Qin Wei
10 Published Stories
Qin Wei's Books and Stories
My Unwanted Wife Is A Top Assassin
Romance I was Nyx, a top-tier covert operative. But when I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the unfamiliar, overweight body of a bullied girl named Eliza.
Before I could even process the body swap, the bedroom door splintered open. I was in bed with Julian Malone, a wealthy military heir, both of us heavily drugged. Cameras flashed wildly. It was a vicious setup to ruin his career, and I was the bait.
To save his family's reputation, Julian was forced to marry me. But the moment the wedding was over, he abandoned me. His elite family treated me like a disease. His mother froze my only bank account, trying to starve me into submission.
I even intercepted a private conversation between his parents.
"Once she's in a private facility, she loses all legal standing. We can sign anything we want on her behalf."
They planned to lock me up in a mental asylum and erase my existence entirely to get rid of the "trailer park trash."
To them, I was just a weak, pathetic pawn they could crush without a second thought. They thought they had backed a helpless girl into a corner.
They had no idea they had just declared war on a lethal weapon.
I didn't cry or beg. Instead, I bypassed their state-of-the-art security, cracked their safe, and stole the financial secrets that could destroy their entire empire.
"I want five hundred thousand dollars, or these files go to the IRS."
This time, I was playing by my own rules. Contract Marriage With The Genius Heiress
Modern Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground. Beyond His Lies, Her Alpha's Love
Werewolf Aliana braved a heavy storm, carrying a warm stew for her fiancé, Ivan, just as she always put his needs before her own. This ingrained habit, a survival mechanism from a cold childhood, was about to shatter into a million pieces. Tonight, everything she believed was a lie.
The iron gates of Ivan's private villa flashed red, denying her entry, and a guard mumbled lies. Ignoring him, she pushed past, a strange orchid perfume leading her to Ivan's car, where a tube of crimson lipstick lay on the passenger seat. Through a window, she saw him with another woman and a small child, an image that felt like jagged glass twisting in her heart.
Then his words cut through the storm, cold and cruel:
"Aliana is just a placeholder."
He was marrying her for her multi-billion-dollar patent, a secret deal made with her own parents, who had sold her for a kickback to buy this very house. Her family, her love, her future-all were a calculated lie.
Her inner wolf, usually fierce, fell terrifyingly silent, replaced by a chilling resolve. The burning acid in her throat wasn't just bile; it was the taste of her shattered devotion.
She didn't want his apologies or his guilt. She wanted his ruin, and as Ivan walked in with a fake smile the next morning, Aliana was ready to deliver it. From Rejected Omega to the Supreme Alpha's Queen
Werewolf I stood before a polished black headstone, tracing the gold letters of my own name.
Five years ago, my Fated Mate, Clayton, rejected me in a blizzard because I was a "useless Omega" who couldn't shift. He left me to freeze to death so he could mate with my sister, Ainsley, claiming it was necessary for the pack's genetics.
Now, Clayton stood behind me, trembling as he dropped a bouquet of wilted lilies.
He thought I was a ghost. But when he realized I was alive, the shock turned into arrogance. He tried to use his Alpha Command to force me to my knees.
My family was even worse. When I walked into the pack house, my father accused me of treason for "faking my death." My aunt tried to slap me for being disrespectful. They demanded I donate my blood to save my father's life, still treating me like a disposable resource.
They didn't realize that the pressure crushing the room wasn't coming from them—it was coming from me.
They had thrown away a Royal White Wolf to keep a human pretending to be a shifter. The irony was suffocating.
I didn't flinch when they threatened me. I just smiled and let my true aura explode, turning the air to ice.
"You rejected me for being weak," I whispered, my eyes flashing silver.
Then, the doors blew off their hinges. My husband, the Supreme Alpha, walked in and grabbed the elders by the throat.
"You just declared war on the Blood Moon Pack." Beyond the Script: My Own Path
Fantasy The dull throb behind my eyes was just the beginning. I blinked, and golden text shimmered in the air: "Divorce Day! The classic starting point for the wife-chasing crematorium!" I was Ethan Miller, a tech entrepreneur who' d just coded for 36 hours straight. But the man in the mirror was Liam Stone, a cold CEO infamous for mistreating his wife, Olivia.
A divorce agreement lay before me. The words weren't just floating text; a flood of Liam's memories poured into my mind. This man, driven by obsession for a manipulative ex, Sarah Jenkins, was destined for a miserable end. The toxic story was supposed to lead to Olivia's humiliation and suffering.
Hovering comments confirmed it: "He' s definitely thinking about his precious Sarah right now." They expected me to act like the jerk Liam was, to prolong Olivia' s pain, and then spend 200 chapters groveling. They wanted the "crematorium."
But I wasn't Liam. I wouldn't live his pathetic life. With a decisive flick of my wrist, I signed the divorce papers. "It's done. You're free." The floating comments flickered, then vanished.
The plot was broken. My phone buzzed with a call from Sarah Jenkins. The "white moonlight." I didn't answer. I blocked her number. Then I fired the head of marketing for embezzling company funds to pay for Sarah's lavish lifestyle.
My father, Richard Stone, confronted me, demanding I beg Olivia for forgiveness and threatening disinheritance. His words were harsh: "You will not see another penny from this family or this company."
"Okay," I said. "You can have the company. You can have the family inheritance. I don't want it." I walked away from everything, the chorus of confused comments a soundtrack to my liberation.
Later, at a charity gala, I watched them circle: Sarah, Mark Davies (her accomplice), and Olivia. The original story slated this night for Olivia's ultimate downfall. They had conspired to plant false rumors and even faked an accident that led to Olivia' s miscarriage.
But I had other plans. With a tap on my phone, security footage of Sarah and Mark' s damning conversation, detailing their schemes including the "accident" that caused Olivia' s miscarriage, filled the screens. "You were so quick to believe the worst of me. You never once questioned your 'best friend'. You never once used your own judgment. You let them play you like a fiddle."
I left the chaos behind. My father called, begging for forgiveness now that the truth was out. Olivia, too, whispered apologies. But my answer was cold: "The man you married, the Liam Stone who was obsessed with Sarah and cruel to you, that man is dead. He was killed by you, by Sarah, by Mark, by my father. You all had a hand in it. So don't talk to me about the past."
A few days later, Olivia showed up at my new penthouse. She wanted to understand. "My tragedy was being born as Liam Stone in the first place." I told her. "I have no love for you, Olivia...You are a stranger to me. And I'd like you to leave my home now."
I wanted peace. I wanted to build. And I would. Destined Hearts: From Contract To Love
Romance Ava Hayes, a celebrated star, was on top of the world.
Her life was a meticulously managed canvas of sold-out concerts and acclaimed films.
But one quiet family dinner shattered her carefully constructed reality.
Her parents, with somber faces, dropped a bombshell: an arranged marriage.
Not just any marriage, but a binding promise made generations ago, tying her to the powerful Grayson family.
It felt like a bizarre relic from a bygone era, an unexpected contract in an already public life.
Despite her confusion, Ava agreed, pragmatic as always; her love life wasn't a priority anyway.
She soon found herself inexplicably drawn to Liam Grayson, the strikingly handsome and intensely private CEO she was suddenly married to.
His thoughtful gestures and quiet care slowly began to chip away at her composure, making her question everything she thought she knew about their "arrangement."
Yet, doubts festered.
Liam's tenacious ex-admirer and the media's relentless speculation about her own professional ties ignited a fierce jealousy within her.
Why did it sting so much to see him with another woman? Why did she care?
Was this just a contract, or was something far more complicated-and terrifyingly real-unfolding?
Then came the bungee jump, a terrifying plunge that unexpectedly revealed the terrifying truth: Liam was her anchor, her safe harbor in a chaotic world.
His protective fury over her fabricated scandal and injury, his raw, unadulterated jealousy, finally ripped away the facade.
It was time for Ava to stop pretending, to acknowledge the undeniable force that had taken hold, and for both of them to claim their love-on their own terms. The Husband Who Threw Me Away
Billionaires I was Elara, an orphaned girl embraced by foster parents, now the wife of Julian Vance.
Our marriage, two years strong, coincided with a miraculous turnaround in Julian's health and fortune, earning me the quiet title of the family' s 'lucky charm' .
But then, my estranged half-sister, Chloe – the one my wealthy biological family kept – dramatically reappeared.
She accused me, with theatrical tears, of manipulating everyone and driving her away.
Julian, without a moment's hesitation or a single glance at my visibly rounded stomach, cast me aside, his face a mask of cold fury.
I was banished to a desolate 'wellness retreat,' a euphemism for a hellhole where public humiliation was daily bread and I endured three years of unspeakable degradation.
There, alone on a cold floor, I tragically lost our unborn baby.
Upon my return, a mere husk, I overheard Julian dismiss me as a discarded 'rabbit's foot,' and shortly after, Chloe set fire to the boathouse where she'd confined me, intending to burn me alive.
The crushing weight of their betrayal hit harder than any physical blow: I was never Julian' s wife, never family; just a disposable vessel for their 'luck,' discarded once my purpose was seemingly served.
How could Julian, my own husband, be so blind, so callous?
And what kind of monster actively orchestrates another's living hell, then tries to erase them entirely?
But I refused to be extinguished.
Pulled from the literal and metaphorical ashes by my loving foster parents, the naive victim they knew perished that night.
From the remnants of despair, a new Elara rose, transforming their small farm into 'Elara' s Harvest,' a thriving empire built on integrity and true strength – ready for vengeance, or perhaps, something far more satisfying. Not Just a Horse: The CEO's Unstoppable Revenge
Billionaires The quarterly board meeting was standard, a high-stakes, productive morning for me, Scarlett King, CEO of King Global. My phone vibrated discreetly on the mahogany, a text from my oldest friend, Maria, flashing urgently across the screen.
"Scarlett. Urgent. Check this link. I'm so sorry." The link opened an Instagram reel, and my blood ran ice cold. It was Desert Mirage, my champion Arabian stallion-a treasured legacy from my grandfather-terrified, his magnificent coat matted with cheap glitter. A woman, Tiffany Starr, brutally yanked his reins. Then, sickeningly, my husband Ethan's laugh echoed, encouraging her.
The caption seared: "Ethan says I can handle anything! Even this rich bitch's pony." My hands clenched. When I called, Ethan sounded annoyed. "Scarlett? Tiffany was just having fun. He's just a horse." He hung up, dismissing me as "uptight" to someone nearby, the line going dead.
"Just a horse." My horse. My legacy. He dismissed it. He dismissed me. He sided with her. This wasn't mere abuse; it was a public desecration of my soul's depth, my family's legacy. The humiliation was a raw, physical ache, hardening into cold, pure fury. This was more than betrayal; it was a declaration of war.
I didn't scream, I didn't cry. My mind honed to laser focus. I buzzed Marcus, my head of security. "Tiffany Starr is at the Chateau Marmont. Remove her. Publicly. Serve a restraining order. Revoke all King Global studio access." They wanted a war. They would get one they'd regret. Magical Romance: My Heart Beats To Love Rhythms
Romance The moment Wendy stepped into the wrong room, she fell into the hands of Jacob, a charming devil. What she didn't know was, he had been looking for her.
The first time Jacob set his eyes on Wendy in the bar, his heart skipped a beat. The next day, he hurriedly finished his work and went back there to see her again. But much to his dismay, she wasn't there anymore. Feeling disappointed, he walked back to the presidential suite that he booked. He was lying alone in the bed, but when he slowly turned around, she found a woman right next to him. He was in awe when he recognized that she was the woman he had been longing to see again. As his lips covered hers, he felt so sure that she was the one for him, and he was determined to make her his. You might like
While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her
Katie Oettgen As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole.
I begged him for help, my vision blurring.
But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background.
"Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again."
He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm.
I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube.
Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry.
Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled.
"You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up."
He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research.
I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym.
They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive.
They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity.
I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding.
I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it.
Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house.
The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born. Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father
Madel Cerda I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector.
That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world.
The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor.
The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist.
Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch-a titan of industry and my best friend's father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared.
"Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb.
Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen.
"Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back."
I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe. Too Late, Mr. CEO: Watch Me Shine
Nieves Gómez Kayla stood outside the CEO suite, holding a custom suit for her fiancé, Brennon. They had spent seven years building a tech company from a freezing garage into a billion-dollar empire.
But through the cracked door, she heard the breathy laugh of Evelin, the newly hired director. Then came Brennon's low, careless voice.
"The wedding's a PR milestone for the IPO, nothing more."
Kayla's blood turned to ice.
"She's comfortable. Makes sense on paper," Brennon continued. "But you, Evelin. You understand ambition."
The betrayal hit her like a physical blow. She had written the core code that made him a billionaire. She had stayed up until 4 AM debugging while he slept on a futon. Now, he was mocking their relationship to his mistress and handing over her life's work to a woman who couldn't even read a data log.
Seven years of loyalty, reduced to a PR stunt. She didn't cry. Instead, a cold, violent clarity washed over her. Why should she let him keep the crown she forged?
Without a word, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger and dropped it into her bag. She walked out of the building, drafted her resignation, and accepted a VP position at his biggest Wall Street rival. It was time to show Brennon what happened when the real genius behind his empire decided to tear it down. One Night With My Billionaire Boss
Nathaniel Stone I woke up on silk sheets that smelled of expensive cedar and cold sandalwood, a world away from my cramped apartment in Brooklyn.
Beside me lay Ezra Gardner-my boss, the billionaire CEO of Gardner Holdings, and the man who could end my career with a snap of his fingers.
He didn't offer an apology for the night before; instead, he looked at me with terrifying clarity and proposed a cold, calculated business arrangement.
"Marriage. It stabilizes the board and solves the PR crisis before it begins."
He dressed me in archival Chanel and sent me home in his Maybach, but my life was already falling apart. My boyfriend, Irving, claimed he had passed out early, yet his location data placed him at my best friend's apartment until three in the morning. When I tried to run, I realized Ezra was already ten steps ahead, tracking my movements and uncovering the secret I'd spent twenty years hiding: my connection to the powerful Senator Grimes.
I was trapped between a CEO who treated me like a line item on a quarterly report and a boyfriend who had been using me while sleeping with my closest friend. I felt like a pawn in a game I didn't understand, wondering why a man like Ezra would walk up forty flights of stairs on a broken leg just to make sure I was safe.
"Showtime, Mrs. Gardner."
Standing on the red carpet in a gown that cost more than my life, I watched my cheating ex-boyfriend's face turn pale as Ezra claimed me in front of the world. I wasn't just an assistant anymore; I was a weapon, and it was time to burn their world down. Broken Ring, Billionaire Secrets: Watch Me Shine
Cornelia I sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkle of the sanitary paper sounding like thunder in the sterile room. The doctor didn't even look at me as he confirmed the news: the pregnancy was over. My husband, Keyon, didn't answer my call. He just sent an automated text: "In a meeting."
When I returned to our cold mansion, I found his iPad glowing with a message from his "muse," Katina. He was throwing her a secret gala tonight-on our third wedding anniversary. He told her he couldn't wait to escape the "boring" and "draining" atmosphere I created at home.
Keyon didn't stumble in until 3 AM, smelling of Katina's perfume with a smear of red on his collar. When I handed him the divorce papers, he laughed in my face. He called me a "glorified housekeeper" with no skills and no future, promising I'd be back in three days begging for a subway ticket. He even bet his friends ten thousand dollars that I wouldn't survive a week without his name.
He had his assistant cancel my credit cards and block my gate access before I even reached the end of the driveway. He wanted me to starve. He wanted me to crawl. He sat in his office, mocking the "desperate" woman who pawned her three-million-dollar wedding ring for scrap metal just to pay for a meal.
I stood on the rainy curb, watching the man I had protected for three years treat my life like trash. He didn't know about the ultrasound I just threw in the bin. He didn't know that while he was calling me "dull," I was the one secretly writing the code that kept his billion-dollar empire from collapsing.
As I slid into a cheap Uber, I opened a hidden, encrypted app on my phone. The screen refreshed to a dashboard for an account Keyon didn't know existed. The balance was ten figures long-the accumulated wealth of "Solaris," the world's most elusive tech genius. Keyon thinks he just evicted a parasite, but he's about to find out he just declared war on the only person who can hit "delete" on his entire life. Neglected Wife: Hidden Heiress's Cold Revenge
Da Lanlan I stood in the pouring rain at my father-in-law's funeral, the heels of my black pumps sinking into the mud. I was Mrs. Vargas, the wife of New York's most powerful billionaire, yet I was standing at the edge of the crowd like a forgotten statue.
Ten feet away, under the dry shelter of the family tent, my husband Hayes held another woman against his chest. It wasn't me he was whispering comfort to; it was Felicity, his late brother's widow and childhood sweetheart.
The humiliation didn't end at the cemetery. Hayes moved Felicity and her son into our home, relegating me to the guest wing while she took over the primary suites. He watched silently as her son smashed the only photograph of my deceased parents, then demanded I apologize for "scaring" the boy with my reaction. When Felicity's negligence ruined a twelve-million-dollar family heirloom, Hayes had the audacity to ask me to use my own savings to buy her a "consolation" engagement ring. He treated me like a parasite, never realizing I was a brilliant scientist with a hidden fortune and three patents to my name.
I realized then that our three-year marriage was a hollow farce. Hayes had never even touched me, claiming he wanted to "remain pure" for his memory of Felicity. I was nothing more than a business merger, a smudge on the lens of the perfect family portrait he was building with another man's widow.
The breaking point came during a lethal blizzard. Hayes promised to accompany me to my family's mandatory gala-a tradition where my absence meant a death sentence. But at the last second, he stood me up to stay home and tend to Felicity's stubbed toe. Left alone to face the wrath of the Santos Matriarch, I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow as punishment until my lungs began to fail and my vision blurred.
Just as the darkness started to take me, a black Maybach smashed through the iron gates. My exiled brother, the man the world calls "The Wolf," stepped out of the storm to reclaim what Hayes had discarded. Hayes thought I was a helpless doll who couldn't survive a day without his trust fund, but he's about to find out what happens when you let a Santos daughter freeze. He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
SHANA GRAY The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her.
Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead.
A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living.
Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body.
Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back. His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love
Elroy Notman Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun.
Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos.
As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage.
The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice.
Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her. 
/1/115029/coverorgin.jpg?v=20824edb41ac9af27a765a5d1f343ab8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113760/coverorgin.jpg?v=d138ca81b80805b82fa561558a0f2b22&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114468/coverorgin.jpg?v=ac840eb67b515c9edf9a4d836da3c8f0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105976/coverorgin.jpg?v=9dd277a67442fe3f9075d03775111c24&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86960/coverorgin.jpg?v=58ac9f2f08c7f11bdf0e5d5458be4c94&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85375/coverorgin.jpg?v=92cda6fa9ba03e7836688dbe797c81f5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83038/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ed45c86160df2c9f4ba0f345ffbb202&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82938/coverorgin.jpg?v=4027b01176ac7d096d924f1efeed4ddc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18748/coverorgin.jpg?v=4f23dadd6d636d2d8cb21e0667214c27&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18767/coverorgin.jpg?v=a241ad71b4333e278be9b9b3ca726bf5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110344/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee9edc19532d5cad4529d092169ad91d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112583/coverorgin.jpg?v=18d6e11bd7e648d3c960a600b8a48bd9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106591/coverorgin.jpg?v=7112ffc44f6337f03a03bec3d6824a38&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/112769/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd6b6998663f70779359461368a87cc1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105410/coverorgin.jpg?v=68bf1b78d60cae51b9e167ecf8a0a734&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106250/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4e3d94e67e6bc16aef1c6b8ac1afa18&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/105396/coverorgin.jpg?v=9abb7fd8d203f2b57b6c8ad902bd6685&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/102860/coverorgin.jpg?v=fb1450ebea277ac6119b3b112743e9b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/101423/coverorgin.jpg?v=7bf1dc2685ee6e3097492f6899d4a76f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/89487/coverorgin.jpg?v=f2315ec669d3740f8cfa6b8315d4e559&imageMogr2/format/webp)