Shi Yue
7 Published Stories
Shi Yue's Books and Stories
His Robot Love, Her Broken Heart
Sci-fi For five years, New York society envied me, Ava Riley, the perfectly devoted wife to tech titan Liam Carter.
Though legally blind, I felt his love in every touch, every whispered word, convinced I was the luckiest woman alive.
But one night, a searing pain shot through my head, a shocking kaleidoscope of color exploded behind my eyelids, and then-I could see.
My vision, blurry but real, focused on the bed.
It wasn't Liam on top of me.
It was a faceless, flawless robot, moving with the practiced intimacy I believed belonged to my husband.
Then I saw Liam across the room, wrapped around a perfect, lifelike doll-his adopted sister, Sophia.
Every intimate moment of our five-year marriage, every cherished touch, had been a vile, mechanical lie.
The truth crashed down: I was just a blind prop in his twisted obsession, a placeholder for the woman he truly desired.
When I confronted this horrifying reality, Sophia pushed me down the stairs, and I lost our baby.
But Liam' s concern wasn't for me.
He protected Sophia, dismissing my pain, our child, and even me, as collateral damage, painting me as an "emotionally unstable liar" to cover their tracks.
How could the man I loved betray me so utterly?
How could my own sacrifice have led to such a depraved deception?
My heart didn't just break; it became a cold, hard stone of disbelief and fury.
Lying in that hospital bed, rage burning through my soul, I ripped up Liam' s seven-figure "hush money" check, looked Sophia directly in her astonished eyes, and declared, "I' m divorcing him. And I' m not going quietly. I' m going to take everything." The Blind Wife Who Saw Everything
Romance I sacrificed everything for Michael Thorne, the ambitious man I loved and believed in.
My promising career, built on integrity, crumbled when I took the fall for his unethical land deal, my name tarnished, my reputation destroyed.
The immense stress manifested as psychosomatic blindness, transforming my vibrant world into an indistinct haze, making me completely dependent on him.
He vowed to be my eyes, a low murmur of reassurance, his control a heavy cloak I mistook for devotion, as he built his real estate empire on the ruins of my life.
For years, I was a captive in our luxurious city apartment, a gilded cage arranged for my impaired convenience, subtly controlled by the man who claimed to protect me.
But then, a miracle: my vision, slowly, painstakingly, began to return, a fragile hope I nurtured in secret.
Eager to surprise him, I cut my therapy retreat short, only to silently unlock our door and find him in bed with his conniving junior associate, Tiffany.
My newly restored sight, cruelly perfect, illuminated the stark, undeniable intimacy, a betrayal that stole my breath and shattered my soul.
The man who vowed to be my eyes, the one I had given everything for, had been reveling in my dependence, enjoying the power of my blindness as he carried on his affair right under my nose.
The shock morphed into a cold, unwavering resolve; my heart, once broken, hardened into stone.
I would pretend I was still blind, still naive, enduring their thinly veiled cruelty and arrogant entitlement.
But as I stumbled, feigning helplessness, I would meticulously gather every piece of damning evidence.
I swore to reclaim my life, my heritage, and my true self, leaving him to face the very ruin he built for me.
He thought he had absolute power over his blind, docile wife, but he was about to discover what a woman with nothing left to lose, and everything to see, could truly do. Thirty-Six Hours To Save Her
Fantasy I woke up to a familiar, cheap motel ceiling.
Today was the day Chloe and I were supposed to elope.
But this wasn' t just any morning.
I'd lived this day before.
Ten years ago, on this exact date, Chloe died saving me in a fatal car crash.
Now, I'm back, haunted by a chilling ultimatum: "Thirty-six hours. Three deepest regrets. Fix them, or she stays dead."
The weight of a future where Chloe was miserable, her dreams crushed, hangs heavy.
I watch her vibrant, younger self, unaware of the gilded cage her life will become.
Her dismissive words cut, knowing the simmering unhappiness beneath them.
She' s walking blindly into a future controlled by her parents and a manipulative lover.
How can I save her from a fate she doesn't know exists?
How do I dismantle her family' s plans and expose the man she thinks she loves, without destroying her trust?
My undying love for her, once a quiet ache, is now an impossible race against a ticking clock.
Can I truly rewrite her destiny and allow her to become the person she was meant to be?
Armed with foreknowledge and a broken heart, I embark on a desperate pilgrimage of selfless acts.
I'm not trying to win her love. I'm fighting to set her free, even if it costs me everything. No Sweet Sixteen Only Bitter Betrayal
Young Adult My Sweet Sixteen was supposed to be a dream.
I was Scarlett, a golden child, engaged to my childhood sweetheart Julian, and protected by my powerful brother Ethan.
Our lives were perfectly aligned, part of an influential dynasty.
But then, a science experiment gone wrong left me disfigured and screaming.
The intern, Brianna, who caused it, seemed to vanish, destined for jail.
My brother and fiancé swore revenge, their initial protectiveness a comforting blanket.
Yet, strange, mocking voices whispered in my head: "They're impressed by her. They'll fall for her. Hard."
Soon, Brianna was "sick," and Ethan and Julian abandoned my hospital bedside to rush to hers.
My calls went to voicemail, my care diminished, and then I was framed for attacking her.
Julian dissolved our engagement, calling me unstable.
I was banished to a forgotten wing, then a rundown halfway house, forced into grueling labor.
The lowest point came when they held me under icy water, demanding an apology for a crime I didn't commit.
Why abandon me, their Scarlett, for this woman who ruined my life?
Was I just an inconvenience, a damaged relic of a past they wanted to forget?
The voices in my head revealed the shocking truth: "It was a diversion. You were a pawn. Everything – your suffering – was a strategic move."
My pain wasn't about love or betrayal; it was a cold, calculated sacrifice for power.
With this sickening clarity, I refused their hollow apologies and offers to "restore" my life.
I walked away from their gilded cage, leaving my old self and their lies behind.
Now, free from their toxic influence, I begin a new chapter, far from the corrupt city, ready to redefine my own destiny. The Sister Who Stabbed, The Heir Who Fell
Billionaires The lawyer’s pen clicked, signaling the finality of my parents' second divorce, but for me, Emilia, it was just the eerie echo of a past life that had ended with my younger sister, Sophia, stabbing me seven times, and a brutal existence under the ruthless Isabella Vanderbilt.
This time, I had to escape Isabella's grasp, so I deliberately plunged down the stairs, disfiguring myself, knowing Isabella would never accept "damaged goods" as an heir.
My father, Richard, confirmed my desperate gamble: "Isabella will never accept damaged goods!"
I stayed with my kind mother, Linda, and we built a new, humble life away from that toxic world.
But then Sophia, now a condescending teenager, reappeared, flaunting her new life with Isabella, subtly reminding me of my "missed potential."
The façade of peace shattered when Sophia sent literal thugs to abduct me, twisting my mother’s arm and breaking it right before my eyes.
My mom, Linda, screamed in agony, her broken arm a visceral pain that ripped through me.
As I was dragged into a black SUV, the metallic taste of terror filled my mouth, utterly desperate and confused.
Why would my own sister go so far, inflicting such harm on our own mother?
Amidst the chaos, hidden from Sophia’s triumphant gaze, I fumbled for my emergency phone.
I dialed a number I had only memorized in secret, a last resort: the private line of my estranged grandmother, Eleanor Ainsworth, a name that commanded respect even in the darkest corners of New York society.
This time, everything would be different. You might like
His Betrayal, Her Fiery Rebirth
Catherine The air still reeked of scorched metal and something sickly sweet, even as I stood on the gantry, watching the heat waves rise from the test pit below. My husband, Liam, stood beside me, his face impassive as he held out a pen.
"Sign the papers, Ava," he demanded, his voice flat.
Suspended beneath us, held by a massive industrial claw, were my parents-pale, terrified, and renowned NASA scientists. Liam' s new mistress, Scarlett, was pregnant, and he needed a "real home" for his new family.
I had laughed, a raw, broken sound, when he told me, then confronted him, only for him to offer divorce papers and a blank check.
"Take it. It' s more than you deserve," he' d said.
My refusal led to broken legs, a vicious smear campaign, and then, he took my parents.
Now, he offered the pen again: "Sign. Or they' re gone."
My parents' eyes screamed, though their mouths were taped. My father shook his head, a desperate plea for me not to comply.
But I couldn' t let them die. My own life was already over.
"I' ll sign," I whispered, tasting ash. "Just let them go."
Liam nodded to the operator, but the claw didn' t rise. It opened.
My parents fell, their screams swallowed by an inferno. The stench of burning flesh hit me, and I vomited.
Liam watched, his eyes empty.
The world dissolved into grief and fire. There was nothing left. I turned, and with a final look at the man I once loved, I threw myself into the flames.
And then I woke up.
My legs were whole. The date on my phone was yesterday. It wasn' t a dream. It was a second chance. Reclaiming My Life, Redefining Love
Blake Jewell I opened my eyes to a sterile hospital room after three years in a coma, a miracle, Dr. Reed called me. My memory, a slow agonizing puzzle, was finally whole. I remembered everything.
The first person I saw wasn' t my fiancé, Mark. It was my old professor, Dr. Reed, holding my hand, her face a mix of relief and concern.
Mark Harrison was waiting at the entrance of our house, looking older, his face etched with ambition, not grief. He didn' t rush to hug me, didn' t even smile.
"Ava," he said, his voice flat. "You're back."
Then she emerged: Chloe Davis, my old rival, now standing on my doorstep with a triumphant smile, her arm wrapped around Mark' s. On her wrist, my patented smartwatch gleamed.
"Chloe has been a rock for me," Mark announced, looking at her with practiced adoration. "We're engaged."
A month after my car crash – a supposed accident – he was engaged. A month after that, her company acquired a crucial patent from my firm.
From inside, Spark, my AI companion, spoke. Its warm, inquisitive voice now clipped, devoted to Chloe. My home, stripped of my art, my books, everything that was me.
"Chloe has taken over the company and our lives," Mark snarled, his patience gone. "You'll just have to accept it." He expected tears, but I felt only relief.
The fog was gone. I saw him for what he was.
"Okay," I said, my voice calm and even. "I accept it."
He stared, confused. I was not the woman he thought he had destroyed. My purpose here wasn't to reclaim a lost love, but my life's work.
Then came the child' s wail. Chloe rushed out, blaming my "legacy systems" for a scratch on a boy named Alex.
"It wasn't a malfunction," I stated, pointing to the error log. "The command came from your smartwatch, Chloe. You probably held Alex's arm just a little too close to it."
Her face went pale, then contorted with manufactured fear for Mark' s benefit.
"You are unbelievable," Mark spat, blocking my path. "Something you could never give me."
"I want access to Spark," I demanded. "I am the creator."
"You have no rights!" he yelled. "Spark is not your company's property, Mark," I replied, my voice dangerously low. "Spark is mine."
He knew that wasn' t an empty threat. He knew what I was capable of. His Last Regret: Unmade
Ren Ping Sheng 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. The Last Call: From Star to Scapegoat
Zhi Yao My life was a blueprint for success.
Ethan Miller, a rising star in architecture, about to claim the American Horizon Architectural Prize, surrounded by my loving sister Ashley, my beautiful fiancée Victoria, and even my adopted brother Jason.
But one call, one dark warehouse, shattered it all.
Ambushed, my hands crushed, my career obliterated, I woke to a nightmare.
My own sister and fiancée, the women I trusted most, confessed to orchestrating the brutal attack to clear the path for Jason’s success.
They abandoned me in an earthquake, then left me for dead on an exploding yacht, all while publicly slandering my name to cover their tracks.
The betrayal was a pain far deeper than any broken bone, a horrifying injustice that twisted my soul.
Why them? Why Jason? Why this absolute destruction of my life?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, a mysterious offer emerged: "reforging" through Phoenix BioGenesis.
I accepted, not for healing, but for a chilling rebirth, returning as a ghost of my former self, a silent observer ready to meticulously dismantle the lives of those who thought they had won.
This time, the masterpiece would be my revenge. Betrayal's Echo: A Wife's Revenge
Huang Xiaohuai Dr. Evelyn Reed had finally done it.
Three years of relentless work, the neural interface cure for her paralyzed husband, Ethan, was a success.
A triumphant smile touched her lips as she reached for her phone to share the life-changing news.
But an email caught her eye, a cheerful invitation that turned her world to ice.
"Dr. Ethan Vance and Miss Tiffany Reed request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage."
Ethan. Her husband. Tiffany. Her own niece.
It was a sick joke, a complete error, yet the high-end Parisian wedding agency confirmed its legitimacy.
Her joy evaporated, replaced by a cold dread as she drove through the night, a ghost to a celebration she was never meant to see.
She saw him there, standing, whole, laughing, with Tiffany tucked into his arm, radiant in white.
He kissed her, a tender kiss meant for the world to see, and Evelyn' s world tilted off its axis.
Then she heard them talking, overheard their cruel confessions: he had always loved Tiffany, while Evelyn was merely "a necessary step," "a convenient solution."
The man she had sacrificed everything for, the man who had promised his undying love, had been betraying her for two years with her own blood.
The pain of betrayal, the hollowness of her sacrifice, the absolute injustice of it all, left her hollowed out, empty of tears.
She watched him walk away from her in the hospital, choosing Tiffany, right after a fire, right after she found out a bomb, orchestrated by Tiffany, nearly killed her.
This wasn't a love triangle; it was a war, and she was losing.
Driven by a quiet, ice-cold resolve, Evelyn began to fight back. Stolen Code, Broken Heart, Fierce Comeback
Gu Mumu The flickering TV in my dingy motel room was the only light, illuminating the peeling wallpaper.
On screen, Ethan Vance, my ex-fiancé, smiled his perfect, camera-ready smile, touting 'EvolveAI' and his "future-defining" Prometheus algorithm.
Reporters swarmed him; he was the king of Silicon Valley, the brilliant mind behind the world' s most advanced AI.
My world. My code. My future. He had stolen it all. Everything.
I remembered the day he left, his eyes cold and empty, my three years of coding on a hard drive in his bag, a venomous "You were always just… holding me back."
He didn't just take the code; he took my savings, my reputation, blacklisting me from an industry I helped build, all while Bethany Cole, my best friend, stood arm-in-arm with him, eyes gleaming with triumph.
They left me with nothing but eviction notices, forcing me to sell everything I owned, living as a ghost under pseudonyms, cleaning up security flaws for companies that would never hire Scarlett Hayes.
The pain of that betrayal was a constant, suffocating darkness, a deep pit I couldn' t climb out of, trapped by unseen enemies and their whispers of my failure.
But watching him on that screen, basking in my stolen glory, a cold, sharp rage began to burn through the despair.
In that cheap motel, I swore a vow: I would get justice, I would take back what was mine, and he would not build his empire on my ruins.
My chance came weeks later: a vulnerability in his IPO network led me to a familiar digital signature-a back door I'd built into 'Prometheus,' a failsafe only I knew. He was arrogant, so certain he' d erased me he never looked for the ghost I' d left behind.
He was on the verge of becoming a billionaire. And I had the key to his kingdom.
A slow smile spread across my face. The game wasn't over. It had just begun. I wasn't going to be a victim. I was the storm he never saw coming. I would let him climb to the peak of his triumph. And then, I would burn it all to the ground. Lost Time, Found Love: Ava’s Return
Rum Runner The first thing I felt was the slow, steady beep of a machine.
I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling, definitely not my bedroom.
A nurse rushed in, dropping her clipboard, whispering, "She' s awake!"
Then a doctor: "Mrs. Hayes? Ava? Can you tell me your name?"
"Ava Reed... Ava Hayes."
"And the year?"
"2023. It' s October."
Their pitying looks made my skin crawl. "Ava," the doctor said gently, "It' s not 2023."
He pointed to a digital screen: July 12, 2038.
Fifteen years. Gone. Just like that.
The car crash that felt like yesterday had apparently happened a decade and a half ago.
My Lily, my four-year-old daughter, would be nineteen.
My husband, Ethan…
I called him, desperate, finding his contact on a sleek, alien device.
A voice answered, but it wasn' t his. It was cold, hollow.
"Who is this?"
"Ethan? It' s me. It' s Ava."
Then, a harsh, bitter laugh. "My wife is dead. She died fifteen years ago. Don' t you dare use her name again."
He was about to hang up.
"The scar!" I screamed, "Under your left rib, from Miller' s Peak! And Lily… she called her bear 'Sir Reginald Fluffen-Bottom' !"
Silence on the line. Then a whisper: "How… how do you know that?"
Who was this stranger on the phone? What had happened to my life, my family?
I was Ava Reed, a woman robbed of fifteen years.
"Because I am your wife, you idiot. Oceanville General, Room 304. Ten minutes."
I hung up, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach.
Ethan never showed. Instead, a slick lawyer offered me a hotel, a car, a credit card.
I took the car.
My daughter. Lily. 
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