Fanqie catalogue
Books by 沙国的今儿
- Matches
- 4
From the Fanqie books we index, matched on the author's name.
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Quiet Down, I’m Just a Delivery Driver 都别吵，我只是个送外卖的
Late one night, an urgent “save my life” order sent delivery rider Lin Yuan into the deadly predicament of CEO Su Qingxue. Faced with one of Asia’s top assassins, he flicked a finger and shattered a poisoned blade, then lamented the seafood congee that had spilled: “You’re paying for this order.” Su Qingxue stared at the professional assassins groaning across the floor, her entire worldview collapsing. Trembling, she held out a contract. “Two hundred thousand a month. Be my bodyguard?” Lin Yuan
2Reads—Score—Shelves
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The Primordial Heaven-Slaying Art 太初弑天诀
On the Primordial Continent, countless races stand amid a world where the strong rule. Young Bei Peng bears a mysterious bone fragment. He leaves a border town and, in the midst of life and death, gains the supreme inheritance, the Primordial Heaven-Slaying Art. From then on, he refines chaos, devours myriad arts, battles prodigies, and destroys ancient clans. With his beloved by his side and his brothers at his back, he stains the road with blood and defies his way to the top. When yin and yang
1Reads—Score—Shelves
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I Opened a Human Resources Company in a Fantasy World 我在玄幻开人力资源公司
Bei Peng was a top-tier HR manager in his previous life. After transmigrating, he became a good-for-nothing abandoned by his sect in a fantasy world. Poor constitution? Pathetic comprehension? As he looked at the arrogant steward before him, his talent radar automatically scanned: [Constitution: Mid-grade Yellow Rank, Comprehension: Low-grade Yellow Rank, Character: Utterly disgraceful, Potential: 15]. Bei Peng smiled. That's it? And you think you're qualified to judge me? While others were stil
—Reads—Score—Shelves
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Rustic Mysticism 乡土玄灵
My name is Chen Qinghe. I was a graduate about to make a life for myself in the big city, but my mother's serious illness forced me back to my dying hometown, Huaiyin Village. I thought I would be facing poverty and partings, until that night: my mother's thin fingers trembled as she pointed out the window. An old man in an outdated jacket, with no shadow, was squatting by the wall and smoking a long-stemmed pipe. Later, in a dirt hollow on the mountain behind the village, I found Grandpa's stra
—Reads—Score—Shelves