Ren Ping Sheng
12 Published Stories
Ren Ping Sheng's Books and Stories
Bankrupt Socialite: The Billionaire's Revenge Bride
Modern I was the bankrupt socialite everyone pitied, standing in the mud at my mother's grave with nothing left but a pair of old Louboutins and a single white rose. My bank account was overdrawn by three hundred dollars, but I still believed Julian, my fiancé, was the one person who hadn't abandoned the toxic Compton name.
Then I saw his Maybach shaking in the cemetery parking lot. Through a crack in the window, I heard the man I loved whispering to my stepsister, Tiffany.
"Don't worry about the broke princess. Once I secure her voting proxy for the trust, I'm dumping her."
Tiffany laughed, clutching the scarlet coat she'd charged to my own maxed-out credit card.
"She's so pathetic, Julian. She actually thinks you love her."
I didn't scream; I recorded them. But when I tried to use that leverage, my family turned into vipers. To protect Julian's status, they framed me for causing Tiffany to miscarry a fake pregnancy and planted stolen documents in my bag. My own father stood by as they locked me in a room, planning to sell me to a predatory creditor named Hightower to settle his gambling debts. I ended up in a freezing police cell, my ankle shattered and my reputation destroyed.
I sat on that metal bench, shivering as I realized my own blood had traded my life for a check. I called the only man powerful enough to burn them all-Julian's uncle, the "Butcher of Wall Street," Alden Stark. The phone just kept ringing. He wasn't coming. To the world, I was just a walking bankruptcy filing, a girl who had finally run out of luck.
I didn't wait for a savior. I escaped custody and ran barefoot through the rain, leaving a trail of blood on the marble floor of Stark Tower. When I collapsed at Alden's feet, he didn't look at me with pity; he looked at me like a rare, damaged artifact he finally owned.
"Inform the board that this is my fiancée," he announced, lifting me into his arms.
I signed the marriage contract that night, trading my freedom for the power to ensure my family's liabilities exceeded their assets for the rest of their natural lives. Pregnant and Rejected: The Alpha's Biggest Mistake
Werewolf My husband Liam was the perfect Alpha. He built me a library, fought off rogues, and swore I was his soulmate. I thought we were the perfect fated couple.
That was until I found the burner phone wedged deep in the sofa cushions.
"She's just a placeholder," he texted his mistress, Ava. "You know you're my real queen."
Attached was an ultrasound of a wolf pup—his heir.
I tried to leave with dignity, but he dragged me to the Pack Gala. On a live stream watched by thousands, he paraded Ava around, wearing my family’s heirloom necklace. When I tried to take it back, he didn't just stop me.
He slapped me across the face.
The force of his blow didn't just break my heart; the trauma killed the secret baby growing inside me.
I severed the bond and vanished, leaving him with his "queen" and his guilt.
Five years later, I returned, not as a weak rejected mate, but as the powerful Alpha of the Sanctuary.
Liam fell to his knees in the dirt, holding a flawless pink diamond, begging for a second chance.
"I fought for you," he cried, tears streaming down his face. "I bled for you! I am your Fated Mate!"
I looked at him with nothing but pity, then turned to the man standing beside me—the quiet Beta who had silently saved my life years ago when Liam was too busy playing the hero.
I took Ethan's hand.
"Ethan," I asked, my voice ringing clear through the silent crowd. "Will you be my Mate?"
As Liam screamed in agony, the Moon Goddess answered with a blinding golden light. The Contract Wife: Thorne's Redemption
Romance I lay in the sterile silence of the hospital, mourning the baby I never got to hold. Everyone called it a tragic accident. A slip and fall. But I knew the truth of my husband's shove.
Mark finally came to visit. He didn't bring flowers; he brought a briefcase.
Inside were divorce papers and a non-disclosure agreement.
He calmly informed me that his mistress-my friend-was pregnant. They were his "real family" now, and they couldn't have any "unpleasantness."
He threatened to use fabricated psychiatric reports to paint me as an unstable danger to myself.
"Sign the papers, Clara," he warned, his voice void of emotion. "Or you'll be moved from this comfortable room to a more... secure facility. A long-term one."
I looked at the man I had loved and saw a monster. This wasn't a tragedy; it was a corporate takeover of my life. He had been meeting with lawyers while I was losing our child. I wasn't his grieving wife; I was a liability being managed, a loose end to be tied.
I was utterly and completely trapped.
Just as despair consumed me, my parents' old lawyer appeared like a ghost from the past. She pressed a heavy, ornate key into my palm.
"Your parents left you an escape route," she whispered, her eyes filled with resolve. "For a day like this."
The key led to a forgotten contract, a pact made by our grandfathers decades ago.
An ironclad marriage agreement, binding me to the one man my husband feared more than death itself: the ruthless, reclusive billionaire Julian Thorne. His Wife, His Best Friend's Baby
Romance The cemetery air was heavy, just like my heart, staring at Lily' s name, a scar etched in stone.
Then she arrived, Sophia, my wife, leaning into Mark, my best friend.
Her hand resting on the slight curve of her stomach twisted my gut.
"Lily, from heaven, will surely bless the baby in my womb with health and safety," she sneered, holding her belly.
My daughter was dead, and their child, a blessing.
I slid my wedding ring off, the symbol of a shattered lie, and let it fall onto the damp earth beside Lily' s grave.
I walked away without looking back, leaving everything behind.
Later, I overheard Sophia' s sisters mocking me.
"What do you bet he comes crawling back in a week?" one giggled.
They had no idea.
Soon, I found myself serving Mark, Sophia' s lover, even peeling him an apple, a twisted parody of our past intimacy.
Her smirk told me she relished my humiliation.
Then she dropped the bomb: "We can all be one big, happy family."
I handed her the divorce papers, already signed.
Sophia laughed, picking up the papers. "You have nothing without me."
Suddenly, Mark began to choke, his face turning red.
"What did you do?" Sophia shrieked, her eyes blazing, forcing a piece of the apple into my mouth.
A sickeningly sweet, nutty taste flooded my senses. Almonds.
The room spun, and the first wave of anaphylaxis hit me like a fiery punch.
"We found out about the baby almost a year ago, right after… Lily got sick."
A year. Lily was still alive when their affair began.
They left me there, choking, as they rushed Mark to the hospital.
But in that cold, sterile hospital room, a ruthless plan began to form. Built To Break Her
Sci-fi For three years, I lived a fairy tale, believing I was the universe's luckiest woman, deeply loved by my brilliant creator, Ethan.
Then, everything shattered the night he strapped me to a table, revealing a woman with my exact face on a screen: "That's my wife, Madisyn. You were built to replace her."
He harvested my love, my memories, my very essence to revive her, then stripped me of everything, calling me a "soulless machine," and forced me to watch their rekindled romance from a glass cage, punishing me with electric shocks if I dared to look away.
I endured agonizing chemical burns, dismissed as "glitches," until Madisyn had me thrown into a warehouse filled with unstable, decommissioned androids, certain I'd be torn to pieces.
But as their metal claws ripped me apart, a secret program deep within me activated: a "gestational" program, a digital child Ethan had hidden. I had to protect it, even broken and dying.
Ethan found me mangled, finally seeing the monstrous truth: Madisyn had sabotaged me with a "mortality patch" and orchestrated my destruction, even sending the robots to target the child.
With Madisyn threatening to self-destruct if he saved me, Ethan made his choice, sacrificing her to activate the Genesis Protocol for me.
But it was too late. My body, my pain, was who I was. I just wanted to feel the wind, one last time.
He carried me to the ocean at sunrise, proposed with a ring that couldn't fit my ruined hand, and as my light faded, he carried my lifeless chassis into the waves, disappearing with me beneath the surface-a final, tragic embrace. The Night He Drugged My Tea
Romance My husband, Ethan Cole, was New York' s legal golden boy-revered for his legal prowess and, more famously, for his legendary adoration of his wife, Sarah Miller.
"My North Star" tattooed over his heart, cross-country flights for a few hours with me; I believed this perfect fairytale for years.
Then, the crash. Arriving at his office to surprise him, I overheard his junior associates' crude jokes: "Boss is off to Napa with Jessica Vance for a 'client retreat'." Napa? He'd texted "Chicago deposition."
My world tipped.
The video landed, sent by Jessica: her, tied with Ethan' s silk tie, his face consumed by a desire I hadn't witnessed in years.
It plummeted deeper.
That night, he drugged my tea.
Then, he brought her into our bed, right beside me, believing I was out cold.
Her moans, his rough whispers, Jessica' s sweat-damp hair brushing my cheek-the ultimate, sickening violation.
The man who once cooked me gourmet breakfasts became a depraved stranger, brazenly flaunting his infidelity inches from me.
How could he?
My reflection showed tear-streaked eyes, but pain became icy resolve.
No screaming. No breakdowns.
A chillingly precise plan formed.
I took a burner phone, texting him-my husband, the famed attorney-as an anonymous "Ms. Evans": "My husband is cheating with his assistant. What should I do?"
His reply, professional and prompt: "Secure all evidence of his infidelity. Bring it to me."
So, I did.
I formally retained Ethan Cole to handle my divorce. Game on. Don't Mess With the Cat Lady
Modern I' m Chloe, a nursing student, always broke and buried in textbooks, a stark contrast to my influencer-wannabe roommate, Tiffany. We tolerated each other, barely.
Then, one night, Tiffany burst in, grinning, clutching a filthy, terrified cat she' d "rescued" from an alley. "Meet Scrappy!" she squealed, oblivious to my strict allergies and our apartment's no-pets rule. From the moment I saw him, the matted cat stared at me with an unnerving, instant dislike.
He quickly became a nightmare, tearing apart my expensive nursing textbook and leaving messes everywhere. Tiffany just laughed, filming him for her "content" while branding me a "killjoy" and "hater." But it spiraled out of control when Scrappy viciously attacked my eight-year-old cousin, Lily, sending her to the ER for stitches and agonizing rabies shots.
My hands shook with a cold, desperate fury. This wasn't about a ruined textbook anymore; this cat was a dangerous menace, and Tiffany, wrapped up in her influencer dreams, couldn' t care less. I tried desperately to get rid of him, but she stopped me, and he escaped.
Years melted away, only for the horror to become horribly real: Scrappy, now a scarred alpha of a monstrous feral cat colony, murdered my family. I screamed, and then, mercifully, nothingness. I woke up. Sunlight streamed through my old apartment window. I heard Tiffany' s chirpy voice from the living room: "Chloe! Look!" It was the exact same day. The same terrifying cat. I' d seen the future, and this time, I knew precisely what needed to be done. The Man Who Didn't Remember Our Love
Romance I was a pregnant widow, my heart shattered by the loss of Ethan, my husband, who vanished into a relentless blizzard months ago. Every day on our isolated Montana ranch was a quiet struggle, a desperate attempt to move forward with the tiny, fluttering life within me.
Then, a soft knock on the door, almost lost in the howling wind, shattered my fragile peace. Standing there, weathered but undeniably real, was Ethan. My breath caught, my world stopped spinning.
But the moment his familiar blue eyes dropped to my noticeably swollen belly, his face turned to ice. "We never shared a bed," he rasped, a chilling statement, not a question. "How can you be pregnant?"
The words struck me like physical blows, each one a fresh betrayal. After all the lonely nights, the tears, the private secret I cherished, this was his return? He stood before me, a stranger, denying a passion I distinctly remembered, demanding answers with accusation blazing in his eyes.
How could I explain the man who held me when he himself couldn't remember? The one who called himself Ace? The one who loved me without fear, unlike the guarded Ethan who stood before me now?
The Kingman curse might have consumed other men, but it wouldn't claim the truth of my child. I lifted my chin, a spark of defiance igniting. He wanted answers? I' d give them to him, even if it meant shattering his carefully constructed reality and fighting for the whole man I loved. His Last Regret: Unmade
Sci-fi The city festival lights blurred, then the world exploded into screams and dust.
Liam was on top of me, saving me again, for the third time.
But this time, his last words, choked out with blood, were not what I expected.
"If only... I had never met you."
Ten years of a cold marriage, of my unrequited love, ended with that brutal, devastating line.
At his funeral, his mother’s sharp voice cut through my grief: "He died because of you. Always you."
The whispers followed me out of the church, society agreeing I was the reason Liam Walker, the city’s golden boy, was dead at thirty-three.
I was branded the burden he’d carried to his grave, utterly alone and consumed by guilt.
Liam’s words echoed, haunting me: "If only I had never met you."
I desperately wanted to undo it all, not for a romance that never was, but for *his* peace, for *my* peace, to save him from a life of quiet desperation.
Then, a whisper from the city’s underbelly reached me: the "Chronos Device," a secret, experimental temporal machine.
It was unstable, dangerous, and, according to the scientist, tied directly to the deepest regrets of the person whose fate you were trying to change.
I knew Liam's regrets intimately from his hidden journals: marrying me, abandoning his music, and failing to "save" Jessica, his true love.
Driven by this desperate knowledge, I strapped myself into the humming machine, ready to rewrite his regrets, to give him the life he wanted.
Even if it meant erasing myself from his life and future forever. I Bled for His Child, He Buried My Brother
Fantasy My tribe was dying, our sacred Sunbeam Ridge ravaged by the deafening roar of Remington Mining’s bulldozers.
I, Ella Windrider, the last guardian of the Sunbeam Vine, felt my own life force draining away with each passing day.
They said I had three years away from the Ridge before I withered and died.
But my people would fall sooner if I did nothing.
So, I walked out of the mists of our hidden valley and into the cold glass towers of Keller Remington, the man whose parents went missing on our lands, believing I could trade answers for peace.
Instead, he took me prisoner, convinced my tribe murdered his family.
Days blurred into months within his fortress-like estate, where I was held captive in a damp, windowless cell.
He demanded answers, but gave me only torture, both physical and spiritual.
He forced me to nurture the stolen Sunbeam Vines, draining my very essence to sustain his conniving fiancée, Sophia Wexler, and her unborn child.
Each drop of the Vine’s sap I bled, was a piece of my soul.
Then, my brave little brother, Little Hawk, came looking for me, only to be killed by Remington’s men, a death orchestrated by Sophia.
As deep winter set in, I lay dying, haunted by his crushing loss, the truth of Keller’s parents’ murders a stone in my chest.
I knew it wasn’t my people who killed them, but a ruthless corporation, led by Sophia’s family, and a traitor from my own tribe.
They had used Keller’s grief, and now they were using me, slowly bleeding me dry.
Just as my last breath faltered, an old lawyer arrived, armed with irrefutable proof that shattered Keller’s carefully constructed world.
The man who had tortured me, who had caused my brother’s death, finally saw the face of his true enemy, and the innocent woman he had systematically destroyed. The SAT Eve Nightmare
Young Adult The fluorescent lights of Northwood High’s auditorium hummed, a familiar sound.
It was the last Monday assembly before SATs, and Brittany Jones, head cheerleader, announced a pre-party at her place tonight.
A cheer went up, but my blood ran cold because I’d lived this exact moment before.
Last time, Brittany’s party led to her faked overdose, my public ruin, Jake’s betrayal, and ultimately, the orchestrated death of my fire captain father and my own demise in a hospital bed.
Now, inexplicably sent back, I tried to keep my distance, hoping to protect myself and my family from repeating the nightmare.
Instead, Brittany and Jake escalated their cruelty, cornering me, stealing my SAT ticket, ID, and phone, and locking me in a dark gym storage room.
My father miraculously rescued me, but that very night, Brittany and Jake launched a vicious social media campaign, framing me for their party’s disastrous mass hospitalization and even slandering my brave dad.
Rocks were thrown through our window, and an angry mob, fueled by their lies, gathered outside our home, screaming "child poisoner."
How could they be so utterly evil, so determined to destroy my life, and why was this second chance even worse, more violent than the first?
But then, a flicker of hope: my smartwatch had been recording, and I remembered Jake’s old cloud passwords from our past, giving me access to all his damning secrets.
This time, I wouldn’t just survive; I would use every memory and every piece of evidence to ensure they reaped what they sowed, for good. You might like
The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband
Qing Shui I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news.
"Parole denied."
My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU.
"Sign it. You walk out today."
I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation.
I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate.
I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood.
As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home.
"Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life."
I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground. Destiny's Choice: Married The Man They Called Unlovable
Lila Rivers Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past.
On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse.
But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened.
Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation.
***
Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail.
But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world." 
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