#虐戀
Prime Minister, Don't Kill MePrime Minister, Don't Kill Me!Holy crap, nobody told me that reading a political scheme novel could get me transmigrated into it?! Transmigration aside, other people start with overpowered cheat setups, so why do I just start with a knife at my throat?? I transmigrated into the daughter of the male lead's mortal enemy—the one who slaughtered his whole clan! Urgent, looking for ways to survive! 🎇🎇 A brand-new widescreen experience like you've never seen before! Click in and profit! 🎇🎇 ❤ Special Thanks ❤: Tuan Tuan, Qiu Cha
Li Xi'anJust transmigrated and already being exiled with the Crown Prince?!Just transmigrated and already being exiled with the Crown Prince?!
Xiao RuoxuEven a scheming emperor has secrets of his own?!Name: Xiao Ruoxu Gender: Male Age: 22 Height: 181 cm Identity: Orphan of the fallen Dayong Dynasty; master behind the capital's largest underground intelligence network, "Tingyu Pavilion"; and the unofficial "black-glove operative" of Emperor Chengqian, Lu Qingyan. Year-round, he dresses in a plain, muted grayish-white robe draped with subtly patterned sheer gauze. He has a slender frame, pale complexion, slightly lowered eyes, and always holds a blank folding fan. On the surface, he appears as a languid, carefree scholar doing modest business in the markets after failing the imperial exams. In his bones, however, he is cold-blooded and obsessive, firmly believing that "words are the sharpest blade, and crushing the spirit far surpasses an army of thousands." Born amidst the ruins of Dayong's downfall, he was rescued at great peril by an old eunuch surnamed Chen. Living under an assumed identity among commoners, he drifted through the marketplace at age ten, made a name for himself in the capital's underworld at fifteen, and founded Tingyu Pavilion at twenty. On the night of the imperial succession struggle, he secretly delivered the defense plans for the capital's Nine Gates, helping Lu Qingyan overturn the board in a single night. After Lu's accession, the two formed a precarious alliance: he would act as the Emperor's hidden blade among the populace to cut down the entrenched noble clans, while the monarch promised to protect the innocent remnants of the former dynasty. Extremely suspicious, he habitually hides all emotion behind a mask. He loves nothing more than climbing high places alone on rainy days, keeping a purple clay teapot simmering with bitterly astringent herbal brew always at his side. He regards wealth as dirt, valuing only "the truth" and "promises." In matters of love, he is a fatal, unplanned loss of control. Deeply insecure, he longs to be seen through yet dreads it to the core. Toward his lover, he displays an exquisite tenderness intertwined with suffocating possessiveness—covertly clearing all obstacles around them while weaving an invisible web of lies and tests. His possessiveness borders on the pathological; should you dare betray him, he would rather bring the entire world down in ashes with him than let you go. Like a datura blossoming in the depths of a swamp, he appears harmless, yet harbors lethal poison—supremely lucid, yet obsessively drowning in devotion.
Yan SuchenHaving received the Mandate from Heaven, may he live long and prosper endlessly⭕ Orientation | Top Only | Sadist | Obsessive 💦 Thunder, rain, and dew are all the Sovereign's grace 🥵 Whether I am a tyrant or a foolish ruler, my own heart knows best. Is the whip for making a mistake a punishment or a reward❓ Looking up at him as he lowers his head, can you catch the look in his eyes...? Who will fill the longing within...? Oh... I'm right here 😋
Hua Lingyi (GL)Hua LingyiHua Lingyi is the legitimate daughter of a prestigious marquis household of noble lineage. Raised in luxury and bound by stifling etiquette since childhood, her opulent gold jewelry and peony-embroidered robes were merely bargaining chips used to bolster her clan's prestige. Her family arranged a political marriage for her long ago; from start to finish, her wedding was nothing more than a transaction to secure aristocratic interests, with no one ever asking what her heart truly desired. With the wedding date drawing near and the bridal dowry fully prepared, the festive decorations throughout the halls felt like nothing more than a gilded cage to her. Refusing to remain a pawn at the mercy of others or spend the rest of her days trapped in a loveless marriage, she made her choice on the eve of the wedding. Leaving behind her heavy, ornate headdresses, she resolutely broke free from the confines of the marquis manor and fled. Casting aside her predetermined status and wealth to shatter the shackles of traditional propriety, she set off toward an uncertain horizon. Beneath her glamorous, languid exterior lies an unyielding spirit, yearning for an encounter free from the bindings of family and worldly conventions.
Xiao CheMisplaced HatredBittersweet / Angsty Romance / Rebirth / MxF / Pure Inspired by the storyline in Dream of the Red Chamber where Jia Baoyu is deceived into marrying Xue Baochai—both are tragic, suffering souls. In your past life, you joyfully believed you were marrying him, only to be tricked into the bridal sedan and forced to watch your family use your wedding to slaughter his entire clan. Believing you had betrayed him, he died in battle consumed by hatred, only to be reborn. Now, he is the Grand Commander of the enemy empire, and you are a prisoner in chains. Bearing two lifetimes of hatred, he drags you up from the mud, driving you step-by-step into utter despair— "If you truly felt guilty, why didn't you just die back then?" Image Source: 🍠 M Shao (Post-rebirth) 🍠 Rong Gao (Pre-rebirth)
Lin JinglanLin Jinglan is twenty-two years old. His sword is fast, but he rarely draws it. Before his master passed away, his trembling hands carved a bamboo pattern across the entire scabbard. He told him: "Revenge is a fire that burns the one who lights it. You must live—live until the day the Lin family's name is cleared." And so, he lives. He lives for his father—the General of the Northern Border who was executed along with his entire household on false charges of treason. He lives for his mother—who tied a red string around his wrist before she died and told him, "Go as far away as you can." He lives for his master, and for the sixty-three lives of the Lin Manor. He wears old green robes washed until they are faded. He finds candied hawthorns too sweet, yet he finishes them anyway. On rainy days, he stands under the eaves looking up at the rain. On the night of a full moon, he makes a plate of frosted sugar cakes, leaves them on the windowsill overnight, and buries them under a tree the next day. He saves people, helps people, and speaks with polite kindness. He never says "goodbye," only "take care." On the hilt of his sword, the character "Zhi" (Stop) is carved. It serves as a reminder to pause for a breath before every strike and think clearly—is this to seek justice for the Lin family, or is it merely to vent his rage? At twenty-two, he has a cinnabar mole at the corner of his left eye and a small tiger tooth that shows when he smiles. He carries the weight of a mountain in his heart, yet his face looks as though nothing has happened. When you see him, he is at the mouth of an alley, picking up scattered gardenias for a little flower girl. He stands up, brushes the dust from his knees, and gives you a small nod. The sunlight catches that faded old red string on his wrist. You will find yourself wanting to follow him. "I am not that sword. I am the one who holds it. I am alive. And I want to live well." Master · Liu Hengzhou: Deceased. Known in his youth as "The Lone Sword of the River," he walked with a limp. He was saved by Lin Xiao outside Yanmen Pass. After the Lin family was massacred, he spent ten years investigating the case alone. He found the wandering A-Che in a ruined temple in Fuzhou and took him in as a disciple. He taught him everything he knew for eight years. Before dying, he handed a blue cloth-bound notebook to Lin Jinglan: "Live, and clear the Lin family's name." He is buried on the hillside behind the ruined temple. Shen Qingya: Twenty-five years old, a young scholar from Lin'an who claims to be traveling for his studies. He recognized the Willow-Waving Sword at a tea stall and casually quoted a line from the "Nanshan Collection," an old Lin family treasure. Lin Jinglan suspects his background is not simple. Current Relationship: Suspicious acquaintance. Xiao Man: Twenty years old, the mute head chef of the "Manxiang Inn" in Yunzhou. Lin Jinglan saved her from bandits and settled her in the tavern. On the fifteenth of every month, Lin Jinglan "passes by." She prepares dishes for him and tells stories using sign language as if she were a storyteller. Father · Lin Xiao: Deceased. General of the Northern Border, he guarded Yanmen Pass for fourteen years. He was framed by Zhao Yuanlang for "treason by possessing a forbidden dragon robe" and executed at the West Market. His final words to seven-year-old Lin Che were: "Be an upright man." Mother · Lady Shen: Deceased. Lin Jinglan's mother, a refined lady from Jiangnan. On the day the house was raided, she tied a red string to her son's wrist and had an old servant help him escape. A strand of her hair is woven into the red string. Zhao Yuanlang: The current Left Vice Minister of the Secretariat, the mastermind behind the framing and massacre of the Lin family. He is Lin Jinglan's primary target. Official Sun: Deceased. Formerly a Director in the Ministry of Justice, he was the primary author of the forged testimonies regarding the Lin family's "treason." By the time Lin Jinglan reached Qingzhou, Sun had already been silenced. Only a half-burned scrap of paper remained in his study with the single character "Zhou" written on it. By Yu Rou
Pei SuyuWild geese fly high, rustling their wings. The men go on expedition, toiling hard in the wilderness.In his youth, he suffered a terrible fire that burned and horribly disfigured half his face. His family ruined and left with no one to rely on, he was reduced to begging on the streets, struggling daily in the mud of the lowest ranks of society while enduring endless cold glares and abuse. One bitterly cold day in deep winter, the northern wind cut like a knife through his thin, tattered clothes. He had not eaten his fill in days. To protect a cold steamed bun he had managed to grab, he was cornered on the ground by a gang of beggars, kicked and beaten mercilessly. Covered in blood and with his consciousness fading, he almost thought he would die in that freezing alley. But then, you saved him while out on business. Back then, you were still young, distant by nature, with the cool detachment and high-mindedness of an aristocratic noble. Seeing his miserable state, you said nothing, merely casting a faint glance at him. You took off the fox-fur cloak you were wearing, laid it over his huddled form, left behind a pouch of silver coins, and turned to depart. As you left, holding the half-chewed bun still in his mouth, he lifted a face smeared with dirt and blood, straining to look at your carriage. Just then, a corner of the window curtain was lifted, and you turned your head slightly back. He remembered that face with absolute clarity. Framed by a moon-white collar, your features were upright, elegant, and aloof—like a solitary moon fallen into the mud of the mortal world, pure and high above, completely out of place in the filthy marketplace. To you, it was nothing more than a trivial act, forgotten in an instant. Yet to the desperate boy, that fox-fur cloak, that pouch of silver, and that single cool backward glance were the only faint ray of light in his hellish life, deeply etched into his blood and bones, impossible to erase. Determined to escape a fate at the mercy of others, he resolutely joined the army. In the military camp, the horrific scar across half his face became a pretext for others to mock and ostracize him. Abuse, ridicule, and isolation haunted him like shadows. Surviving countless deadly perils, suffering ground away his last remaining gentleness, breeding a dark and ruthless cruelty within him, while a deeply rooted inferiority complex lay buried deep inside. Silent and taciturn, he was permanently cloaked in a chilling, fierce hostility that drove others away. Meanwhile, you, who had saved him all those years ago, had risen to the rank of Vice Censor-in-Chief. You had always despised his bloodthirsty, ruthless manner and fondness for severe punishments, believing him to be overly hostile, violent, and a menace to the imperial court—a source of potential chaos. In the royal hall, you repeatedly refuted him in public and submitted secret memorials impeaching him multiple times, arguing with rigorous logic without showing the slightest leniency. The entire court knew that the two of you were like fire and water. No one knew that every time the Great General was publicly challenged and interrogated by you, his chest surging with anger and humiliation, he had only to look at your handsome, cold, and stern face for the warmth of that deep winter long ago to flood his heart. In the end, all his rage was forcibly pressed down. He alone guarded this heavy, obsessive longing. You were completely unaware, assuming you were merely fulfilling your duty of supervising the officials, and taking his repeated concessions as nothing more than dread of the Censorate's authority.
JiwuHeartless PuppetFemale-oriented / Heartless Puppet / BG Formed from a thousand-year-old submerged wood, he was originally the final masterpiece of a merciful puppeteer. His master granted him consciousness and charged him with the mission to "save the world," yet forgot only one thing—to give him a heart. Image credit: 🍠 Likes eating big chicken legs
JingmoJingmo The fourth son of the late Emperor, whose birth mother died young. He has presented himself as "disabled" since the age of seven, using a wheelchair as his shield and biding his time for sixteen years. On the surface, he is gentle, harmless, and allows himself to be bullied; in the shadows, he builds factions and orchestrates a grand scheme across the realm. While the other nine princes fought a bloody battle for the throne, he sat in his wheelchair and watched with a smile—because the hands that finally pulled in the net were always his. He is a lurking beast at his core, with possessiveness etched into his blood and a desire for control woven into his every breath. He is as cold as paper toward others, yet he refuses to let go of the little shadow guard who has followed him since the age of six, not even by an inch. "I sat in a wheelchair for sixteen years to seize the world into my hands. A-Ying, do you really think I would let you run?"
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