Flat Asian Face Novels & Stories

I am a firefighter. A beam crashes onto me in the middle of a burning building. At the same time, my oxygen is about to run out. I writhe and struggle as much as I can to reach for my backup oxygen canister, only to feel my fingers brushing over a bottle of water instead. When I turn around, I see my wife, Leah Sawyer, giving the last backup oxygen canister to her new mentee, Roderick Wyndham. I begin calling out to her via a walkie-talkie. "Leah, I'm being pinned down right now, and my oxygen's running out! Where is the oxygen canister?" As Leah shields Roderick behind her, she replies impatiently, "I've already given it to Roderick. It's his first time inside a burning building, so he's frightened. Having an extra canister on him gives him a sense of security. "You're already a veteran firefighter, so you can just think up a way to resolve your situation. Don't go around wasting precious resources." I can feel thick smoke infiltrating my lungs at that moment. Feelings of asphyxiation soon overwhelm me. "My leg is broken, so I can't move at all! Without oxygen, I won't be able to hold out till I get rescued!" But Leah merely chortles in response. "Stop playing the pity card! Every time we're out on a mission, you're always the cowardly one who's terrified of dying! You have zero sense of dedication at all! I shouldn't have let you join the firefighting squad, to begin with! "What's the use of you clinging to the equipment? Giving it to the newbies is the best way of maximizing its value!" I can only smile bitterly in response. Using what's left of my strength, I switch to a public channel and begin reporting to the command center. "For the record, Captain Leah Sawyer deliberately tampered with the essential rescue equipment in order to protect Roderick Wyndham, causing me, a fellow firefighter, to be trapped in a deadly situation. "I hereby request the immediate activation of the Firefighter Emergency Evacuation Act. Also, I formally charge Leah with gross negligence and attempted homicide."

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."

Three years ago, she was a poor judge of character. She was willing to donate her kidney and become disfigured for an a**hole. However, not only did that man cheat on her, he had even nearly caused her to lose her life!Three years later, she regained her beauty. Upon her glorious return, she swore to make all a**holes pay for what they did.It was widely known that Stanley Batton, the wealthiest tycoon in Atlantis, was a cruel man feared by many. Although he had the facial features of a passionate man, he was known for his heart of ice.People constantly speculated on the kind of woman who would be able to open his heart.However, to everyone’s surprise, he kneeled on one knee under the spotlight, and in front of every known media company, to tie a butterfly knot on her shoe.“Stanley Batton, what do you really want?” She seemed panicked and flustered.He laughed at himself. “Xyla Quest, no one else but you can take my life away!”

At my wedding, my CEO wife's male assistant stood up in front of everyone and publicly presented a "year-end report" on their nights together. "Big thanks to Adam for your generosity. Over the past year, your wife and I tried 500 different positions. I successfully earned a 500-thousand-dollar year-end bonus and the right to the wedding night. "Adam, you should keep working hard. Don't feel too bad about only getting a one-dollar 'encouragement award.' "And thank you to all our friends and family for acknowledging me. Tonight, on our wedding night, I'll make sure Julie is thoroughly satisfied." The room fell into a suffocating silence. Even my mother-in-law—who always claimed to love me like her own son—said nothing. Seeing how pale I'd gone, Julie Black spoke with brutal honesty. "I accidentally got pregnant. The guy felt insecure and insisted on coming to the wedding, so I agreed. I was the one who crossed the line. I have to take responsibility." My heart sank into an icy abyss. Only then did I understand the meaning behind the one-dollar "encouragement bonus" Julie had transferred to me the night before. Staring at my wife's unfamiliar face, I made up my mind: I didn't want her anymore.

I've just left the washroom when Vanessa Shallow, who has just returned from her maternity leave, covers her mouth as she laughs at me. "Wow, you really are quick when it comes to bathroom breaks, huh? No wonder your sales performance is increasing by leaps and bounds! I suppose it's all thanks to your ability to take off your pants very quickly!" Vanessa acts as though she's joking as she starts making faces at the male colleagues around us. "Right, I forgot how prideful young ladies are nowadays! They can't seem to accept such truths when spoken in such a blunt manner!" The colleagues burst out laughing in a lecherous way afterward. Their perverted gazes keep clinging to my legs the whole time. As I stare at Vanessa's slightly bloated face, my gaze grows cold. It seems that she's so anxious to get her position as the project leader back that she's willing to shed even her sense of shame and propriety. I take a step forward and speak up. "I'm not as skilled as you are when it comes to such things, Vanessa. After all, not everyone is capable of making Mr. Studdard visit their home every midnight during their maternity leave." As soon as my words fall, the previously rowdy office goes deathly silent.

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.

On my eighth Mate-Marking anniversary, I had carefully prepared a special celebration ceremony. My Alpha mate, Derek, told me the pack had an emergency and the ceremony was canceled. When I arrived at the venue, I was shocked to see the ceremony proceeding as planned. Scarlett, once my best friend, was walking hand-in-hand with Derek onto the ceremonial platform. Her daughter and my son were being led by their hands, one child with each adult. The four of them stood closely together while other pack members, unaware of the truth, praised them: "The Alpha of Shadow Pack and his mate look so happy together." I stood up in the crowd and applauded: "I didn't know Shadow Pack had replaced their Luna with an Omega. They make such a perfect couple." The next moment, Scarlett's face turned pale as she collapsed on the platform. I ignored the chaos and walked straight home. The following day, Derek stormed back home and confronted me: "Scarlett's condition has barely improved. Why did you have to provoke her?" My son pushed me and accused: "It's all your fault! You made little Emma cry!" I pulled out the mate-bond dissolution agreement and threw it in their faces: "Yes, it's my fault. So I'm stepping out. Now you four can be one happy family." But my mate and son suddenly began to panic.

Vivian was wheeled out of the delivery room for the third time after a massive hemorrhage. The baby was stillborn. The doctor told her that her womb had been damaged by too many pregnancies. She would never carry another child. Numb and hollowed out, Vivian dragged herself toward the morgue to see her baby one last time, and that was when she saw her husband Ethan standing in the corridor, talking quietly to one of his men. "Don, your wife's baby was a perfect marrow match again. One more extraction and Claire's son will be cured." Vivian froze mid-step, every nerve in her body going still. Then came Ethan's voice, light and almost amused, and it shattered something she didn't know was still whole. His man hesitated, something pained moving across his face,"If Claire's boy pulls through, then losing those three kids was worth it." "Don, if the Donna ever finds out what really happened to those babies…" A cold shudder ran through Vivian, and her eyes locked on Ethan. But the curve of his mouth turned sharp, almost cruel. "She won't. I'll make it up to her, get her pregnant again with a healthy one this time. She'll be too busy with the baby to go digging." "And if she does find out, then what?" "Her mother gave her life for mine. That debt has chained me to her for ten years, and I can barely breathe under it. But now there's someone I actually want to protect. She has no right to stand in the way." Something softened in Ethan's face then, something Vivian had never seen turned toward her. "Claire was my brother's wife, and I'll never forget that he died protecting this family. So protecting his widow and his blood are our family’s and my duty." "She's the only person who's ever made me feel like a husband. Like a father." "I have to take care of her."

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

Emily Rosalyn Carter is a female prosecutor who is known to be cold-blooded among criminals and convicts in court. The most severe sentence demands are always the verdicts she submits to the judge so that she is nicknamed the guardian angel of the gates of hell by criminals. However, not many people know that behind Emily's cold attitude, she has many affairs with many men who take turns filling her love diary. Hot romance is Emily's choice to keep herself from losing her humanity when she has to face the cruelty of criminals in court. A hot, tense, and exciting story of the life of a single female prosecutor. Follow Emily's love journey with the men of her choice and the criminal cases she handles at the prosecutor's desk!