Good Xianxia Novels

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

Lewis Gordon says he likes older women. Seeing that he's young, energetic, and good in bed, I agree to be his girlfriend. But when he runs into me with his friends while I'm dressed in business attire, he is stunned and doesn't know how to react. Then, he quickly introduces me. "She's just a neighbor like an auntie." What? Middle-aged? I immediately break up with him. He sends a clumsy explanation, "When you dress like a middle-aged woman, it's really embarrassing for me." I block him and don't bother replying. Five years later, I bring my son along to celebrate my husband's godfather's birthday. Lewis shows up, holding hands with his girlfriend. When he hears my son call Johann Tucker "Grandpa Johann," he pulls a long face. He blurts, "This is my son, right? He should be calling him great-grandfather." I shoot him a look of pure disgust. "He's not your son." Lewis points at my son's face and sneers, "Look at his eyes and his face. He looks exactly like me. How can you still insist he's not my son?" All I can think of is my extremely jealous husband. If he hears Lewis claiming that he's my son's father, will he go crazy and kill him?

On Christmas Day, my dad gave me a golden apple. My roommates gasped in envy and immediately demanded I treat them to a meal. I smiled and agreed. I told them to head out first and that I'd join them shortly. When I came out of the bathroom, the dorm was empty. Sharon Everton's laptop was still glowing. I walked over to shut it down. That's when a WhatsApp group named 'Anti-Gold Digger Alliance' popped up on the screen. [No wonder she didn't come back last night. Bet she spent the whole night escorting again just to get that golden apple!] [A designer bag the day before, a golden apple today. With how many men she's serving every day, I wonder how wrecked she is down there.] [We have to hit her with a big bill today. Her money's dirty anyway. Spending it for her is basically doing a good deed!] There were four people in the dorm. Three of them were in that group chat. There was no doubt that they were talking about me. The friends I'd treated with genuine kindness all this time turned out to be ungrateful snakes.

Madison Hodge, my fiancee, thinks that weighing 160 pounds makes me too fat. So, I sign up for a gym membership and work out as much as I can. But the more I exercise, the more weight I put on. Meanwhile, Daniel Webb, a good buddy of mine, livestreams his supper every night. Despite feasting on the most calorie-rich food out there, not only does he not put on any weight, but he even loses ten pounds. As Madison rips into me for not losing any weight, I suddenly find myself able to hear the thoughts of my tabby cat, Furball. His mind goes, "Why are you so silly, Master? Daniel chose you as his target for the Weight Swapping System he has! No matter how many pounds you work off, it's Daniel who loses the weight. He's trying to ruin your life!" Feeling completely stunned, I turn to Daniel, only to see that he's staring at Madison with an affectionate gaze. Once again, I hear more of Furball's thoughts. "Daniel is hopelessly in love with that awful woman. Once he slims down, the two of them will start hooking up. They'll team up to take your life and live off your life insurance payout. They'll even enjoy their intimacy during your funeral!" Now that I know the truth, I simply let out a chuckle. Since this good buddy of mine loves losing weight so much, I'm sure he'll be extremely grateful to me if I make sure he weighs no more than 100 pounds, right?

When I was ten years old, I was kidnapped by some human traffickers, where I was sold to an old widow as her slave. She locked me up in a pig sty and had me solve all of my basic needs there, be it eating, drinking, or defecating. My life there was less than that of livestock. My parents never gave up on looking for me. They managed to save me when I was 17 years old. On the day I get reunited with them, my mom's eyes redden when she notices how skinny I've become. "Oh dear, just how much have you suffered, my child?" My dad just keeps slapping himself the whole time. "We're so sorry, Silas…" Even my younger brother reaches out, hoping to take me home. That's when I finally realize that I have a home now. In order to repay my family for their benevolence, I've laced their food with the most potent poison. That way, their deaths will be painless.

After my parents were killed in a territory war, I was taken in by Don Moretti, head of New York's most powerful crime family. I was the only civilian in a world of made men. For twenty years, I was raised alongside his twin heirs, Marco and Santino. Their protection and favor made me the envy of every aspiring mob wife in the city. But when I was finally ready to become a real part of the family, they both turned me down. Marco said, "I need to focus on expanding our territory first. I'm not ready for this kind of commitment." Santino said, "An outsider can't be trusted with family secrets." The next night, at my birthday celebration, they both proposed to the daughter of a low-level enforcer. To prove their loyalty to her, they let her force me to drink "The Don's Fire"—a 150-proof grappa laced with ghost peppers that would hospitalize anyone who wasn't raised on it since childhood. Broken in body and spirit, I made a call from my hospital bed. "I accept the proposal from the Luciano Syndicate."

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

On our anniversary, my husband, James Marshall, purchased a painting as a gift for me with my secondary credit card. When I got home, I went to my study to retrieve an urgent court document. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, I could hear the flirtatious voice of my assistant, Julie Summers, mingled with my husband’s low murmurs. “James, your wife is just a money-printing machine. What does she know about art? She could never appreciate you like I do.” James sighed. Then, in an indulgent tone, he said, “Claire is too perfect—so perfect it’s suffocating. Not like you, full of life and warmth.” Just then, my mother-in-law, Susan Marshall, called James. He put her on speakerphone. “James, you need to move faster. While Claire still trusts you, turn all her client contacts into yours. That Julie girl seems promising. She’s much easier to control than that iron-fisted career wife of yours.” I gripped the cold doorknob, listening to the pair of shameless lovers in the study and the wretched woman on the phone, and immediately drafted a divorce agreement. At the same time, I forwarded asset-protection filings for all my holdings to my legal team. “I’ll see you all in court, parasites.”

During our decade together, I stay by Felix Valentino's side as he slowly ascends to the peak of the mafia world. I become the woman he trusts most. However, he secretly names an island that we fought for and won together after my best friend, Lilian Fenati. Why? Because Lilian is terminally ill. Her dying wish is to marry Felix on the island named after her. Felix clamps down on this and forbids anyone from telling me. He has no idea Lilian live streams the whole thing for me. That night, I cry my heart out. Meanwhile, Felix spends the night with Lilian. I lie in a pool of blood. My heart condition acts up, and my breathing starts to slow. Where is Felix? At the hospital with Lilian. Five days later, I accept a marriage proposal from Harold Bonanno, the mafia king.

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and smashed it on my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."