Shui Qingying
13 Published Stories
Shui Qingying's Books and Stories
Framed By Love, Unleashed By Vengeance
Modern I was a top patent lawyer until my husband and his lover framed me, destroyed my career, and sent me to prison. For seven years after, I was presumed dead, living as a ghost in a warehouse.
Then, they found me. My ex-husband, Edgar, and our son, Kody, showed up, shocked to see me alive.
They lured me to Kody' s 18th birthday party, but it was a lie. The party was a surprise engagement celebration for Edgar and Celena, the very woman who ruined my life.
In front of everyone, Edgar told me to "let go."
My own son even begged me.
"Mom, please," he cried. "Just say you're sorry."
Sorry? For what? For surviving the car crash they orchestrated to kill me?
I looked at the boy I once loved more than life itself. In the sudden silence of the ballroom, I smiled and asked, "Kody, do you remember the night Celena asked you to slash my tires?" Reborn to Reject You
Romance I woke up with a gasp, my head pounding, in Ethan Reed's opulent penthouse. Another one of his infamous parties, and he was slumped, reeking of alcohol, calling out someone else' s name.
Then he mumbled, "Call… call my angel. Call Chloe." My blood ran cold. This was it. The exact moment. The one I' d lived and died to escape.
In my first life, my stupid, desperate love for him – my guardian – led me to seize his drunken vulnerability. That night, I "comforted" him. It led to a scandalous pregnancy, a forced marriage, and his true love' s death in a car crash on our wedding day. Ethan blamed me for everything. He transformed into a monster, and when I went into labor, he watched me bleed out, whispering hateful words as I died. "This is for Chloe," he' d hissed.
I spent my entire previous life trapped, tormented, and discarded for a love that was a lie. How could I have been so blind, so foolish? The injustice of it burned.
But this time, I was lucid. This time, I had my memories. My hands were steady as I reached for my phone, found Chloe Vance's number, and pressed call. This time, I wouldn't seek his love. I would shatter his perfect life and gain my own freedom. A Compass, A Betrayal, A Life
Romance The first sign was a hotel receipt I didn' t recognize, crumpled in my husband' s suit pocket, for an "Ocean View Suite" for two. He was supposed to be at a tech conference that night.
The next evening, I followed him. He left his office building with a woman, his new assistant, Chloe Davis. They were laughing, and his hand was on the small of her back as they entered a fancy downtown restaurant.
I watched them inside, looking like a couple in love. When I stumbled and dropped my purse outside, I heard Chloe say, "She' ll never find out, Mark. She' s too trusting." And Mark replied, "I know. But Ava… she' s sensitive."
"Sensitive." The word felt like a slap. I confronted them, only for Mark to defend Chloe, who feigned illness and leaned on him. Then I saw it: my fifth-anniversary gift, an architect' s compass, dangling from Chloe' s neck. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I was three months pregnant.
Mark chose her, shielding her as if I were the threat. I collapsed, blood pooling on the pavement, my baby gone. He had killed our child. Yet, in the hospital, he sided with Chloe again, letting her lie about her miscarriage, then using my dog, Daisy, to force my apology.
Why did he abandon me so utterly, so cruelly? How could the man I loved destroy everything we had built, and then blame me? I was lost, but a new resolve sparked within me. I was not alone. My loyal Daisy, waiting at home, was my last pure comfort. I called my lawyer and asked for divorce papers. Contaminated Love, A Wife's Escape
Romance For five years, I chased my husband Liam' s love, a tech mogul I deeply adored.
Then, after three incredible nights where I finally felt like his wife, I stumbled upon a chat on his computer.
It was with my sister, Chloe, and it revealed a horrifying truth: those intimate moments were a cruel setup.
Liam recorded them, sent them to Chloe, and messaged, "This way she' ll finally leave me alone. Don' t worry, Chloe, I' d rather die than touch her. You' re the only one I love."
My world shattered.
An audio file played Chloe' s sweet voice, "Oh, Liam, I' m so touched! You found so many people to mess with her just to protect my reputation?"
So many people?
Liam' s reply sickened me: "She' s so loose, it' s a blessing anyone would touch her. Besides, I have all the compromising photos and videos, so she can' t blame anyone even if she knows."
The man who held me for three days wasn' t Liam.
He sent strangers.
I fled, my body screaming contamination, only to have Chloe, wearing Liam' s shirt, block my entry back home.
"Liam was just adding my face to the system, and I think I accidentally deleted yours. My bad," she smirked.
Liam emerged, his voice flat, "Chloe needs this room. It' s closer to me."
He ordered me to a distant guest room, then handed me a pill.
"Take this. I' m not ready for kids yet."
It hit me: he worried I' d get pregnant with a stranger's child-a child he' d arranged.
Later, listening to their laughter from the master bedroom, rage simmered.
Then Chloe, wearing Liam' s sacred bracelet, whispered close, "Every month, he spends a week with me at a secluded resort. That' s our special time… He even says he feels sick when he sees you at home."
Before I could react, she scratched my arm, drawing blood.
"Ava, you bitch, stop pretending! I hate your pitiful act! I want to take everything from you!"
She shoved me, a vase shattered, leaving a gaping wound on my arm.
Liam rushed down, sweeping Chloe into his arms.
"Chloe, does it hurt? I' ll take you to the hospital."
He saw her nails' marks but blamed me.
"Ava, you' re still so manipulative! You' ve always framed Chloe!" he roared.
"Go to the basement tonight. Don' t come out until you' ve copied a hundred books!"
He stepped over my prostrate body, crushing my arm.
Bleeding, broken, I crawled to the ER.
"No anesthesia," I told the doctor.
"I want to remember this. I want to remember the pain."
I needed every stitch to burn away my foolish love.
I signed the divorce papers.
Back in the mansion, trapped in the basement, I heard fireworks.
Liam was celebrating Chloe' s "recovery."
Five days later, Chloe feigned reconciliation, offering me tea. Liam forced my mouth open and poured the scalding liquid down my throat. My flesh screamed.
I woke in a hospital, my throat ruined, my face Liam' s only concern.
"Don' t worry," he told me, "Your face won' t scar."
My face. Not my voice. Not the agony.
I croaked, "Let me go."
He hung up, leaving me to call my lawyer: Deliver the papers.
Relief washed over Liam when I handed him two documents.
He quickly signed, thinking I wanted property, not realizing the divorce agreement lay beneath.
My phone rang moments after he left for Chloe.
A headline screamed, "Socialite Scandal: Architect Ava Miller' s Wild Lifestyle Exposed, Intimate Photos Leaked."
My private photos.
My voice raw, I called 911.
The IP address traced to Chloe.
Liam' s call came, "Ava, are you crazy? Chloe was just messing around, it didn' t even hurt you. Do you have to be so petty?"
He still thought I didn' t know the truth.
He warned, "I' ve already had the case dropped. No one in this city will take your case now."
My mother called, screaming, "You' ve disgraced our entire family! If you don' t apologize to her immediately, you are no longer our daughter!"
"I won' t be your daughter anymore," I replied, then hung up.
At the airport, Liam messaged: "I' ll give you a child."
I sent him the signed divorce agreement.
"Liam, I won' t bother you anymore. I' ll make way for you two."
I boarded the plane, leaving him, my family, and my shattered past behind. The Code Monkey's Revenge
Modern I poured five years of my life into Nexus, the social media giant, building its very soul from lines of code in my quiet apartment.
The world knew my live-in boyfriend, Mark Davis, as the CEO of ConnectCorp, the charismatic face of our success, but they didn't know I was the genius behind the curtain.
On the eve of our IPO, a critical server failure threatened to derail everything, which I, Ava Chen, single-handedly fixed, only for the doorbell to ring.
It was Chloe Miller, my college rival and Mark' s new Head of Product, who sauntered in uninvited, her smile as sharp as her designer suit, to tell me my contract was "terminated, effective immediately."
Fired? It was impossible, I was Nexus, the very heart of the company.
My call to Mark rang once, then Chloe answered on another phone, locking eyes with me as she faked distress for her "call with Mark," accusing me of aggression.
"You' re his mistress," the horrifying realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, confirmed by her cruel smirk and the photo of Mark and me she turned face down.
Outside, a crowd of ConnectCorp employees gathered, pointing and whispering, eager witnesses to my public humiliation, confirming my worst fears.
Then Mark' s car screeched up, and he stormed out, ignoring me to pull Chloe into a theatrical embrace before yelling, "What the hell did you do, Ava?"
Before I could explain, his hand flew through the air, connecting with my cheek, the crack echoing through the silent street.
The man I loved, the man I built an empire for, had just publicly slapped me for his mistress.
"You' re just the code monkey who got replaced," he sneered, joining Chloe' s cruel laugh as the crowd cheered my downfall.
It was in that moment, stripped of everything, that a cold, hard resolve solidified within me.
When Mark, attempting a final insult, offered me our old, dilapidated apartment as severance, I grasped the USB holding Nexus' s un-uploaded core.
"There' s your data," I declared, throwing the drive to their feet, forcing them to scramble like dogs.
Then I walked out, leaving the life I built behind, burning it all down for a chance at true liberation. The Road of A Unwanted Wife To Her True Home
Romance The first time I saw proof of my husband' s affair, it wasn' t some hushed secret, but splashed across the internet for everyone to see.
Grainy paparazzi photos showed Ethan Carter, the formidable head of Carter Industries, at a parent-child carnival, dressed in a ridiculous bear mascot costume, holding a little boy' s hand and smiling at the woman beside him. That woman was Isabella, his ex-fiancée, and the boy was their son, Leo. They looked like the perfect family.
My first instinct was to call my PR team to scrub the photos, but Ethan had already beaten me to it, making them vanish, a stark reminder that our marriage was nothing more than a strategic business merger.
Then, they arrived at my doorstep: Ethan, Isabella, and Leo-a picture-perfect trio, while I, his legal wife, stood an outsider in my own home.
Leo, a three-year-old, kicked my shin and shrieked, "You stole my dad!" Ethan, instead of chastising his son, turned his icy gaze on me and declared, "He' s just a child. Besides, Isabella raised him alone all these years. I owe her."
His words cut deeper than any physical blow.
In three years of marriage, he had never once scolded me, yet now, he defended his ex-fiancée and her child against me, his wife, with a chilling coldness.
That night, Isabella, with a triumphant smirk, flaunted a hickey, whispering, "As long as Leo is around, Ethan and I can never truly be cut apart. Give him back to me."
My composure cracked, replaced by a cold, searing rage. Love? For people like us, it was the most insignificant thing in the world.
Three strikes, Ethan. You' re out. Phoenix Project: Her True Self
Romance The date of my father' s funeral, circled in red on the kitchen calendar, also marked the day I decided to leave Mark.
The decision settled into me with a cold, hollow certainty as I washed dishes, my hands immersed in warm water but my soul feeling frozen.
Then, a black government car pulled up, out stepped General Sterling, my father' s commanding officer and once mine, now the only one who checked in on me.
He sat in my living room, explaining the program needed me, that my name was at the top of the list for the elite "Phoenix" project.
I, Elara Vance, once an expert pilot, a national hero who saved lives, now spent my days scrubbing floors, my hands chapped and unpolished.
Just as the General tried to remind me of the woman I used to be, the front door burst open.
My son, Leo, raced in with Julia, our neighbor, and her son Cody, excitedly showing off an expensive drone Julia had bought for him, a replacement for one Mark had claimed was "falling apart."
Mark, my husband, walked in right behind them, beaming, ruffling Leo's hair, completely ignoring me and the uniformed General in our living room.
He looked right past me, telling me to "make some snacks for the boys" as if I were a servant, a humiliation that burned, a decorated officer reduced to fetching food in my own home.
Julia gave me a sweet, pitying smile, while my son cheered as Mark replaced my framed picture in my flight suit with the drone box on the mantel.
Mark then cruelly asserted that my dead father and my past meant nothing, that I was "weak" and had "gotten soft," while Julia suggested I was unwell and should "lie down."
Then, Leo, my own son, shoved me.
I fell, hitting the coffee table, a blinding pain shooting through me; through the agony, I saw Leo's triumphant face and Cody's subtle thumbs-up-they had planned it.
Lying in the hospital, my hip throbbing, I overheard Cody and Leo gloating about their plan: my injury meant I' d "go away for a long time," and Julia could replace me, becoming Leo' s new mother.
My son, my own flesh and blood, had been turned against me, wishing I was "more like your mom," echoing Mark' s casual cruelty and Julia' s saccharine poison, shattering the last fragments of hope for my family.
In that sterile, silent room, a cold, hard clarity descended: the lie I' d been living was over, and the bond with them was severed.
The medical staff then revealed Julia needed a directed blood donation, as I was a match for her rare type.
Mark, accompanied by Julia, demanded I give blood to the woman who conspired against me, showing more concern for her than for his injured wife.
"No," I said, looking at him with pity.
General Sterling reappeared, revealing Julia's anemia was chronic and had disqualified her from military service years ago.
Understanding the game, I agreed to the donation, knowing it would lull them into a false sense of security, a final act before destroying their carefully constructed world.
Drained and alone after the donation, Leo visited, offering a wilted flower, murmuring that Cody said I' d be mad and "probably won\'t come home."
Watching him walk away, every flicker of maternal instinct died; he was theirs, and I was finally, blessedly free.
Two days later, discharged, I returned to a house reeking of Julia' s perfume, my photo gone, and Julia directing a cleaning lady in my kitchen.
When Mark, irritated, said I was "in no position to make demands" and tried to physically escort me to my room, something snapped.
In one fluid motion, I sidestepped his grab, used his momentum against him, and pinned him face-down on the living room carpet in a compliance hold.
"You are mistaken," I whispered, my voice that of Commander Vance, of Phoenix. "I am not weak. I am not your patient. And this is not your house."
I ordered Julia out, then walked out myself, leaving Mark and Julia in the ruins of the life they thought they controlled, ready to reclaim my own. The Wife He Couldn't Afford
Romance The organ music swelled, a majestic sound meant to signal joy, but all I felt was a cold dread seeping into my bones.
Amidst Savannah' s elite, I, Annabel Anderson, stood in my custom-made wedding gown, a perfect Southern belle about to secure a vital political alliance.
My fiancé, Wesley Scott, was arrogant and entitled, and I didn't love him, but this was my path.
Just as the wedding march was about to begin, a bridesmaid burst in, gasping, "Annabel, it' s Gabrielle! They found her in her room. Pills." My younger half-sister, the constant reminder of my father' s scandal, had attempted suicide. The wedding halted.
At the hospital, Gabrielle, frail and tearful, clutched Wesley' s hand. "I couldn' t bear seeing you marry her," she whispered, then delivered her masterstroke: a fabricated story of sacrificing her fertility to save him, twisting his misguided honor. Wesley, his arrogance gone, turned to me, "Annabel, she is your sister. We can make it work. She can be my wife, and you… you can be her sister-wife."
The suggestion hung in the air, a scandalous, barbaric insult to my family' s honor. How could he ask the Senator' s daughter to share a husband, to become a party to public disgrace?
Was he truly this manipulated, this blind?
Standing in the chaos, I looked at Gabrielle's triumphant eyes. She thought she had won. I took a deep breath. There would be no accommodation. This was my chance not just to escape, but to rewrite the narrative. Hunted By The Ones I Loved: A PMC's Reckoning
Romance My name was Alex Mason, a PMC operator, and I thought I had it all: a thriving career, a top-tier team, and a beautiful fiancée, Sophia.
But a mission gone sideways, thanks to my boss's arrogant son, ripped my world apart.
The day after I reported it, my entire identity, every safe house, my very existence, was auctioned off on the dark web for pocket change.
I went to Sophia, aching and bleeding, seeking refuge, only to overhear her on the phone, casually selling my real-time GPS coordinates and psychological profile like a cheap side hustle.
My blood ran cold, but the true horror was yet to come.
Weeks later, I woke up in a public hospital, a John Doe, my body broken.
Sophia and her brother Derek stood by my bed, feigning concern, after they had drugged me, delivered me to my enemies, and filmed my brutal public beating to sell for $9.99 online.
The woman I loved had not only betrayed me but profited from my utter humiliation.
Stripped of everything, my dignity shattered, I was utterly broken.
How could someone I was going to marry orchestrate such a monstrous act?
Why did she want me destroyed, broadcasted for the world to see?
They wanted Alex Mason dead, and that' s exactly what happened.
My true identity buried, I emerged from the ashes of my old life.
Under a new name, Ben Carter, I' m building a life I never thought possible, and this time, I won't just survive; I'll reclaim everything they stole. Building My Own Empire
Romance The Travis County Courthouse air felt thick with possibility, or maybe just anticipation.
I stood beside Eleanor, ready to get our marriage license, imagining a new life, our life, about to begin.
Then her phone buzzed, an email cracking her perfectly calm facade.
Her voice thin, she announced her protégé David was in professional meltdown, demanding her immediate presence.
Just like that, she left me standing there, marriage license application in hand, and walked away.
Minutes later, a text arrived: a confession of an affair with David, a secret pregnancy, and her audacious offer to raise their child as ours.
But the humiliation deepened when I returned home to find them intimately entwined on our sofa.
As I packed my bags, a video arrived on my phone: Eleanor, with a sneering smile, calling me "unambitious" and "boring," a mere "means to an end."
The betrayal hit like a physical blow, curdling into hot, sharp rage.
Was this who she truly was?
Had our entire relationship been a calculated charade, and I, Michael Thompson, just a pawn in her ambitious scheme?
The depth of their cruelty was staggering.
Broken, humiliated, and operating on pure adrenaline, I scrolled through my phone, pausing on Sarah Chen's name.
"Marry me," I blurted, a desperate, defiant plea.
And in a surprising twist, she said yes, igniting an unexpected path forward. For My Legacy, I Was Thrown to the Sharks
Mafia I woke up in my penthouse suite, the morning sun streaming through the windows, glinting off crystal.
Today was my 25th birthday, the day I, Ava Corleone, was finally to be named the rightful heir of our powerful family.
Then a chilling memory flashed through my mind: the freezing Hudson River, water filling my lungs, the taste of betrayal.
My brother Marco, fiancé Alexander, and loyal protector Rick, all standing by as the maid, Katherine, wore my irreplaceable family tiara.
They'd told me I was a target, that Katherine was a decoy for my safety.
I’d believed their lies, only to discover their true alliance, their poisoned smiles, and the brutal order from my mother's most trusted man, Antonio Perez, to break my limbs, starve me, and cast me into the river.
The betrayal was absolute, a calculated move by those closest to me to seize my legacy.
How could they erase years of loyalty for a common maid?
My heart burned not with sorrow, but with a fierce, cold rage at the profound injustice.
But this time, I was back.
The same day, the same party, the same betrayal waiting.
I carried the full memory of their treachery, and I would not be fooled again.
As Rick reached to offer Katherine *my* ring, I launched a clean, powerful kick.
No. Not this time.
This time, I fight back. You might like
Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers
Kleon Samorodnitsky After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken." Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?
Mia Caldwell In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end.
Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced.
This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak.
Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely.
Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings? Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now
Theodora Birnir The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life.
To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers.
When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance.
Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?"
Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling." 
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