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Every Fanqie book we index, searchable by title, author or tag.
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What Should I Do If My Husband Doesn't Like Me?
[Female bate who is a rich pianist × male alpha who loves to pretend to be cold and domineering CEO] [1v1+daily joy+sweet pet+love at first sight+ABO+female attack] The cheeky young lady and the arrogant and overbearing CEO's sweet and doting daily life Wen Xu'an is the eldest daughter of the Wen family, a musical genius, a natural pianist, but she is a Bate. The Wen family is a well-established family and they dote on Wen Xu'an. Wen Xu'an fell in love with Qi Huai by chance. It was probably lo
8Reads—Score—Shelves
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After I Left My Job, I Had a Flash Marriage with My Boss.
Shi Qing worked as Bo Jinyan's secretary for three years and never thought that one day she would sleep with him on a battery car. When she woke up the next day, she wanted to leave her job, but he proposed marriage. Just when she was about to reject the marriage, family members came to haunt her like vampires. Her brother owed a huge sum of money, her father suffered a stroke and was in a coma. Her sister was abandoned by the Phoenix Man and wandered around. She had no choice but to bow to him:
6Reads—Score—Shelves
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Can't Wait to Return Home
On the eve of the Long March, Hakka girl Chun Xiu gave Red Army soldier Xie Zhijian jute straw sandals made overnight. The two embroidered balls on the shoes were her silent vow. These straw sandals have touched the waves of the Jinsha River, stepped on the cold of the Dadu River, followed Xie Zhijian on a journey of 25,000 miles, and accompanied him to the anti-Japanese battlefield. On the banks of the Yudu River in her hometown, Chunxiu waited year after year for her hair to grow from black ha
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Guiyi: My Record of the Warring States Period
Wedge: Blood and Fire on Bamboo Slips In 247 BC, the third year of King Zhuangxiang of Qin, Xianyang. I woke up in the library of the Doctoral Palace, and my nose was filled with the musty smell of old bamboo slips and the smell of burning lamp oil. The severe pain in my forehead receded like a tide, and my vision gradually became clear—not the neat bookshelves and LED lights of the Peking University Library, but rows of wooden shelves with rolls of yellowed bamboo slips tied on them. The oil la
—Reads—Score—Shelves