Female Protagonist

On the night of my wedding, the Queen ordered her guards to pin me down and force those Glass Slippers back onto my bleeding feet. She said that if the shoes were not sated by my blood before the thirteenth bell toll of midnight, she would carve out my heart to feed the mirror. The entire hall waited for me to become a Princess Consort, but only the groom, Su Zhichuan, leaned in and whispered into my ear, his voice trembling and hoarse. He said, “Don’t believe in fairy tales. Kill me before dawn, or you’ll be the one who dies.”

Yun Chu is a hungry young succubus whose fiancé despises her true form and rations the affection she needs to survive.

After she falls from a cruise ship, she wakes on a private island in the care of Song Xuye, a fierce, sun-browned recluse whose secret merman tail makes him her perfect match.

What begins as a shameless plan to seduce, abduct, and keep him as her personal food supply becomes something far more dangerous when jealousy, trafficking, and a rigged race expose how cruelly their world treats nonhuman beings.

Only when Song Xuye risks everything to defend a captive succubus does Yun Chu realize that the hunger pulling her toward him has become love.

I am the only mortal in a xianxia drama—the lowly tool sacrificed to an immortal-demon romance.

I schemed, endured every humiliation, and fought only to survive, yet after my death, every immortal despised me.

“Dying was one thing. What a pity she sullied the snow.”

After being reborn, I watched the live comments reveal the plot, swallowed my blood and tears, and began playing the most fragile, kindhearted heroine imaginable.

Little by little, I tested the personas the audience loved most, until they adored me—until they went mad for me.

Then I would lay this world of immortals and demons beneath my feet.

Who could ever guess that Fairy Xueyi, the peerless prodigy unseen in ten thousand years, was only a mortal?

I imprisoned the peerless genius I had secretly loved for years.

After an accident left her blind, I covered her eyes with a silk ribbon.

Now she glares in my direction and angrily condemns my despicable methods.

She asks what I want from her.

I tell her I want her to cooperate with her treatment and recover in peace.

I will heal her eyes.

And later, I really do.

I promise to return her to her old life, only for her to fly into a rage.

“What? You’ve only kept me prisoner for a few days! Are you stringing me along? How dare you leave me hanging like this!”

“You’d better pray I never find you. If I do, I’ll show you exactly what it feels like to be left hanging!”

Too guilty to acknowledge the threat, I send her away that very night.

I think everything will finally return to normal—until she actually finds me.

The silk ribbon that once covered her eyes is now cinched around my wrists, hoisting me high above the floor.

Forced onto the tips of my toes, I have nowhere to hide beneath her unwavering gaze…

The celebrity Zhu Yuan is dead. I still hate her. She always made me feel as wretched and hidden as a rat scurrying across the street.

And yet, I found her third gift. It was a plain music box sitting in the hospital corridor.

I casually handed it to the child in the neighboring bed.

She was dying, too.

After a fight with my husband, I went to my boyfriend for comfort.

Then we got caught.

My boyfriend stepped in front of me and told my husband, “The one she doesn’t love is the other man!”

I said, “Keep your voice down!

Is this something to be proud of?”

After overwork kills her in modern China, Zhang Yinhe is reborn as an abandoned infant in an ancient dynasty—and learns before she can even speak that freedom will never be given to her.

Sold into slavery, exchanged for profit, and repeatedly treated as someone else’s property, she survives every household, prison convoy, raider camp, and pleasure house with sharp instincts, shameless nerve, and the hard-earned skills of a former office worker.

Her fight for independence entangles her with Gu Zheng, a disgraced young master hiding a general’s true identity, and Anyang Ge, the quiet herdsman who once offered her a gentler life, but neither affection nor safety can tempt her back into a cage.

Armed with a false beard, a belt of pearls, and knowledge from a later age, Zhang Yinhe crosses war-torn borders in search of drought-resistant seeds and a future built on her own terms—even if Gu Zheng must first learn that love begins with an equal choice.

Spending the night in an abandoned temple, I found a thin gauze handkerchief wreathed in fragrance. After nightfall, someone murmured beneath the window:

“My lady, have you perchance seen the handkerchief this humble scholar left behind?”

Through the crack in the door, the figure outside looked so ethereal that it seemed he might drift away on the wind at any moment.

At his words, I couldn’t help recalling the rumors about this place.

They said this temple had been abandoned for ages, and that seductive ghosts haunted the area. Any traveler who got entangled with them would either have their essence sucked dry or be dragged into another world, vanishing without a trace.

With that in mind, I hurriedly cracked open the window and tossed out the piece of cloth I had used to wipe the floor, the windowsill, and my stinky feet.

The other party caught it with lightning-fast reflexes.

Then he stared down at the gauze scarf in his hand, now crumpled and ruined like dried pickled greens, and fell into deep contemplation.

At three in the morning, the funeral home’s Morgue was only supposed to have five registered bodies, yet I found a sixth, unregistered, nameless female corpse in locker number six.

A slip of paper was pressed against her chest with nothing but my name written on it.

Even more terrifying was the moment my hand brushed her wrist; I saw the last seven seconds of her life and heard her raspy, blood-choked voice whisper: “Shen Nian, don’t trust your father.”

That was the night I realized that sometimes, the dead don’t come to say goodbye-they come to reopen a case.

At one o’clock in the morning, I counted the Eleventh Step on the western staircase of my office building.

Resting on that single step was a white sneaker, its laces tied into the same blue dead knot my missing best friend always used.

Five years ago, a woman had died in this building.

Now, the security guard who holds the elevator for me every day looked up and flashed a smile.

“Miss Tang, you shouldn’t go around counting stairs.”