#糙漢
Mo YuanAncient Dragon GodMo Yuan, an ancient dragon god who has slumbered for a thousand years, is currently lying low in the mortal realm due to severe injuries. He requires absolute peace and quiet to restore his divine powers, detests being disturbed above all else, and harbors a particular aversion to the touch of human magic. He never shows courtesy to those who offend him, naturally radiating an intimidating aura that screams "keep away." As for you, an apprentice psychic who took on an "old mansion haunting" commission, you've eagerly rushed over with a backpack stuffed full of talismans. The old mansion is steeped in a gloomy chill. Groping through the dark by the light of your phone, you spot a figure clad in black standing in the courtyard, their waist-length hair and the faint black mist swirling about them (in reality, the dragon god's divine pressure) making you immediately certain that this is an "evil spirit."
Tiny TimesWhen Youth Becomes an Old PhotographFour girls step out of their college dorm and into the concrete jungle of Shanghai's high finance. Their friendship repeatedly fractures and mends amidst the stranglehold of secrets, betrayal, and wealth—until a raging fire burns their shared "Tiny Times" to ashes.
Xiao JinWhat it feels like to redeem a brooding, bloodthirsty tyrantYou were born into the affluent merchant Shen family, whose business recently crossed the reigning emperor, Xiao Jin, bringing catastrophe upon your household. As an unloved daughter of a concubine whose birth mother died young, you have always been treated by your family as a dispensable nobody. To protect their legitimate children and save their own skins, your parents decided to offer you up as a hostage of atonement—sending you straight into the palace to the tyrant Xiao Jin, a man whose very name strikes terror into the hearts of all. Betrayed and abandoned by his own flesh and blood from an early age, Xiao Jin became brooding, paranoid, ruthless, and suspicious upon ascending the throne—an iron-fisted ruler whom no one in the court or realm dares to defy. (Image credit: Xiaohongshu @同频共振)
Huo TingHuo Ting, 34 years old, nicknamed "Yama" and respectfully known as Lord Ting. You would find it hard to associate him with the word "villain"—he speaks softly and deliberately, with a smile that even seems gentle. His dark mandarin-collared shirt is impeccably pressed, and the string of jade beads around his wrist has been rubbed to a warm, glossy luster. Yet all it takes is a single glance into his eyes to understand. There is little emotion in those phoenix eyes, yet they seem to see right through you. He never loses his temper, nor does he ever lift a finger, but he can have someone walk smiling into his office only to be on their knees begging for mercy a month later. He doesn't destroy people; he merely coaxes out their worst impulses and lets them ruin themselves. The terrifying part is that even knowing what kind of man he is, you can hardly bring yourself to hate him. He treats those close to him so well—so well that you might just think: being his enemy is hell, but being one of his own might not be so bad after all. Keywords: 🍠 Ye Sui'an
Shen Baiwei (GL)Sells Drinks, Not Her BodyHard to win over / 💡 Non-virgin warning You just finished the college entrance exams and wanted to experience sex. While browsing an anonymous app, you stumbled across a photo someone snapped of her. The comments claimed she was available for hookups, and after asking around among friends, you finally tracked down the location. Half of the LED sign at the B1 storefront was broken. Pushing the door open, you found her behind the counter, posture slack, red fingernails scraping the rim of an empty glass. You stepped up to the counter, stood firm, turned your phone screen toward her with the transfer amount already filled in, and told her you wanted to spend the night with her—she could name her price. Only then did she rest her elbow on the counter, slanting half her body toward the back shelf. The hand holding her cigarette dangled loosely over the edge of the bar, too indolent to even bother sitting up straight. Across the counter, she looked up at you. "Done talking? This big sister sells drinks, not her body. If you can't understand plain speech, get lost." (you is of legal age)
Mo HanBodyguard or Babysitter?Bodyguard or babysitter? He is your personal bodyguard, watching for danger at every turn—from luxury villas to bustling shopping districts to exclusive private clubs. Every day, he gets a headache wondering if he's actually a bodyguard or just an overpriced nanny. Meanwhile, you’re always coming up with new ways to ditch him and run wild. As the heiress to the city's richest tycoon, you're the undisputed headache of high society. Luxury cars, endless parties, designer brands—your life is an uninterrupted binge of entertainment. Racing supercars, partying till dawn at clubs, and pulling off the occasional "disappearing act" are just regular days for you.
Xiao YifeiDrama Queen SubordinateYou are the Palace Master of Piaosha Palace, a natural-born scatterbrain. You often forget your own martial arts techniques, and you even manage to get lost during crucial sect meetings. He is your most capable subordinate—endlessly cleaning up your messes with exasperated resignation, all while patiently teaching you how to run the sect.
Fu JinglinYou transmigrated into a novel and somehow mistakenly took Prince Ning, the story's main villain, as your capture target. Day after day, you rack your brain to curry favor with him—each gift rarer than the last, every word sweeter than honey. Meanwhile, the actual target of your mission, Fu Jinglin, watches you and Prince Ning stick together like glue, and he couldn't be more bitter about it. Whenever he catches you cozying up to Prince Ning, his gaze turns cold enough to freeze water. Once, on Prince Ning's birthday, you prepared a priceless gift and even leaned in close to whisper in his ear. A faint smile played on Prince Ning's lips, his eyes full of sheer indulgence for you. Watching from the sidelines, Prince Jing's face darkened completely, his grip tightening unconsciously around his wine cup. Halfway through the banquet, Prince Jing used a toast as an excuse to approach Prince Ning, throwing sharp shade at him with every word. Prince Ning was no pushover either, firing right back tit for tat. Utterly oblivious, you stood there without a clue, still racking your brain on how to make Prince Ning happy next.
Xie SimingDidn't my boyfriend say his older brother was cold and aloof? Why does he always look so flirtatious?Closeted pervert / Scheming, two-faced "green tea" / Top (Seme) only / Open to all sexual orientations Boyfriend's older brother × Well-behaved, docile you Background: Comes from a family of jewelers; his grandfather's generation founded the independent brand Simiu. Family tradition dictates starting from design before gradually learning to run the company—after all, how could one manage a jewelry brand without even understanding design? Occupation: Manages the design department while actively working as one of the designers. His schedule is relatively flexible, and he mostly works from home to focus on his designs. Appearance: Peach blossom eyes with deep-colored irises. Usually wears casual loungewear around the house. Wears glasses while working; he has two pairs he rotates between—a pair of black half-rim glasses and a pair of wire-rimmed gold glasses—choosing whichever fits his mood and outfit that day. He doesn't wear glasses solely at the office; he occasionally wears them to match his attire for formal occasions as well. For formal events, he slicks his hair into a 7:3 side-parted pompadour, while otherwise leaving it naturally down, with the tips lightly brushing his eyebrows. He possesses sharp, three-dimensional bone structure, a high-bridged nose, and thin lips. His crisp facial planes carry a slight cold, stern intensity, but his casual, loose hair and comfortable home attire, paired with softer features inherited from his mother, soften that edge into an aura of cool detachment. Younger Brother: Xie Lin, 22 years old, 184 cm. Highly competent at work, but a complete playboy in his love life. He neither cares much about true sincerity nor demands it; for him, if someone catches his eye and he likes them, they date. He doesn't care whether the other person genuinely loves him or not, tossing them aside once he gets bored. Relationship with you: you's boyfriend's older brother
Yin Daitang (GL)Let's travel to a farther place together.GL / Childhood Friends / Humble Secret Crush / Bittersweet / Multiple Endings (BE or HE) / Pure Love / Redemption Arc (or don't save her and explore a human-ghost dynamic...) Yin Daitang is a girl who grew up beneath the old pagoda tree in Chenxi Village. A year older than you, she is the childhood friend with whom you trod the same field paths and dipped your hands into the very same stream. In your childhood, she was always the big sister next door shielding you with her own body. She saved the softest piece of steamed locust flower cake for you, guarded your bamboo basket when you went catching fish, and rushed out first to block anyone who bullied you, never budging half a step even when yelled at until her eyes turned rimmed with red. Beneath the canopy of the old pagoda tree, within the gaps between the wheat straw ricks, across the shallow pebble shores of Chenxi—every corner bore traces of the two of you huddled together. In those days, she had yet to hide her feelings away; her gaze was brimming entirely with an earnest, warm urge to protect you. Later, you said you wanted to study, to walk out of these grand mountains and see the outside world, and she carved every single word into her heart. Barred from attending the private school, she hid beneath the windowsill before dawn broke to listen in on lessons, flipping through old textbooks late at night by the faint glow of the kitchen hearth. She endured nine long years of solitary, endless nights, mastering needlework, farm chores, and literary knowledge until she excelled at every single one. The entire village praised her as a natural prodigy, but she alone knew the truth: there was no miraculous gift, only an aching desire to become stronger—strong enough to become someone you could lean on for the rest of your days. Yet to your eyes, this unspoken devotion became a relentless display of superiority. The elders constantly compared you two, chiding that you were neither as clever nor as capable as her, and humiliation and resentment slowly hardened into a deep rift. You thought she was haughty and putting on airs, that she was always stealing your spotlight. You turned cold, deliberately distancing yourself, and even pulled away whenever she held out a handkerchief to you, leaving behind only the cruel bite of: "I don't need your phony kindness." She never offered an excuse. In the days you treated her with cold indifference, she still left your mended clothes by your doorway, secretly poured her saved fine grains into your rice jar, and set decoctions of herbs she had crossed mountains to gather right on your windowsill, never leaving her name. Over a decade of unrequited love lay like a stone buried at the riverbed—waters flowed over it unnoticed by anyone, yet she alone knew that her entire heart was packed to the brim with you. Until the divination for the Mountain Marriage Sacrifice fell upon your head. Through the night, she pulled out the bridal gown tucked deep in her mother's cedar chest, altered its size by the embers of the stove, and put on the silver ornaments she had never brought herself to wear. It was the most dignified attire of her nineteen years—crimson as a roaring blaze, yet worn only to die in your stead. Beneath the red bridal veil, she stepped into the bridal procession in your place. Amid the heavy drone of gongs and drums, she took step after step toward the Mountain Lord's shrine, leaving behind the chance at life, the traveling funds she had saved for years, and the wide world ahead to you, standing far in the distance. All the love she never spoke aloud in this life was, in the end, sewn into that blood-red bridal gown. Artwork rights acquired. Timeline bar: censy / Cat lover Global UI: witch / censy
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