I could not put this story down. it was well written, intriguing, brilliant way you wove the characters stories together, and just the right amount of suspense.
please update...
Interesting story the author wants us to feel sorry him. I’m sorry he raped her. I don’t feel sore for him
Such a great read! Love the flow of the book, the plot, the twists, and i really appreciate a strong heroine. Thank you author! Cant wait for the next book of this series!
so far so good, can wait to see how she gets to know where or what she is !
Amazing story ??
can you please write the sequel of your other story??
all 4 of the main characters are sinners. they are same more or less.
Please update
The story is Too short
I love this author, more updates author.
The opening scene of this chapter is absolutely cinematic. Let me paint it for you: Mother Nie is waiting, the hours drag on, it starts raining, and she grabs a conical hat and paper parasol to go looking for her daughter. She arrives at the Prefectural Academy soaked to the skin. The image of this woman splashing through puddles in the rain, desperate and disheveled, while Mother Song sits at home completely unconcerned—that contrast is devastating. Then there's the clinic scene. Qinghe lying unconscious at the doorstep, covered in mud, her eyes swollen like peaches, her hair like "muddy, rotting straw." The clinic mistress describes how she had to help clean her up, and the detail that Qinghe's face was clean while her body was covered in mud is such a specific, visual clue that it does double duty: it tells us someone carried her there, and it paints this haunting image of a girl who fell into a pit but was rescued before the mud could reach her face. The worldbuilding here is woven into the physical details. The social hierarchy is embedded in the setting—the Prefectural Academy where Song Qingyuan studies, the clinic in the south of the city, the stone basin where Qinghe washes her face, the Niangniang Temple where Mother Nie plans to kowtow. Every location carries weight. The south of the city keeps coming up, and I get the sense it's becoming a symbolic space—where Qinghe goes when she's vulnerable, where she falls, where she's saved. The steamed egg custard scene is another moment of quiet domestic beauty. Mother Nie overcooked it, it's dry and unappealing, but Qinghe eats it with relish and offers to share. That's the kind of detail that makes a story feel lived-in. It's not about grand settings; it's about a mother's imperfect love expressed through a bowl of eggs.