Yanchi Jinzhan
9 Published Stories
Yanchi Jinzhan's Books and Stories
No Longer Their Fool
Sci-fi The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. Then came the screams, the smell of smoke, the fire. My body moved to save Chloe, a reflex from a past life I shouldn't remember, a life where her disgust and obsession with her childhood crush, Ethan, had led to my suicide. But then the cruel memories flooded back: Chloe, my girlfriend, reaching for Ethan Hayes amidst the chaos, screaming his name.
I tried to pull her away, but she shrieked, yanking free, choosing him. I let her go. Her mother publicly shamed me. Chloe and Ethan, now campus heroes, revelled in their 'tragic romance,' while my life became a living hell. Then came the bombshell: Ethan was my estranged father's illegitimate son, and they both waltzed into my exclusive robotics lab, orchestrated by him. They framed me, painted me as the jealous ex, leading to my suspension.
Why was history repeating, yet so much worse? I was the villain, they the victims, but I knew their twisted truth. Chloe's calculated manipulation, Ethan's cruel games, my father's puppetry – this wasn't just heartbreak; it was a setup designed to ruin me. My past life's pain was a shield now, a brutal teacher.
But they underestimated me. I'd been here before. This time, my eyes were wide open. A discreet security camera, a digital recorder-their every lie, their every malicious move, would be exposed. My life would be different. It had to be. I wouldn't be their fool again. The Price of Unwanted Love
Romance I fell in love with Michael, my adoptive uncle, after he took me in following my mother' s death and my father' s arrest. He was my entire world for a decade.
Then, at my adoptive grandfather's funeral, paparazzi caught us, fabricating an illicit affair that drove my godmother, Linda, to suicide.
To "atone," Michael married me, turning our home into a gilded cage. By day, I copied scriptures; by night, I was a nameless body in darkness. He forced eighteen abortions, the last nearly killing me. His voice, cold as ice, dismissed my dying plea for our baby.
He hated me. He blamed me for Linda' s death, and I, in my final moments, believed him. It was all my fault.
I woke up. It was the day of my adoptive grandfather' s funeral again. Not this time. This time, I wouldn' t be his hindrance, or the cause of his true love' s demise. I would ensure Linda and Michael had their happy ending, even if it meant my own ruin. Love, Lies, and a Platinum Card
Romance Olivia Clark, an art student, found paint a permanent part of her life, just like her love for Liam Harrison, a charming musician she believed was from modest means. She scrimped and saved every penny from multiple odd jobs, not for herself, but to buy him an expensive artificial cochlear implant for his supposed congenital hearing loss. Their love bloomed in a secret, dusty studio, a world known only to them.
But one night, while working a dishwashing shift, Olivia saw Liam flashing a platinum credit card, buying drinks for friends-a bill easily topping six figures. Then, from an adjacent room, she overheard a conversation that shattered her world: Liam was no struggling musician but a billionaire heir, using her as a pawn in a cruel game to make her wealthy friend Chloe jealous. The man she loved, the man for whom she sacrificed everything, was merely playing her.
The words, crude and mocking, hit her like a physical blow. They spoke of her as a "cheap piece of trash," a disposable "maid." Liam, silent, let them tear her down. Her hand, cut and bleeding, became a stark reflection of her internal wounds. The truth, once a blinding light, now felt like a draining life force.
How could she have been so blind? How could the man who whispered promises of marriage and a good life be so utterly heartless? Had his "love" always been a performance, a twisted game? The realization that he had seen her as nothing more than an insignificant extra, a freebie in his pursuit of Chloe, left her with a chilling emptiness.
With a newfound resolve, Olivia pulled out her phone. "I've made up my mind," she told her academic advisor, her voice firm. "I'm going to Europe." She was leaving, not just a place, but a past built on lies, ready to forge a new future, free from his deception. The Day The Elevator Broke
Romance The elevator jolted, groaned, and then stopped.
My breath hitched as the lights flickered and died, plunging me into absolute darkness and the icy grip of claustrophobia.
Frantic, I called my husband, David, for help, certain he' d be my rescuer.
Instead, his voice, impatient and dismissive, carried the faint sound of music and a woman' s laughter – Ashley, his young assistant.
"Look, Sarah, I can' t right now," he said, explaining he was taking Ashley, who was faking a cold, to get medicine.
He chose his assistant over his wife, gasping for air and pleading for help.
Then he hung up.
When I finally escaped the elevator an hour later, something broke inside me, but it wasn't my spirit.
That night, I watched him from the doorway, listening as he mocked me to his friends, assuring them I was dependent and would "come around."
The next day, a photo of him and Ashley, radiating false happiness, appeared on his social media, captioned, "So grateful for my ray of sunshine."
My colleagues whispered, friends called, but there was no anger, only a profound sense of release.
He saw me as pathetic and dependent, a puzzle he'd already solved, but he was wrong.
I packed my bags, every folded shirt a step away from him, and called the one person who still saw me as Sarah-bug.
"Can I come home?" I asked, tears of relief finally falling. The Scarf That Broke Us
Romance "Let' s get a divorce, Victoria."
It was our fifth wedding anniversary, and for the ninety-ninth time, I heard those flat, bored words from my wife, Victoria, as she dismissed me for real estate analytics on her tablet.
But then, she lowered the tablet, her beautiful, cold face mocking me: "Besides, I can' t leave you right now. I' ve been poisoned."
She claimed a "love charm" from Thailand made her obsessed with her assistant, Ryan, who was the only one who could "cure" her.
She then presented me with an absurdly expensive watch for our anniversary, a symbol of "loyalty," before calmly asking me to move out so Ryan could move in for his "treatment."
Then, I saw it: my late mother' s cherished cashmere scarf, a symbol of my last tender memory, wrapped smugly around Ryan' s neck.
It was the final cut, twisting the knife in a wound I thought was numb.
"No," I said, the word startling even myself.
I walked into a gleaming skyscraper, ready to resign, only to be told Victoria' s signature was required.
She made me kneel in a crowded, high-end restaurant, forcing me to publicly declare I wasn' t good enough for her, just to sign my resignation.
I did it.
I walked out feeling nothing but a grim sense of victory, clutching the signed paper.
Then, the world shattered when news reports surfaced, not from my new life, but of her erratic behavior, even assaulting someone who spoke ill of me.
My phone rang, "Northwood Police Department."
Victoria had filed a missing person' s report.
She had found me.
"She' s on her way to your office now, sir," the officer said, "We' re sending a car over as a precaution, just to keep the peace."
My new life, so carefully built, was crumbling before my eyes because Victoria couldn' t stand to lose control.
What would I do? The Blacklisted Boyfriend
Romance The sharp sound of a key in my own front door jolted me awake on Thanksgiving night.
It wasn't my key, and it certainly wasn't my hand.
My boyfriend Matthew' s mother burst in, unleashing a tirade about me not cooking Thanksgiving dinner, followed by Matthew himself, reeking of alcohol.
Instead of intervening, Matthew demanded an apology from me, then shockingly slapped me across the face.
He proceeded to violently drag me by my hair, throwing me out of my own apartment and deadbolting the door.
When the police arrived, Matthew and his mother effortlessly played the victims, painting me as an unstable, dramatic girlfriend.
He then cornered me, his face inches from mine, threatening to ruin my career if I dared to show the security footage of his abuse.
The officers, buying their act hook, line, and sinker, dismissed it as a "family dispute," leaving me alone, violated, and trapped with my abusers while they smirked in victory.
Bruised, humiliated, and utterly betrayed, trapped in my apartment with the very man who just assaulted me, I knew I had to escape this nightmare.
That' s when I decided, the moment I get out, I would call the only person who could truly help me: my father, Harrison Johns. When Family Betrays: A Scholarship Stolen
Modern Sarah Miller, a struggling widow in a dying Rust Belt town, clung to one fragile hope: her brilliant daughter Lily's full-ride STEM scholarship to Caltech.
It was their ticket out, a future her late war hero husband, David, would have wanted.
Then, David' s seemingly helpful brother, Rich-a man Sarah always mistrusted-offered to "streamline" Lily' s scholarship application process.
But instead of the acceptance Lily deserved, a thin rejection letter arrived, quickly followed by a public announcement: Rich' s academically mediocre stepson, Chad, had won the exact same prestigious scholarship.
When Sarah confronted Rich at his lavish party, he sneered, publicly shaming Lily and accusing Sarah of seeking handouts.
In a vile display, he snatched David's revered Distinguished Service Cross, flinging it to the ground where it shattered, scattering the emblems of her husband's ultimate sacrifice like garbage.
As Chad mocked Lily with his acceptance letter, Sarah' s grief turned to a cold, burning rage.
This wasn't just about a stolen scholarship; it was a desecration, a profound insult to David' s honor and Lily' s future.
How could family betray them so cruelly?
Then, a forgotten memory resurfaced: David' s words, "If you ever face an injustice so great, contact General Peterson. He' ll remember me. He' ll help."
Clutching David's broken medals, Sarah told Lily, "Pack a bag. We' re going to Washington."
Their fight for justice had just begun. My Amnesia Prank: His Betrayal, My True Love
Romance A minor car crash on the way home, just a fender bender, and that's when a wild idea sparked in my mind.
I decided to prank my boyfriend, Michael, by feigning amnesia.
"And who are you?" I asked, feigning confusion, waiting for him to play along.
Instead, his charming smile faltered, replaced by a calculating glint I'd never seen.
He pulled out his phone, dialed his friend Alex, and whispered, "Sarah hit her head. She' s got amnesia. You're Liam, her boyfriend. I'm Mark, your best friend."
My breath hitched.
Then, I overheard him lower his voice, "Tiffany's already texting me. She' s so much less drama than Sarah, so high-maintenance."
My heart hammered with a sickening lurch.
I was just a discarded game piece, a convenient escape for him to run off with my own sorority sister.
His betrayal was swift and brutal, a public humiliation he orchestrated with chilling ease.
But as I played along, Michael' s supposed "pawn," Alex, treated me with an unexpected, gentle kindness that completely contradicted everything Michael had said.
He didn't act like someone who found me boring.
He saw me, defended me, and his eyes held a depth Michael' s never had.
Was this simply a cruel charade, or was there an unexpected truth hidden within this deception?
They thought I was a puppet, easily manipulated and rendered clueless.
They had no idea.
If Michael wanted to play a game, I decided then and there, I would play too – but by my rules, and I would expose every single one of their lies. You might like
No Longer Sponsored
Yuan Xiluo My full scholarship to Princeton had just arrived, a bright promise of four years alongside Chloe and Maya, the girls my family had sponsored since childhood, whom I saw as my own sisters.
But their smiles shattered when they announced their "dream" was deferring Princeton to follow a delinquent quarterback named Jake to South Valley State.
My phone, unsettlingly prophetic, flashed a dire warning: block them, and they'd sabotage my Ivy League future; soon, I realized their "love" was a cold calculation to use my family's wealth for Jake, leading me to secretly cut their financial ties, a move that spiraled into them physically attacking me before Jake shoved me into the path of my parents' arriving car.
As my bones shattered and I lay bleeding, the ultimate betrayal wasn't just the physical pain, but the chilling realization that the girls I'd always protected were capable of such ruthless manipulation.
Now, with my parents suddenly witnessing their true colors and my own future hanging by a thread, those "sisters" would learn that their carefully orchestrated scheme had just triggered their own spectacular downfall. The Billionaire's Blueprint
Double Dee One night. One mistake. One billionaire who won't let her walk away.
When Bella Bluefield agrees to a spontaneous night out, she never expects to wake up next to Xavier Louis - the cold, ruthless CEO of LV Group with a reputation as unbreakable as his empire. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. But weeks later, when she shows up at his office for a job interview... their worlds collide.
And then she drops a bombshell:
"I'm pregnant, sir."
What starts as an impossible situation spirals into a high-stakes war of secrets, sabotage, and shattered loyalties. With powerful enemies closing in - including Bella's own manipulative mother - and a multi-billion-dollar scandal threatening Xavier's legacy, the line between business and desire begins to blur.
As love ignites, betrayal strikes - and someone wants Bella silenced.
Forever.
In a world where every choice could cost them everything, Bella must decide if she's strong enough to fight for her child, her truth... and the man who just might break her heart.
The Apocalypse Architect: Designing His Demise
Lan Zixin The phantom chill of icy water jolted me awake, but I wasn' t drowning in Lake Champlain;
I was safe in my luxurious Boston apartment.
My fiancé, Matthew, and his mother stood over my bed, demanding I sign papers to dissolve our shared assets, claiming it was just a formality.
But I recognized this moment, a chilling deja vu-I had been reborn just thirty days before "The Great Silence."
In my last life, this conversation ended with me refusing, crying, feeling utterly betrayed and abandoned.
I remembered how he' d later abandon me to monstrous creatures, using me as a decoy for his pregnant mistress.
This time, there were no tears, only a cold, hard resolve.
I signed away everything we had built, but my enemies didn't realize they were signing their own death warrants. My plan wasn't just to survive the coming apocalypse, but to exact a ruthless, quiet revenge.
I walked out, leaving Matthew clueless, carrying his driver's license-a silent weapon.
I drove north to my reclusive father's fortified compound, desperate to warn him and bring my Army Ranger brother home before the world went silent.
Days later, Matthew called, desperate and alone, his mother and mistress gone.
He begged for help, but I sent him to a decoy cabin, tracked by a hidden camera. Watching him stumble in, not alone as promised, I saw his true nature.
The ensuing fight drew creatures, and he resorted to a horrifying act of self-mutilation to survive.
He eventually found our true haven, using a child as bait to draw the creatures to our gate. But I had one last, silent trick up my sleeve, linked to his greed and his pride.
With a single click, Matthew's old smartphone became his personal alarm, a blaring siren in a world that hunted by sound.
His end was swift, brutal, and orchestrated by me. We rescued the traumatized child, Elyse, a silent victim like my own brother, Andrew, who had also mutilated himself to save innocents.
Our fortress became a home, a sanctuary of silence and love, as we rebuilt a new family from the ashes of the old world.
We became protectors, finding purpose and happiness not in spoken words, but in the enduring strength of our bond. The Last Call: From Star to Scapegoat
Zhi Yao My life was a blueprint for success.
Ethan Miller, a rising star in architecture, about to claim the American Horizon Architectural Prize, surrounded by my loving sister Ashley, my beautiful fiancée Victoria, and even my adopted brother Jason.
But one call, one dark warehouse, shattered it all.
Ambushed, my hands crushed, my career obliterated, I woke to a nightmare.
My own sister and fiancée, the women I trusted most, confessed to orchestrating the brutal attack to clear the path for Jason’s success.
They abandoned me in an earthquake, then left me for dead on an exploding yacht, all while publicly slandering my name to cover their tracks.
The betrayal was a pain far deeper than any broken bone, a horrifying injustice that twisted my soul.
Why them? Why Jason? Why this absolute destruction of my life?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, a mysterious offer emerged: "reforging" through Phoenix BioGenesis.
I accepted, not for healing, but for a chilling rebirth, returning as a ghost of my former self, a silent observer ready to meticulously dismantle the lives of those who thought they had won.
This time, the masterpiece would be my revenge. Betrayal's Echo: A Wife's Revenge
Huang Xiaohuai Dr. Evelyn Reed had finally done it.
Three years of relentless work, the neural interface cure for her paralyzed husband, Ethan, was a success.
A triumphant smile touched her lips as she reached for her phone to share the life-changing news.
But an email caught her eye, a cheerful invitation that turned her world to ice.
"Dr. Ethan Vance and Miss Tiffany Reed request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage."
Ethan. Her husband. Tiffany. Her own niece.
It was a sick joke, a complete error, yet the high-end Parisian wedding agency confirmed its legitimacy.
Her joy evaporated, replaced by a cold dread as she drove through the night, a ghost to a celebration she was never meant to see.
She saw him there, standing, whole, laughing, with Tiffany tucked into his arm, radiant in white.
He kissed her, a tender kiss meant for the world to see, and Evelyn' s world tilted off its axis.
Then she heard them talking, overheard their cruel confessions: he had always loved Tiffany, while Evelyn was merely "a necessary step," "a convenient solution."
The man she had sacrificed everything for, the man who had promised his undying love, had been betraying her for two years with her own blood.
The pain of betrayal, the hollowness of her sacrifice, the absolute injustice of it all, left her hollowed out, empty of tears.
She watched him walk away from her in the hospital, choosing Tiffany, right after a fire, right after she found out a bomb, orchestrated by Tiffany, nearly killed her.
This wasn't a love triangle; it was a war, and she was losing.
Driven by a quiet, ice-cold resolve, Evelyn began to fight back. Stolen Code, Broken Heart, Fierce Comeback
Gu Mumu The flickering TV in my dingy motel room was the only light, illuminating the peeling wallpaper.
On screen, Ethan Vance, my ex-fiancé, smiled his perfect, camera-ready smile, touting 'EvolveAI' and his "future-defining" Prometheus algorithm.
Reporters swarmed him; he was the king of Silicon Valley, the brilliant mind behind the world' s most advanced AI.
My world. My code. My future. He had stolen it all. Everything.
I remembered the day he left, his eyes cold and empty, my three years of coding on a hard drive in his bag, a venomous "You were always just… holding me back."
He didn't just take the code; he took my savings, my reputation, blacklisting me from an industry I helped build, all while Bethany Cole, my best friend, stood arm-in-arm with him, eyes gleaming with triumph.
They left me with nothing but eviction notices, forcing me to sell everything I owned, living as a ghost under pseudonyms, cleaning up security flaws for companies that would never hire Scarlett Hayes.
The pain of that betrayal was a constant, suffocating darkness, a deep pit I couldn' t climb out of, trapped by unseen enemies and their whispers of my failure.
But watching him on that screen, basking in my stolen glory, a cold, sharp rage began to burn through the despair.
In that cheap motel, I swore a vow: I would get justice, I would take back what was mine, and he would not build his empire on my ruins.
My chance came weeks later: a vulnerability in his IPO network led me to a familiar digital signature-a back door I'd built into 'Prometheus,' a failsafe only I knew. He was arrogant, so certain he' d erased me he never looked for the ghost I' d left behind.
He was on the verge of becoming a billionaire. And I had the key to his kingdom.
A slow smile spread across my face. The game wasn't over. It had just begun. I wasn't going to be a victim. I was the storm he never saw coming. I would let him climb to the peak of his triumph. And then, I would burn it all to the ground. Lost Time, Found Love: Ava’s Return
Rum Runner The first thing I felt was the slow, steady beep of a machine.
I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling, definitely not my bedroom.
A nurse rushed in, dropping her clipboard, whispering, "She' s awake!"
Then a doctor: "Mrs. Hayes? Ava? Can you tell me your name?"
"Ava Reed... Ava Hayes."
"And the year?"
"2023. It' s October."
Their pitying looks made my skin crawl. "Ava," the doctor said gently, "It' s not 2023."
He pointed to a digital screen: July 12, 2038.
Fifteen years. Gone. Just like that.
The car crash that felt like yesterday had apparently happened a decade and a half ago.
My Lily, my four-year-old daughter, would be nineteen.
My husband, Ethan…
I called him, desperate, finding his contact on a sleek, alien device.
A voice answered, but it wasn' t his. It was cold, hollow.
"Who is this?"
"Ethan? It' s me. It' s Ava."
Then, a harsh, bitter laugh. "My wife is dead. She died fifteen years ago. Don' t you dare use her name again."
He was about to hang up.
"The scar!" I screamed, "Under your left rib, from Miller' s Peak! And Lily… she called her bear 'Sir Reginald Fluffen-Bottom' !"
Silence on the line. Then a whisper: "How… how do you know that?"
Who was this stranger on the phone? What had happened to my life, my family?
I was Ava Reed, a woman robbed of fifteen years.
"Because I am your wife, you idiot. Oceanville General, Room 304. Ten minutes."
I hung up, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach.
Ethan never showed. Instead, a slick lawyer offered me a hotel, a car, a credit card.
I took the car.
My daughter. Lily. 
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