Fanqie catalogue
Books by Midnight Dream 1
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- 4
Fanqie books matched on the author's name.
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Transmigration: Becoming a Mother in Ancient Times, Fleeing a Famine with a System 穿越逃荒远离极品，老娘只想躺平
[Farming + Ancient Romance + Fleeing Famine + Everyday Family Life + Space + Daily Battles with Wicked Relatives…] Li Xingyue, who stayed up late playing a farming game, inexplicably transmigrates to the Great Ning Dynasty, a dynasty that never existed in history. What a disastrous start. Fine, she’s transmigrated, but she’s also been saddled with a child for free. Her three-year-old daughter is as skinny as a bean sprout, she has another baby on the way, and to make matters worse, her useless h
3.1kReads8.5Score276Shelves
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The Divorced Farm Girl Marries a Hunter and Enjoys Wealth and Glory 被休农女转身嫁猎户坐享富贵荣华
[Farming + historical romance + transmigration + winning back his wife + family life] After seven years as a child bride, Shen Yao receives nothing but a divorce letter from her husband, who has just made it big by passing the county-level civil service exam. Shen Yao is so ashamed she jumps into a river to end her life. Meanwhile, in the 21st century, Shen Yao accidentally knocks over an antique table lamp in her storeroom. With a jade bead in her hand, she unexpectedly transmigrates into the b
3.1kReads8.8Score336Shelves
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Now That I’ve Transmigrated, Who’d Still Want to Be a Concubine? 都穿越了，谁还愿做妾？
[Historical romance, farming, business, family life, transmigrate into a book] Hua Ciyue transmigrated into a book, becoming the foolish concubine who dies early in a villain-focused story’s male lead’s life. But Hua Ciyue refuses to be a concubine, and she certainly doesn’t want to die young! All she wants is to leave the male lead behind and live life on her own terms. But she still ends up being exiled along with his family... Oh, well. She can’t fight the powers that be, and she can’t just a
1.3kReads8.0Score106Shelves
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Her Husband Chooses His White Moonlight, So She Makes a Grand Exit 夫君选择白月光，她选择华丽转身
My husband kept his first love in his heart, and I never complained. Not until I knelt in the snow for three days and three nights, begging him to look at our daughter just once, only for him to step over me with his first love in his arms. That was when I finally understood: he didn’t love me, and he didn’t care one bit about the child I’d borne him. Later, when enemy forces surrounded the city, I fled with my young daughter. In the ruins, he found my journal, half burned. Its pages were filled
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