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Every Fanqie book we index, searchable by title, author or tag.
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The Pregnant Beast God of War in the Drought Era
Wu Muzhi dragged his lead-filled legs up to the seventh floor. The key was inserted into the keyhole and turned half a turn to open it. "I forgot to lock it again..." He mumbled and opened the door, but there was no light in the room. Night came early in Wasteland City, and the residual light of the neon sign of the building next door filtered through the window, cutting the living room into a grid of alternating light and dark. Then he saw himself. There was a man sitting on the sofa, wearing t
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The Six-Year-Old Cute Baby Was Demolished and His Mother's Rotten Peach Blossoms Were Demolished.
The air-conditioning in the restaurant was on full blast, and my hands shaking when I was holding the lemonade. The man sitting across from me is named Jiang Hao. He was introduced by my best friend Auntie Chen. He is said to be a rich second generation who is divorced, owns a house, and earns one million yuan a year. Today we met for the first time, and we made an appointment at this French restaurant in the city center where the average household consumption is RMB 500. To be honest, I was ver
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Taunting the Regent, the Harder I Scold Him, the More He Loves Me
My head hurts like someone hit me with a hammer. I opened my eyes, and what I saw was a dazzling bright red. A strong smell of powder entered my nose, making me sneeze three times in a row. I looked down and saw that I was wearing a wedding dress and sitting in a sedan chair that was so bumpy that it could knock out the overnight meal. "I'm going, what's going on?" My last memory still remains of working overtime at the company all night long, lying on my desk and squinting for a while, and this
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I, Zhao Gao, Will Bite Back the Protagonist's Luck
The salty smell of blood rushed into my nose, and I opened my eyes suddenly. The cold bluestone hurt my knees, and the hall was dark, with only a few oil lamps dancing dimly in the corners. I knelt on the ground, my hands were covered with something sticky - when I looked down, it was blood. Not my blood. Memories of my body flooded in, and that familiar dizzy feeling made my stomach churn. Three days ago, I was engulfed by this dizziness. At that time, I had just returned from working overtime
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Broken Bowl Sonata
When Xun Zhencang put the broken bowl into his coat pocket, the rain had just stopped. The last train of Metro Line 3 was empty, and he stared at his pale reflection in the window. Tonight's commercial performance was messed up - two guitar strings were broken, and the bald sponsor in the audience's face was as black as the bottom of a pot. There was a sudden panic in my pocket. He took out the bowl. Under the pale light of the subway, the crack along the edge of the bowl seemed to be breathing.
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All Things Speak, and All Household Objects Are Actors.
At three o'clock in the morning, I was awakened by a roar. It wasn't a dream. The sound was like someone putting a loudspeaker in my ear and shouting: "You bastard, are you stuffing overnight snail noodles into my stomach again?!" I sat up with a start, my vest instantly soaked with cold sweat. The room was dark, with only the hum of the refrigerator echoing in the living room. Wait, refrigerator? I ran out barefoot and turned on the light in the living room. The old-fashioned double-door refrig
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