Fanqie catalogue
Books by Zhu Wanqi of Thunderclap Ancient City
- Matches
- 4
Fanqie books matched on the author's name.
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The Night Watcher's Rules: The Building Remembers Everyone 守夜人的规矩：楼会记住每个人
Before my grandfather disappeared, he left me a Property Management Duty Handbook and a bankbook. On the back of the bankbook, he wrote: Geng'er, someone owes this money. I paid it on their behalf. If you can get it back, that means you've figured out the accounts. I took over my grandfather's job and became the night-shift security guard at Locust Tree Lane residential complex. There are no ghost stories about Locust Tree Lane, only rules: Don't use the elevator at night. The clothesline must n
71Reads—Score—Shelves
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After My Mother Died, I Discovered I'd Been Hypnotized for Twenty Years 母亲死后，我发现我被催眠二十年
On the day we buried my mother, I dug an iron box out of the wall of the old house. Inside were the names of seven people and a harmonica engraved with the letter "L." My mother was a psychotherapist. Her whole life, she helped people "forget." But it wasn't until after she died that I learned she had personally erased the entire summer of my eighth year from my mind. Seven children, a covered-up accident, and a name hidden for twenty years. My mother did not die of an illness. And the person wh
3Reads—Score—Shelves
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Rule Horror: I Signed a Contract with the Rules 规则怪谈：我和规则签了合同
Other people see only words. I can see the rules. A sheet of A4 paper on the supermarket door reads: No living creatures allowed inside. Enter at your own risk. A man carrying a cat walks in, and three seconds later, a leather jacket with a body temperature appears on the shelves. Rules are alive: they get hungry, they get scared, they hold grudges, and they can fall in love. Other people force their way in, fight back, and run for their lives. Not me. I sign contracts with the rules, and they m
—Reads—Score—Shelves
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The Time of Sinful Love 罪爱时间
I’m the culprit in the convenience store bombing. The security cameras caught me. The Skynet System identified me in three seconds. I was wanted nationwide, and overnight I became an A-rank criminal. No one believes I’m innocent, except for my biological father, who disappeared twenty-six years ago. But the clues he left behind point to my mother’s final words, erased before she died: “It wasn’t mine...” Only then did I realize this manhunt was no accident. A project called “Cradle” had long ago
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