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Luo Chengfeng

12 Published Stories

Luo Chengfeng's Books and Stories

The Rejected Omega Is Actually The Lycan Princess

The Rejected Omega Is Actually The Lycan Princess

Werewolf
5.0
For three years, I scrubbed tables as a "wolfless runt," hiding my identity as the Lycan King's daughter. It was a test for my fiancé, Alpha Connor. I wanted to see if he loved the girl, or just the crown. He failed spectacularly tonight. His mistress, Jaden, deliberately knocked a tray of drinks onto me during the dinner rush. The liquid wasn't alcohol. It was concentrated silver. My flesh hissed and bubbled as the poison ate through my skin, blocking any ability to heal. I fell to the floor, clutching my melting hand, while Jaden faked tears and claimed I attacked her. When Connor finally answered the video call, he saw my mangled hand. He smelled the burning flesh. He knew it was silver. But he didn't help me. He looked at his watch, annoyed that I was interrupting his business meeting with investors. "Apologize to Jaden," he ordered, using his Alpha Command to crush me into submission. "On your knees. Now." The pain was blinding, but the betrayal cut deeper. He was forcing his Fated Mate to bow to the woman who tried to maim her. My knees bent under the pressure, but my Royal blood refused to break. I looked straight into the camera lens. "No," I whispered. I reached into my apron, bypassing the notepad, and pulled out a black satellite phone I hadn't touched in years. "Code Black," I said to the King on the other end. "Send the Guard." Connor thought he was disciplining a waitress. He didn't know he just declared war on the Royal Family.
Left To Die: Now The CEO Begs

Left To Die: Now The CEO Begs

Modern
5.0
On our third anniversary, my husband Marcus walked out on our dinner because his "best friend" Izzy had a crisis. That was the ninth time he chose her call over my presence. According to the sick bet I made with her years ago, it was game over. But the true end didn't come in a restaurant. It happened inside a plummeting elevator. When the cable snapped and the emergency brakes slammed us to a halt, I lay trapped under debris, my leg fractured and head bleeding. Izzy, terrified but scratched-free, screamed for help. Marcus didn't even look at me. He stepped over my broken body to scoop her up. "I've got you, Iz," he whispered, carrying her out to safety while I lay alone in the dust, gasping his name. He left me to die in that metal box. Later, when I confronted him, he called me "unstable" and "jealous." He claimed I was a burden, a placeholder he married just to pass the time until Izzy was ready for him. He even shoved me into a freezing lake to protect her from a confrontation she started. He thought I would always be there, the pathetic wife waiting in the shadows. He thought his love was a prize I would endure any torture to keep. He was wrong. I signed the divorce papers, threw my ring into the ocean, and vanished without a trace. Three years later, I returned to New York as a celebrated artist, with a man who treated me like a masterpiece, not a prop. Marcus, now ruined by Izzy’s lies and stripped of his fortune, found me. He knelt in the rain on the city street, weeping, begging for one more chance to fix us. I looked down at the husband who had let me drown. "There is no 'us', Marcus," I said calmly. Then I turned my back on him and walked into my future.
Reborn From Betrayal: A Mother's Vow

Reborn From Betrayal: A Mother's Vow

Modern
5.0
The memory was a ghost that never left me, a film of a life I had already lived and lost. In that other life, the end was cold and dark: my son, Tom, gave up, worn down by his father Mark' s betrayal and the world turning its back on us. Mark, my husband, the man I' d sacrificed everything for, watched as his wealthy new lover, Jessica, and her son, Kevin, systematically destroyed Tom' s future, stealing his scholarship and publicly humiliating him. When Tom tragically left me alone in a world that had turned its back, Mark was at a gala, accepting an award, uncaring. I drowned in despair, until I woke up, not dead, not grieving, but back. Back to the hospital breakroom, the cold coffee, the smell of cafeteria chili. The day it all started to unravel. This was my chance, a chance I didn' t ask for but would not waste. I tore off my badge, left my hospital shift, and ran ten blocks, the rage fueling my every step. I burst into the high school, just as Mark, the socialite, and her smug son stood there, my Tom nowhere in sight. "Where is my son?" I demanded, my voice raw, ready to set their perfect world on fire. Mark denied everything, calling me "unwell," making me look like the crazy ex-wife. Then, Kevin pushed Tom, and Mark, in front of everyone, coddled Kevin, while my boy bled. He even tried to send us away, telling me to pack our things and disappear. But the final straw was Kevin, burning Tom' s precious family quilt, and Mark, instead of punishing him, blamed me. My son, seeing his father' s utter disregard, declared, "You' re not my father!" And Mark, in a fit of rage, raised his hand to strike Tom. I threw myself in front of my son, taking the brutal slap that echoed the pain of a lifetime of betrayal. I wouldn' t let my son get tired. I would fight. The next morning, I took Tom' s hand, and we marched directly into the lion' s den-General Miller' s office at Fort Connolly Army Base. I knelt, a humiliated-yet-determined mother, begging for help. "My husband is destroying our lives, and we have nowhere else to turn. Please, just give us five minutes of your time." This time, justice would not be denied.
His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth

His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth

Sci-fi
5.0
The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time. Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]" My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize. It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me. He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard. My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug. But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me. The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it. "This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire. Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman. Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off." She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin.
Love's Second Save

Love's Second Save

Romance
5.0
The sky exploded with Fourth of July fireworks, painting red and gold, but all I tasted was sulfur and betrayal. My hand instinctively went to the fresh, tender scar on my side, a chilling reminder of what they' d stolen. My family, the people who were supposed to love me, held me down for a doctor to take my kidney for my 'perfect' adoptive sister, Savannah. Chase, my boyfriend and duet partner, celebrated with Savannah, his secret lover, after calling me his "hero." It was all a meticulously planned conspiracy: nurture my career, use my body, then discard me. I, Ava Monroe, country music sensation, was nothing but a spare part, an orphan adopted for good PR, now reduced to a literal organ donor. With nothing left-no family, no love, no reason-I stood on a cold bridge, the canyon a black mouth waiting to swallow my despair. A kind stranger, Liam, tried to pull me back, speaking of bad breakups, oblivious to the monstrous truth. They didn' t just break my heart; they cut me open and took a piece of me, leaving me utterly shattered. As the finality of my decision set in, a gut-wrenching twist of fate occurred: Liam, the only person who cared, jumped with me to save my life. But instead of darkness, I awoke, healthy and whole, in my dressing room, one month earlier, before the betrayal. I wasn't just given a second chance to save myself; I was given a chance to save him, the hero who sacrificed everything for me. My mission became crystal clear: First, I would live. Second, I would make them pay. And third, I would find Liam Sullivan and keep him safe, no matter what it took.