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Every Qidian book we index, searchable by title, author or tag.
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Exiled by the Scrapped Sword Bones, I Killed My Master with My Right Hand.
This is a time of chaos in the fairy tales shrouded in the prophecy of "killing the master and destroying the world". Lu Chen is an orphan born with sword bones, but he is imprisoned by his enemy with an iron chain piercing the lute bone. As strange murders occurred one after another, he was forced to go down the mountain with his teacher, and fell into a certain death situation amid the rejection and surveillance of everyone. Awakening the causal deduction system, he used Shou Yuan as bait to t
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The Whole Family Dotes on Me After I Become a Military Household’s Wife, Now They Regret It to Their Core
The day Murong Zhao, Great Yan’s General Who Guards the Nation, fell in battle at Yanmen Pass, her blood soaked the jade qilin pendant. A thousand years later, a descendant of her bloodline was pinned beside a well by her mother-in-law. “You barren jinx, unable to bear a son! Drink this medicine and get back to your parents’ home!” Her three-year-old little dumpling clung to the edge of the well, crying, with a snot bubble smearing across her mother’s face. “No, no! Little Dumpling wants Mama!”
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Reborn at the Crematorium, My Scumbag Family Begs Me to Be Their Living Ancestor
I poured my heart and soul into raising my son to the rank of Duke, and sent my daughter into the palace as a consort. In return, they joined forces to confine me, and I died of rage in the Buddhist hall! Thankfully, Heaven took pity on me and sent me back ten years. Looking at the pair of heartless, ungrateful children before her, Shen Zhaozhao, the old madam of the Duke of Zhenguo’s household, sneered. “My dear children, this time your mother will personally teach you what it means to regret e
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Back at the General’s Manor, I Make My Scumbag Father Face His Reckoning
On a snowy night, when my cruel father drove me out of the General's Estate, I clenched my frozen fingers and wrote “Li Xiuyuan” in the snow. It was the last time I would ever cry for him. When I opened my eyes again, Su Wan, a modern tea artist, had transmigrated into the body of an abandoned legitimate daughter. In my hands, the tea manual my late mother left behind was a treasure waiting to be discovered! A roadside tea stall became a gold-lacquered tea pavilion, and rough clothes gave way to
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