Xiu Guo
2 Published Stories
Xiu Guo's Books and Stories
The Immortal Emperor Returns
Modern A lifetime ago, Chu Xun was shackled and thrown in jail on false charges. For three whole years, he suffered extraordinary torment from his cellmates every day. Even though he had escaped death many times, he still died from his cellmates' fists the day before he was to be released. After death, Chu Xun transmigrated to a different world of cultivation, where cultivation was the one true path. Carrying the weight of his hatred, Chu Xun began to cultivate in hopes of becoming an Immortal Emperor, who could manipulate heaven and earth and travel through time. After painstaking cultivation of three thousand years, he succeeded. Then he sacrificed all his cultivation without hesitation and returned to the day before he was to be released. This life, he wanted to find out the truth and the one behind his murder in last life. He would continue to cultivate and strengthen himself so that the tragedy would not repeat itself. He wanted to master his own destiny. In this life, what people would Chu Xun encounter and what experience of love and hate would he have with them? What difficulties would he encounter and how would he overcome? The answer is the book. You might like
Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Fritz Heaney I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."