Healing Hands and Avenging Wife

200K

The wedding march played as he held her hand, vowing to stay together till their hair turned white. Guests raised their glasses, camera flashes blooming like a sea of stars. I sat in the front row, dressed in a simple white gown—like a ghost who never should have returned. Then the officiant asked, “Do you take Lin Chengyu as your husband?” I slowly rose. My voice wasn’t loud, yet it cut through the entire hall— “He cannot marry.” Gasps erupted. Lin Chengyu’s face twisted in shock. “Are you insane?! We’re already divorced!” I removed my sunglasses, revealing eyes once blinded by his hands—eyes that had miraculously regained sight. “You said you were cured. Three years of impotence, and suddenly you’re healed—just in time to marry a new lover?” I unlocked my phone, playing a recording aloud— “Doctor… is there truly no hope for me?” “Mr. Lin, nerve damage is irreversible. I suggest you accept reality.” His own voice. His own confession. The bride froze, her trembling body barely held up by the wedding dress. And I? I merely brushed my fingers over the small silver needle pouch at my waist. “You thought rebirth would let you rewrite history, swap partners, and fool the world?” “But you forgot—” “In the last life, it was you on your knees, begging me to save you.” “It was my ancestral acupuncture that kept you alive for three more years.” “And how did you repay me? You used that so-called ‘recovery’ as leverage… and pushed me into a well.” Silence swallowed the room. I stepped toward him, fingertips lightly pressing his wrist pulse. Three seconds later, he coughed violently—a splash of blood staining his collar—and collapsed. As emergency cries broke out, I turned, eyes meeting the man standing by the door, holding an umbrella. The rain hadn’t stopped. He stood at the end of the red carpet, gaze deep as the ocean. A faint smile touched my lips as I declared to everyone: “In four days, I’ll marry him.” As for Lin Chengyu— “Don’t worry. I’ll heal you.” “But not now.” “I want you to watch with your own eyes as I become another man’s wife.” “Just as you made me watch, helpless, while you laughed and accepted marriage vows with someone else, calling me worthless.” Thunder cracked across the sky. I walked past his convulsing body in high heels, stepping over the grave of my past life. This time, I’m no longer discarded medicinal dregs. I am the one holding the scalpel. And I—am his reckoning. Reborn at her forced wedding, Shannon Young refuses her tragic end. She chooses to marry Arthur Xavier instead of Silas Shaw.With her innate gift for healing, she cures Arthur. Together, they face schemes from Lucia Frost and her own past.But in this new life, will her choice lead to salvation, or a different kind of ruin?

Expand

Publish：2025-11-20

You Might Like

My Sister’s Boyfriend Arrested Me

Retired Navy Admiral Arthur quietly returns home to see his governor sister Eleanor, but on the interstate, Police Chief Gavin and his sister Vanessa brutally target him. To cover up their gang ties and hunt for ledgers, they frame Arthur, destroy his ID and mother's photo, and beat him near death. At the last moment, Eleanor arrives—about to reveal who he truly is.

I Am the Prey of Three Alphas

Exiled to a ruthless werewolf academy for being a weak, pack-shaming Beta, Finn accidentally crosses three top-tier Alpha predators. The ultimate twist? All three are bound to him as his fated mates! Between the cold Chris, gentle Simon, and playful Neal... who is his true destiny?,

Lost Your Luna? Meet Your Queen!

Blackstone Luna Elara is betrayed by husband Damon and stepsister Selene, poisoned, stripped of her mark, and framed for treason. Left to die, she meets Northern princess Edith, who gives her blood-mark, ring, and identity. As Princess Edith, Elara returns to reclaim the North.

Double-marked: Luna's Revenge

Luna Talia gave everything to protect her husband, Carter, but he secretly marked Ellie. Manipulated by Ellie's scheme, he stuffed her in a sack, and tortured her without mercy. Clinging to her last breath, Talia rejected him and left behind a moonstone necklace carrying the truth… and a set of divorce papers. Then she walked away. For good., shortPlayLibraryIdRemark=LA875,

The True Cheer Queen Reclaims Her Stage

The delivery room lights were harsh and white—like a blade slicing through every illusion of warmth. She held the twins—one swaddled in pink-and-blue striped fabric, the other hastily carried away by a nurse who said, “To neonatology for observation.” No one heard the faint, brittle laugh that rose from her throat. Seventeen years without tears. Seventeen years she’d melted her “Cheer Queen” crown into a dagger, turned cheer chants into incantations, and laced every smile with poison—waiting for this day. Madison Carter ripped off her third audition outfit in the changing room. The varsity uniform was too tight—waistband biting into skin, cuffs frayed, shoulder patches faded to dull gray. Her mother had locked the new uniform in a safe last night: “You don’t deserve that spot, Madison. You don’t even know your father’s name.” Yet when she stormed onto the stage on broken stilettos—her skirt stitched from old team gear, her waist chain strung with pearls pried from her mother’s wedding gown, her hair pulled back crookedly, sweat dripping from her jaw into the glare of the spotlight— The music erupted. She flipped backward, landed hard, knees scraping raw—but lifted her chin, laughing like fire given voice. The judges sat frozen. Then the head judge removed his glasses, voice trembling: “*That’s*… real cheer spirit.” Before the words fully settled— A shattering scream tore through the audience. Victoria Orlando—Liv Orlando’s mother, partner at a top-tier law firm, famed for icy precision—shot upright. Her hands shook so violently she dropped her champagne flute. Golden liquid splashed across her limited-edition Hermès scarf, leaving a jagged, weeping stain. Her eyes locked onto the crimson mole at Madison’s throat—the *exact* match marked on the yellowed prenatal record buried deepest in her safe. And just as every camera in the arena swung wildly toward the ruptured mother-daughter pair— In the labor ward’s surveillance room, the final black screen flickered awake. The footage showed a snow-choked night, seventeen years ago. A nurse pushed an infant cart down the corridor. Inside lay a newborn girl, a silver bell tied to her ankle. The camera drifted slowly downward— Engraved inside the bell, two lines of microscopic script: **“M.D. —— MOTHER’S DEBT.”** **“L.O. —— LIE’S OWN.”** In the bottom-right corner, the timestamp pulsed: **00:00:01** —The countdown had just begun.

Kissing the Wrong Brother

Champagne flutes shimmered along the poolside, refracting shards of light. Aria’s earrings swung—so sharply they made my heart skip. Truth or Dare—she’d drawn “Kiss the person you most want to kiss right now.” The crowd roared. Glasses clinked. Laughter scraped like broken glass against my eardrums. She didn’t look at Miles. Instead, her gaze flickered instinctively toward Ben, slouched alone in the corner of the sofa. But Miles already had her wrist in his grip—his fingers burning hot. “Rules are rules.” She jerked back. Her heel slipped. Her ankle struck the ice bucket—*clatter-shatter*—ice exploding across the marble floor. That’s when Ben stood up. Not walked. *Stood.* He kicked over the entire long table—silver platters crashed, candlesticks toppled, flames licking hungrily up the cascading white chiffon drapes. In the blaze, he lunged forward, seized Miles by the collar of his shirt, knuckles white as bone: “The day you got fired? I buried the footage—the one where you filmed people without consent. And *now*—you dare touch her?” Miles laughed—a wild, ragged, tear-choked laugh. “So what? She’s forgotten my name *three times*. Ben—you’re guarding a living Post-it note. What kind of hero is that?” Before the last word left his mouth, he snatched up an entire Black Forest cake and hurled it to the floor—chocolate and cream detonating like a miniature avalanche. Then he stepped back—twice—and dove headfirst into the pool. As water exploded skyward, Aria yanked off the silver chain Ben had given her—the one resting just above her collarbone—and crushed it tight in her fist until her nails broke skin. She didn’t chase Miles. She walked straight to Ben. Stopped one step away. Lifted her face. Her lashes still dusted with splattered frosting. “I can’t remember other people’s names,” she whispered—soft, but cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Because since I was sixteen… I’ve only ever practiced saying yours—*Ben. J. Carter.*” The wind stilled. Even the pool went silent—glass-smooth, mirror-still. Ben’s throat moved. Slowly, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across her chocolate-smeared lower lip. She closed her eyes. He kissed her. No hesitation. No testing. Just ten years of restraint—finally incinerating every dam, every silence, every unspoken thing—in one searing, unstoppable flame. Sirens wailed in the distance—growing louder. Someone screamed, “The fire’s spreading!” Another shouted, “Call an ambulance!”—but no one dared step closer. Because on the sofa, their shadows merged—deep, fused, sacred—like a newly finished icon painted in blood and sugar. And in Aria’s clenched palm, the silver chain grew warm—quietly, fiercely, alive.