Xu Shinian

Xu Shinian's Books and Stories

Fatal Affection, Bitter End

Modern

5.0

The rain hammered against the school bus windows, mimicking the frantic beat of my heart. My estranged wife, Susan, was screaming, trying to drag our brilliant daughter, Emily, off the bus and into the deluge, all for Mark Johnson, a man in his forties who had failed the college entrance exam for twenty years straight. This was his "lucky year," Susan shrieked. A cold dread washed over me; this had happened before. In a life I no longer lived, my hesitation had allowed Susan to pull Emily off the bus, costing Emily her future. Mark, predictably, failed again and then jumped from a bridge. A year later, Susan had poisoned me at Emily' s graduation party, cursing, "You ruined him! You stole his destiny!" I saw the memory, not as a dream, but as a prophecy. There would be no hesitation this time. I grabbed Susan' s arm, my grip like iron, pulling her away from Emily. "You are not ruining our daughter' s life," I bit out. Enraged, Susan slapped Emily across the face, silencing the bus. Just as parental anger was about to explode, the bus driver' s radio crackled: "Route 7 bridge compromised… route to exam center blocked. Indefinitely." Panic erupted, but Susan, oblivious, declared to Mark, "It' s destiny! The universe is making way for you!" The bus became a pressure cooker. Insults turned to shoves. Mark and Susan were caught in a pathetic brawl in the pouring rain. After checking on Emily, I calmly called the Mayor' s office. "This is Professor David Miller," I stated, "Your office has confirmed emergency transport. Helicopters. To airlift the students from your location to the exam center." Hope surged through the bus. "Of course, that' s just for the students on the school' s official roster," I added, low enough for just a few to hear. "Any private applicant, like him, would have to arrange payment for a private charter. Astronomically expensive." The helicopters arrived. Susan, attempting to push Mark to the front, was informed of the $200,000 emergency fee for private applicants. Her jaw dropped. Mark, realizing his entire savings were about that much, asked for his card. Susan stammered, "I used it... I bought you this lucky jade pendant! It cost $300,000!" Just then, a jeweler observed, "That looks like a fake... worth maybe $200." "You idiot!" Mark screamed, grabbing Susan. "You spent my life savings on a piece of glass?" A police officer moved in. Susan, hysterical, begged me for a loan. I offered a loan agreement: $200,000 at 20% daily compounded interest, her house as collateral, due in 30 days. With the last helicopter preparing to lift off, she signed. Mark scrambled on board. Minutes later, a new announcement: "Floodwaters at Route 7 bridge have receded faster than expected. Road reopened. Ground transport can now proceed." Susan, standing alone in the rain, crumpled. She had signed away her future for a now-unnecessary twenty-minute helicopter ride. This was only the beginning.

My Life, Her Vengeance

Horror

5.0

On my deathbed, gasping for air, my wife Olivia and our son stood over me, reeking of cold fury and gasoline. "Our son was conceived with Alex' s sperm," Olivia whispered, a venomous hiss. My son poured gasoline over me as she smiled, "You spent your entire life raising a child for the man I loved!" The first flame brought searing agony; my world exploded into fire. I screamed, the sound swallowed by the inferno. Then I opened my eyes. The smell of gasoline was gone, replaced by roses. I was young, strong, in a tuxedo. This was my wedding night, thirty years earlier. The door burst open; Olivia, pale and panicked, clutched her phone. "Alex sent me a message," she stammered. "He' s at the cliff. He' s going to jump." Her father, Mr. Miller, sternly forbade her from leaving. "If you don' t complete this wedding today, the Miller family will disown you!" Olivia looked at me, her eyes filled with venomous hatred. She slapped me, a sharp sting. In my first life, I had begged her to stay, dedicating thirty years to her and her family, building their empire, raising her son-Alex' s son-only to be burned alive for my devotion. The betrayal was a fresh wound, a guiding light. This time, I would not be a fool. I looked at Olivia, her face twisted with fear and hatred, and made a decision.

A Marriage Never Meant To Be

Romance

5.0

My engagement to Ethan Hayes was suffocating, bound by a grim family rule: no breaking up, only widowed. My brother' s dying wish had sealed my fate with a man who no longer loved me. He loved Chloe Davis. The definitive moment arrived when my brother's watch, my most prized possession, was shattered by Chloe Davis. Worse, Ethan, my fiancé, sided with her, dismissing my grief and the watch's immense sentimental value. Instead of comfort, I received an onslaught. His mother lectured me, and Ethan himself dismissed the broken watch as "silly" and "worn out," offering an "upgrade" like my brother's last gift was a trivial inconvenience. Then, Chloe returned with Ethan, feigning an apology, only to deliberately destroy the watch further, crushing the delicate mechanism. With each calculated move, they chipped away at my identity. His friends joined in, accusing me of cruelty, while Ethan, oblivious or uncaring, simply saw me as "dramatic" and "making a mess," even as I lay bleeding on the floor of my own apartment. He was more concerned about being late for a dinner reservation with Chloe than about my pain. Why was I continually subjected to this emotional torture? Why did he let her weaponize my dead brother's memory? The answer finally became painfully clear: I was a problem to be managed, not a partner. So, I picked myself up, cleaned the blood, and calmly put an escape plan into motion. His compliance was no longer about weakness-it was my camouflage.

His Reckoning, Her Reign

Romance

5.0

The heavy oak door of San Francisco City Hall felt cold under my fingers. I was waiting for Ethan. We were supposed to get our marriage license today. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: "Running late. Emergency at the hospital." Typical. Dr. Ethan Miller, the respected neurosurgeon, always had an emergency. But then, a new post from Chloe Davis, his research assistant, popped up. A photo: her, in our master suite, Ethan's arm around her. Another: a sonogram, tiny and gray, with a heart emoji. The caption read: "Future Dr. Miller coming soon! #blessed #surprise." My breath caught. Our master suite. The one I decorated. He didn't just abandon me at City Hall. He moved her into our home. My phone vibrated again. A long message from Ethan: "Ava, I can explain. It was a mistake... She's young, her research career is just starting... You've always wanted kids, right? She can go abroad... You can raise it. It'll be our baby." Rage, cold and sharp, flooded me. He wanted me to raise his mistress's child. I, Ava Chen, Investment Director at Chen Corp, from a family that built a tech and real estate empire in this city, was no fool. I dialed a number I knew by heart. Liam Walker answered on the second ring, airport noise in the background. "Ava? Everything okay?" "Marriage license," I said, my voice steady. "City Hall. Now. You in?" He'd been in love with me for eight years. "Liam," I said, "Are you in?" Another pause, shorter this time. "Give me an hour. Don't move." He hung up. My story was just beginning.

Billionaire's Sweetie: Honey All The Time

Romance

4.8

Lollo got set up to an arranged marriage upon reaching the age of twenty. Aside from this discovery, what shocked her most was that her future groom was no other than Harrison, the billionaire whose photo she secretly took for a job assignment. "You have the liberty to marry any woman you fancy. Why do you have to choose me?" Lollo snapped. "That is the price you have to pay!" Harrison retorted. Gnashing her teeth in anger, she accepted the proposal and started living with him. She tried her best to escape from his control, but she failed every time because the sacrifice of staying with him was not bad at all. After all, he had been drowning her with his endless devotion.