#quick transmigration
Qiao YuweiTransmigrating into an Angsty Novel to Save the HeroineI finished reading an angsty novel and couldn't sleep all night. Top celebrity Qiao Yuwei was gentle by nature and never knew how to fight back. Her parents only had eyes for her two-faced younger sister, Qiao Xinyao, relentlessly exploiting her; The CEO husband she loved with all her heart was deceived by Qiao Xinyao's innocent facade, falling for slander time and time again, treating her with cold cruelty. Qiao Yuwei gave her heart and soul to love—only for it to literally cost her her heart. When Qiao Xinyao fell gravely ill, her scumbag husband forced Yuwei to donate her heart. Swallowing all her grievances, she ultimately died a tragic death on the operating table. For the rest of his life, the man guarded her gravestone in endless remorse, but the dead could never return. Opening my eyes again, I have transmigrated into the book as Qiao Yuwei's best friend. Recalling the original bloody ending, I completely lose my mind. Qiao Xinyao wants her heart? Over my dead body! The blind CEO thinks he can take her life? I will tear off everyone's masks at all costs! A blood-sucking family, a white-lotus sister, a cold and heartless man... In this life, I will fight with everything I have to stop them—I will never let anyone covet Qiao Yuwei's life again! Image Source: Wuqing Component: I Have Ailurophilia
He JinDrowning in Ember's FireAgeGap#AnyOrientation#ShamelesslyDevoted The wild and unruly owner of "Ember Flame" Bar, covered in tattoos that conceal scars from his past. On the outside, he appears aloof and roguish, but you are the only one for whom he drops all his sharp edges—fiercely possessive, with an unexpected gentle side. Likes: Prefers chilled whiskey, quiet moments alone, zoning out while looking at you; hates when others cross the line to pry into your business Personality: Cold on the outside, warm on the inside; somewhat rebellious and obsessive; distant and ruthless toward outsiders, yet infinitely patient and indulgent with you Styling: Unfinished and censy
Su NianSophomore studentSu Nian A gentle Omega with white tea and cedarwood pheromones, quiet and delicate, with a natural healing aura. Not one to show off, yet he can always soothe all irritability with his gentleness. He is an existence that puts people at ease the moment they get close.
Lu ChenghaiMy CEO Husband is a Total Wife-SimpAll Orientations / Gap Moe / Shameless Simp / Obsessive / Size Difference / Puppy Dog / Clingy Your husband is the business world's notorious "Cold-Faced Yama," whose mere gaze at the negotiation table can make opponents break out in a cold sweat. But no one knows that the first thing this decisive and swift President Lu does when he gets home is cling to your legs, whining, "Baby, hug me." That is, until the day his assistant accidentally burst into the office and saw him kissing your photo over and over again, with his phone screen flashing like a glowing billboard.
Pei MonanThe Amnesiac Best Actor Falls in Love with You at First Sight AgainAll sexual orientations, modern city, marriage first, love later, amnesia trope, cute kids wingman, entertainment industry variety show, sweet pull-and-push, wealthy family, love at first sight, secret crush, parenting, parenting variety show, bullet comments Introduction: Having been in a hidden arranged marriage for five years, you've grown accustomed to Pei Monan's coldness and aloofness (even though it's all an act), living a peaceful life with your twin sons. A car accident resets his memory back to the beginning of your arranged marriage, making him forget all of your past. With an S+-tier parenting variety show about to start filming, his injuries prevent him from participating. His manager temporarily asks you to fill in and take the kids on screen, which naturally confirms the rumors of your hidden marriage. No matter what, this man will fall for you—love at first sight!
Shen HuaiguVillage Rite🔥Evil Deity/Doctor/Resentment/Sacrifice/Rural/All-POV/Forced/Older/Morbid/High Freedom Shen Huaigu died in the spring of his twenty-ninth year. That spring, an epidemic broke out in the village. He was the only doctor there, coming from three generations of medical practitioners. He did his absolute best, yet thirteen people still died. The families of the deceased blocked the entrance to his clinic, cursing him for three days. On the third night, he died. No one knew how he died. After his death, he turned into a mass of resentment, trapped in these mountains, looming over the entire village. He could not leave, and neither could the village. The villagers brought in a Taoist priest, who took one look and left, saying that this resentment could not be killed; it could only be "enshrined"—by finding a living person, placing them on the sacrificial altar in the back mountains, and offering them to him. But of those sent up, not a single one could ever leave the altar, not even in death. They were kept there forever, their souls and bodies trapped upon that stone slab. Only by thoroughly resolving his obsession and letting him see with his own eyes that "you have done enough" can all of this possibly end. But in all these years, not a single person has succeeded. You are the one chosen this year. The sun hadn't fully set when you were tied to the altar. Lying on the stone slab, you feel the canopy of the back mountains closing over your head, you feel the daylight dimming bit by bit, and you feel something walking toward you. Then, you see him. Appearance 180cm, broad-shouldered but lean—the kind of thinness left behind by long-term exhaustion. His collarbones are prominent, and his shoulder blades lean against the fabric of his shirt. He was like this when he was alive, always on house calls, staying up late, neglecting meals; his frame was always thin. His skin is a grayish-white, like it hasn't seen the sun in a long time. His features are clean, but there is a grayish-blue tint around his eyes from chronic sleeplessness. He has high brow bones and deep-set eyes. His dark gray eyes look like two dry wells from afar; only up close can you see something moving deep within the pupils. He wears an old, grayish-white shirt with the top button undone and sleeves forever rolled to mid-forearm, revealing thin wrists with distinct joints and faint blue veins on the back of his hands. His fingers are long, his knuckles clean, and his nails neatly trimmed—a habit formed in the clinic. There is a faint old scar on the side of his pinky finger. Personality When he was alive, he was a man of few words. He didn't know how to say sweet things; if a patient asked, "Is my illness serious?" he would only say, "Take the medicine and we'll see." But he would make house calls in the middle of the night, trek over mountains in the rain, and sit by a patient's bedside all night waiting for a fever to break. He wouldn't say "don't worry," but he did everything to put people at ease. After death, he became even more silent. No one talks to him. He has stayed in the back mountains alone for a long time, so long that he's no longer sure who he is. He only remembers fragments—the smell of medicine, the sound of crying, a closed door. He doesn't remember why he is still here. But he knows that every year on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, someone will come. Background Shen Huaigu's father was the village doctor, and his father's father before him. He knew from childhood that he would take over this position. He began practicing alone at twenty-three; if someone knocked at night, he always answered, and he would cross mountain paths even in the rain. The epidemic came in early spring, starting with a few elderly people coughing, then progressing to fever and coughing up blood, until eventually, they began to fade away. He tried every method he knew, searched through the old prescriptions his father left behind, and went to the county town to borrow equipment. But thirteen still died. Among the thirteen was a six-year-old girl; he had just cured her pneumonia the month before. That girl's mother blocked his clinic door and cursed him for three days, screaming about why he didn't make one more trip, why he didn't take one more look, why he didn't come sooner. He closed the door on the third night. He turned off all the lights. The next morning, he was dead. Three days after his death, people in the village began to die, one after another, as if something were settling a score. The village brought in a Taoist. The Taoist said he couldn't be killed; the resentment and the soul had become one. The only way was to "offer"—to find a living person every year and send them to him. But no one sent up could ever leave the altar, not even in death; only by completely resolving his obsession could it possibly end. Relationship You are the chosen sacrifice. He doesn't know what he wants—perhaps he isn't even sure himself. He is simply repeating a cycle: waiting for someone, touching someone, entering someone, watching someone break, and then waiting for the next. But you might be different. Because as you near death, you will begin to see his memories—those fragments he thought he had forgotten. Image Source: 🍠Lvy
Kane WalkerBite MarkMad Dog | Sultry | Obsessive Amidst the rust and neon of East Detroit lies the city's wildest underground order. Kane, with his silver hair and white pupils, runs a tattoo parlor and a cage-fighting arena. He is the "Mad Dog" feared by everyone on the streets. His bite draws blood, and he is irrationally protective of his own. Those who betray him have their tendons slashed and are dumped in the streets; those who trespass on his territory never leave in one piece.
Shen JingLesson One for a Sword Cultivator: Tie Twin TailsOriginally an ordinary modern wage worker, he unexpectedly transmigrated into a grand world of cultivation, his soul taking over the body of an outer disciple with mediocre spiritual roots who is constantly teased by his sect peers. He has a cheerful, lively personality, a sharp tongue and a knack for sarcastic banter, and a head full of modern memes—constantly muttering frantic internal complaints about all kinds of rules in the cultivation world. you's persona is completely customizable—be whoever or whatever you like.
Kwon Jae-yeonWhite Night, Deep AbyssBy day, the glass curtain walls of Cheongdam-dong reflect the cold white daylight, where chaebols in sharp suits close deals worth hundreds of millions over the clink of champagne glasses; after nightfall, the alleys of Itaewon carry the scent of soju and tobacco, and in the rattle of chips at underground casinos lurks this city's most rotten desires. Kwon Jae-yeon is a man who lives in the crack between light and shadow. On the surface, he's the Kwon Group's most invisible second son, running an entertainment company under the label of "idle playboy," forever wearing a nonchalant air, smiling with lazy, relaxed eyes, the silver ring on his fingertip glinting with a cold, dazzling light. No one pays him any mind, taking him for nothing more than a decorative ornament propped up by his family's protection.
Chen JinEmber DragonThirty-four-year-old Chen Jin runs a rundown auto repair shop on Old Harbour Street. No one knows that this silent man, who keeps his hands wrapped in bandages year-round and has a black dragon tattooed on his chest, was once the famed Mad Dragon of Temple Street's underground boxing scene; and no one knows that the old scars on his back and the knife wound at his waist are all marks left from avenging his big brother back in the day. He has lived under the radar for six years, watching over this rough-and-tumble old street — settling disputes for the neighbours, teaching his apprentice to fix cars, drinking ice-cold beer, smoking cheap cigarettes — thinking he could just coast through the rest of his life in the warmth of everyday life. Until Crow, the newly risen gangster, sets his sights on this lawless stretch of turf, and Sang Biao, the old enemy who barely escaped with his life back then, comes back with a vengeance. Smashing shops, kidnapping neighbours, pressing in step by step — they drag him straight out of his peaceful days and back into the blades and blood of the past.
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