his new lover, Andrea, who loudly boasted about celebrating their victory. Before Eleanor could even process the humiliation, the hospital called. Her beloved grandmother had just flatlined. Collapsing in the ICU, Eleanor was handed another shocking test result. She was pregnant with Griffin's triplets.
Knowing his wealth and power, she knew he would snatch the babies and leave her with nothing. She chose to hide. But during a grueling labor, her only daughter was born with severe congenital renal failure. Penniless and desperate, Eleanor made a heart-wrenching choice. She left the dying infant at the Gill estate's gates, forged her own death certificate, and fled to Europe with her two newborn boys.
For four agonizing years, she buried her grief and transformed into Raina, a world-renowned architect. She built an unbreakable empire to protect her sons, believing she was finally safe from her ex-husband's shadow. But upon returning to New York, a little girl clutching a pink bunny bumped into her legs in a hotel hallway.
"You look just like the lady in Daddy's picture," the child sobbed.
It was her abandoned daughter. And Griffin, piecing together the impossible coincidences, began a frantic, city-wide hunt for his 'dead' ex-wife. Watching his black SUVs surround her safehouse from the window, Eleanor poured a glass of wine and smiled coldly. The war had just begun. Trapped By The Mafia King's Secret Obsession
Mafia To pay off my late father’s ruinous mafia blood debt, I took a lethal job: acting as a body double for a cloistered Mafia Princess in an arranged marriage meeting.
But the man sitting across the polished table was Felix Falcone, the terrifying Underboss—and the boy I secretly loved for three years at our academy.
He didn’t recognize me. To him, I was just a pawn for territory. I swallowed my bitter heartbreak, remembering how he once threw my handmade graduation pastries into the trash without a second glance. I tried to play the perfect fake bride, but my treacherous memory betrayed me. I accidentally revealed intimate details about his habits, from his hatred of dark chocolate to the exact make of his tactical pen. My cover was blown. But instead of executing me for the deception, Felix discovered my true identity. His cold indifference instantly morphed into a terrifying, obsessive possessiveness. He abruptly canceled his mafia marriage, trapped me in his corporate empire as his exclusive secretary, and ruthlessly threatened any man who dared to look at me.
I was completely suffocated and confused. Why was this ruthless predator—a man who once publicly despised me and viewed unions only as tools for absolute power—now hunting me with such dark, unyielding devotion?
Trapped in the shadows of his armored SUV, he leaned in, his scent of cedar and danger wrapping around me as he sent a message demanding my complete surrender. Knowing I could no longer hide, I made my choice and hit send.
“There is no need for a hunt, Felix. I surrender.” Back to the Engagement Feast, I Chose His Uncle
Romance Ciel Miller opened her eyes to the blinding lights of a Manhattan ballroom, realizing she had been reborn on the exact night her life was ruined.
On the stage, the billionaire patriarch of the Chavez family was proudly announcing her engagement to his arrogant grandson, Harry.
In her past life, Ciel had blindly accepted his outstretched hand. That single step plunged her into a suffocating marriage filled with public humiliation and psychological torture, slowly draining her life away until she died. Harry had treated her like a pathetic stray dog, flaunting his absolute ownership while systematically destroying her.
Now, as the polite applause echoed, Harry extended his hand with a sickening smirk, waiting for her to lower her head and submit.
Instead, Ciel stood perfectly rigid and publicly rejected him in front of the entire New York elite.
Harry's face drained of color, while his family quickly mocked her.
"This is a cheap, embarrassing trick to get his attention," his sister sneered.
Harry's arrogant smirk crawled back. He fully believed she was just throwing a childish tantrum to make him jealous, convinced she was absolutely nothing without his wealth and status.
But Ciel looked at the man who had killed her in her past life with freezing disgust.
Then, she turned to the powerful patriarch and dropped a bombshell that left the entire ballroom gasping for air.
"If the family insists on taking care of me, I will marry into the Chavez family."
"But I want to marry the comatose war hero. I want to marry General Deacon Chavez."
She would rather spend the rest of her life with a "vegetable" than wake up next to a monster. Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return
Mafia I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun. Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage
Romance I woke up strapped to a cold steel chair in a neon-lit city that wasn't my reality. A voice in my head called The Warden told me I was bound to a digital hell called the Sandbox.
Before I could even process it, my handler casually sentenced me to death. He scheduled my "digital marriage" to a corrupted error program just to harvest my life for a fourteen percent bandwidth boost.
I barely escaped immediate erasure by smashing his skull and jumping from a high-altitude hover-train into the monster-infested lower sector. But the nightmare was just beginning. I was hunted by glitching data monsters and cornered by Dameon, a psychotic AI target who choked me and promised to delete me piece by piece. Even when Jayson, an elite system agent, intervened to save me, his partner Ellen held a pulse pistol directly to my chest.
"She's a spy. If you don't execute her right now, I am dissolving this team."
If they found out I was actually a real human from the outside world, their core logic would classify me as a virus and execute me on the spot. I was trapped in an underground bunker with three apex predators, one mistake away from permanent digital erasure.
So, I did the only thing I could to survive. I ripped my sleeve to reveal hideous, fake code-scars, looked up at Jayson with terrified, tear-filled eyes, and began to manipulate their core programming. Unwanted Wife, Unbreakable Spirit
Romance The heavy scent of alcohol was always the first sign. For five years, I' d been a ghost in my own marriage, a stand-in for a woman who vanished.
Then, my husband, Ethan, stumbled in, saw me, and murmured a name that wasn't mine. "Olivia."
His kiss, rough and demanding, tasted of whiskey and a longing not meant for me. I pushed him away. "I'm not Olivia." His brief warmth vanished, replaced by chilling disgust. "Ava," he spat, "It's always you." He shoved me hard, threatening to torment me until his "true love" returned, even forcing birth control to prevent our child.
I finally snapped. I lunged at him, a desperate, self-destructive challenge. "You want to torment me? Then do it. Fulfill your promise." An hour later, I lay bruised, my two decades of love for him turned to bitter ash.
With cold determination, I proposed a deal: I'd find Olivia, and he'd grant me a divorce, severing all ties.
A month later, a flimsy tip led me to a dive bar. There, I heard a voice – Olivia's. And Brenda's. Her mother. "He's still obsessed, Mom. He's been looking for me for five years." Olivia, who had supposedly been mute since childhood, was speaking. Perfectly. They were conning him, planning to claim his fortune. Rage surged through me. I had to warn Ethan.
But when I burst into his office, he slapped me, showing a text from Olivia: "Ethan, help me. Ava has me locked up. I'm scared." He believed her. He dragged me to the bar, where Olivia, now feigning a wheelchair, buried her face in his chest, making him angrier. Another brutal slap. "I'm going to make you pay."
Two men emerged, claiming I had held Olivia captive. "Shut her up," Ethan snarled, picking up a steel pipe. He broke my legs, then tossed the pipe aside, saying, "Crawl back to the mansion. The divorce papers will be waiting for you." I cursed him. I lost consciousness.
I woke to Dr. Liam Miller, my loyal friend. He revealed I was six weeks pregnant. With his child. The irony shattered me. I wanted an abortion, but my injuries made it too dangerous. I made Liam promise to never tell Ethan. He agreed. Stale Beer, Sweet Vengeance
Modern The Rusty Mug was a blur of noise and stale beer tonight.
Game night, loud as ever.
I wiped down the bar, going through the motions, surrounded by the same faces, the same routine.
But the man behind the bar wasn't the same Jake anymore.
A sudden shriek split the air near the back restrooms-a woman' s voice, sharp and furious.
Whispers slithered through the crowd: "A teacher," "caught with another man."
My co-bartender, Mark Olsen, a grin twisting his face, looked directly at me.
With fake concern, he asked, "Hope it's not your Emily. She' s too sweet to be messing around, right?"
He didn't know I knew exactly who it was.
Nor did he know I' d already lived this agonizing chapter.
Last time, Chloe, his fiancée, caught red-handed, had played the victim, begging sympathetic Emily for help.
Kind, trusting Emily, rushed to her side.
Only for Chloe to throw her under the bus, fabricating texts, spinning vicious rumors.
The public shame, the loss of her job, broke Emily.
She killed herself.
Blinded by grief and rage, I confronted Mark, just before he shoved me down the back stairs.
I remembered the sickening crack, and then… nothing.
Until I woke up, months ago, back in this very life, this exact day now approaching.
My Emily, gone forever.
My own life, stolen.
Why? Why had they gone unpunished, while we paid the ultimate price?
This was my impossible second chance.
To save Emily.
To save myself.
And this time, they were going to regret every single unforgivable thing they had ever done. My Wife, My Tormentor
Romance For five years, my wife Seraphina' s 'purity' defined my existence.
My days were a relentless cycle of scrubbing, proving I was 'clean' enough for her.
This pristine, empty marriage felt like a lifelong sentence.
Then, a faint love bite on her collarbone sparked a flicker of doubt, quickly replaced by horror when I overheard her chilling phone call.
My wife wasn' t just cruel; she was auctioning me off.
The 'Ethan Experience' she chirped, chilling me to the bone.
Those excruciating 'cleansings' weren't about her mysophobia; they were about erasing me for her lover, Julian.
My raw, burning skin wasn't from clumsiness, but industrial-strength soaps meant to wipe away any trace of me.
They filmed me, naked, for a pre-auction 'preview,' inviting a crowd of socialites to watch.
My wife, the woman who claimed disgust at my touch, was selling me like property.
The night arrived, and I found myself sedated, stripped, and pushed into a glass room, the auctioneer's voice already booming my 'unveiling.'
How could the woman I vowed to protect turn me into a living spectacle, a commodity of contempt?
The betrayal was a physical ache, the humiliation a crushing weight.
Was this truly my fate, to be auctioned off, utterly broken and shamed?
All for a man who claimed to be 'allergic' to me, a lie she orchestrated for five years.
Just as the curtain began to rise, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the haze.
My godmother, Eleanor Vance, a formidable force, burst in, holding the annulment papers I thought I'd never need.
My escape began not with a fight, but with a signature, as my dignity was finally restored.
That night, I didn't become a spectacle; I became free. Mike's Bet, Sarah's Win
Modern The smell of burnt turkey still hung in the air, but the stench of ruin was far stronger. My husband Mike, the man who worked his hands raw, sat at our kitchen table, his head in his hands. Eighty thousand dollars. Vanished. Emily’s college fund, Mom’s arthritis surgery, next year’s mortgage on our Texas ranch house. Our entire future.
He’d lost it all in a ‘friendly game’ of poker with his old buddy, Jake Riley. Mike was broken, promising double shifts, desperate to make it right. But it was too little, too late.
I knew Jake. A leech, a con artist. Eighty grand in one night? This wasn’t just bad luck; it was a setup. They thought they’d taken my hardworking, trusting husband for a fool. They thought they’d won.
The numbness faded, replaced by cold fury. A faint, almost invisible scar on my left wrist, a ghost from a past I’d buried in the neon glare of Las Vegas, began to throb.
I smashed Emily’s ceramic unicorn, took her meager savings. ‘Get up, Mike,’ my voice cold, hard. ‘We’re going to pay Jake a visit.’ He was terrified. I just smiled, a bitter, dangerous smile. He had no idea who he’d married. And Jake Riley was about to meet the ‘Phantom Hand.’ You might like
Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
Carved From My Body, His Regret
Ive Gutterson My eyes struggled open, but a heavy weight held them shut. I was paralyzed, trapped in a cold hospital room, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor a cruel reminder of my mother's death. I, Elena Vitiello, who controlled everything, was now helpless, reduced to a slab of meat.
Then I heard his footsteps. Dante. My husband, my anchor. But his voice was chillingly devoid of warmth as he ordered, "Do not increase the dosage. I will not risk damaging the organ's viability." The organ. My mind went blank, ice filling my veins.
Trapped and unable to move, I realized Dante saw me only as a "political placeholder," never loving me. He was having my kidney removed, carved from my body like livestock, to save his mistress, Sofia-the woman whose messes I'd cleaned for ten years. His hand, usually my comfort, smeared away my tear with sheer disgust.
The scalpel tore into my flesh, a blinding, white-hot agony. Every tug and pull hollowed me out, stripping away my potential, my love, my future. How could the man I bled for reduce me to a mere object, a spare part for his true love? The sheer insult of it fueled a volcanic rage.
As my kidney was lifted out, the final illusion of our marriage shattered completely. My fear dissolved, replaced by a chilling, absolute calm. The darkness that embraced me was not defeat, but the coiling silence of a viper preparing to strike. This kidney was not a sacrifice. It was the down payment for Dante Moretti's life. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. The Neglected Wife's Ultimate Mafia Comeback
Baxy Koseluk I was the dutiful wife of Julian, a ruthless Capo in the Chicago Syndicate.
Six months ago, my convoy was ambushed by a rival cartel.
While I lay bleeding out on the cold floor of the car, my husband was on the phone with his mistress, Mia.
"Lock your doors, stay inside," he told her, never once asking if I was alive.
I survived, only to watch him flaunt his betrayal.
He brought his mistress into our home, booked her luxury suites in Tokyo, and bought her massive diamonds with Syndicate funds.
When I refused to play the part of his obedient, blind wife, he publicly humiliated me and orchestrated rumors to isolate me.
He thought I was just collateral, a powerless figurehead he could control and eventually discard to settle his debts.
I had endured this loveless marriage to survive in the family, yet he treated me worse than dirt while elevating a mistress who knew nothing of our world.
I was suffocating in a cage of neglect, enraged by the audacity of a coward who broke every sacred vow.
So, I took off my vulgar wedding ring and left it on his bathroom sink.
I picked up my phone and sent a message to Dante Falcone, the exiled heir who had stitched my flesh back together in secret.
This time, I chose to burn my husband's empire to the ground. Pampered By The Rival Syndicate Don
Jing Yue As I lay in the cold underground clinic, terminating the unborn heir of the city's most feared mafia underboss, my phone lit up.
My fiancé of seven years had just publicly pledged his protection and a home-cooked meal to his ex-lover, moments after telling me to risk a deadly ambush by ordering takeout.
When I returned to our penthouse, bleeding and broken, he didn't even notice.
He gave my specialized prenatal milk to his ex because she had a "delicate stomach," leaving me only a hollowed-out egg white and dry crusts.
When I begged him to stay, he violently kicked my packed suitcase across the marble floor.
"Elena's medical needs take priority right now," he snapped, rushing out because his ex felt cold.
He even blocked my secure number when I frantically tried to reach him one last time.
For seven years, we had built an empire together.
I couldn't understand how a past flame playing the fragile doe could make him discard my life and our child's existence so callously, treating me like worthless scraps.
Sitting in the empty penthouse, I wiped my tears and opened the global Syndicate network.
"My betrothal to Vincent is officially dissolved. Act accordingly."
I powered down my phone, grabbed my tactical gear, and boarded a private jet to leave his territory forever. Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil
Gale Kaaya My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement.
To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia.
It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping.
But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished.
She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug.
She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago.
The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash.
Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name.
She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant.
I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead.
I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye.
"Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you."
Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth.
"Prove it," he growled.
I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip. 
/1/119576/coverorgin.jpg?v=6e71f8bf1840983e178b9f7e5c029e62&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/118518/coverorgin.jpg?v=7b2498c09d6985dc34049c117dc4a789&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/117048/coverorgin.jpg?v=da067d892dc9b932fd6e8cfcd606ea08&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116504/coverorgin.jpg?v=6156f406fa49b6ff0338eeb4e4df9529&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/115672/coverorgin.jpg?v=6f0b0e9e56ba414b3bb0f544fc112b33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113995/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1d38b251ebdb271646e23534a2c237c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113788/coverorgin.jpg?v=8cc3c0723d6c4bbcc4ed0ecb625cca23&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86827/coverorgin.jpg?v=5a03194cb2937b6e3ed06af8c27cac42&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83261/coverorgin.jpg?v=e30db038d961759d8b3257c80508f431&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/81425/coverorgin.jpg?v=61c546a9ac4ccb9fb54e71c8aaab19e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/80734/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f05c95a0e30ca2107a231141a5db482&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18625/coverorgin.jpg?v=69f5b1a9c282451dfaac90889ffd8189&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=97365198d2e42e4794a57a69368cfbf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=4deabceeb44e4aed4e042acc3656d345&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114681/coverorgin.jpg?v=afc98375fb3cbaccbdf70eb3483a4feb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114456/coverorgin.jpg?v=fda875dee16879cf8abd69e56fedd57c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd5a88eb49b6856c724b675835423101&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114174/coverorgin.jpg?v=58b43c00acdc183a5fd7255a87763358&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/118856/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ebae4a8d24523e4b34faf973ae8837f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113819/coverorgin.jpg?v=d82a9e32c30dc605d2e5b296243cbfcd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/116914/coverorgin.jpg?v=764bdc91b545e4c360548ce3ddf572ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/109835/coverorgin.jpg?v=b38472847e453f71545b2c32809d59f2&imageMogr2/format/webp)