His Rui Novels & Stories

“Mom, what do you mean by–” is what she wanted to ask. However, her mother was too preoccupied with chatting with her friend, Rui. “So how are you and your husband, Rui?” Hillary asked. Rui carefully gathered her hair to place them on her shoulder before leaning on the chair. “We're still in our honeymoon phase so we're quite peaceful.” “Yeah… Newlyweds are like that. I'm sure that Phyllis and her future husband would be the same as well.”

The man put out his hands toward Chu Xun and said with a smile, "Nice to meet you. I'm Hua Qingwu's brother, Hua Rui." Chu Xun reached out his hand. However, just as he was about to reply, he suddenly felt something sting his finger. He looked down and saw a strangely-shaped ring on Hua Rui's fingers. A sharp light flashed within Chu Xun's eyes, but he still looked as calm as before.

This man was Rui Chang Hu and he was know as Master Rui, The Curse Prince. "I came here for business." Li Hua said right away. Rui Chang Hu gave her a knowing smile as he lifted his gaze, revealing the dark circle under his eyes. His eyes, combined with long hair that was tied into slightly messy pony tail, not to mention his slightly handsome looking, making Rui Chang Hu looked like a ghost prince instead. "Don't everyone all?" He replied, the knowing smile he had grew deeper. "What do you need? another Sacrifice Ritual?" "No. I want to curse someone to death. A girl named Ming Yue, she is a cursed child of D City." Li Hua explained, "She can see things that people can't and--"

“I am not nervous.” “Your hands are shaking.” I looked down. He was right. I shoved them into my pockets. He turned away, walked to the bathroom, and closed the door. I heard the shower turn on. I stood in the middle of the tiny, expensive studio, arms crossed tight over my chest, and tried to remember the last time I made a decision this stupid. I could not. Because I never had. Rian came out ten minutes later wearing a gray t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was wet, water dripping slowly down the sides of his neck and onto his shoulders, soaking the thin fabric until it clung to his chest.

“One minute she’s learning to skip rocks, the next she’s negotiating peace treaties.” James laughed. “She gets that from you.” “No,” I said. “She gets that from you. You’re the one who taught her that talking fixes things more than yelling does.” He didn’t say anything. Just pulled the blanket tighter around us. My phone buzzed. Paris. I almost ignored it. Then I answered. “Aria? We got the photos. The water marks—they’re stunning. The buyer wants the whole line. She says it looks like resilience you can wear.”

Dangerous men. The tension was thick—violence barely restrained. Jasmine felt the energy shift. Felt the weight of eyes on her. Felt the dominance in the air. But none of it compared to the presence of him. Jerald DeLuca. Pure Sicilian mafia royalty. He sat at the head of the table, his very posture exuding power. He wasn’t just a man—he was a force.

Doctor Chen's call arrived just over two weeks later, her voice carrying careful, measured excitement that immediately sharpened Elena's full attention. "I believe I've recovered a partial pattern," she said, without preamble. "The multispectral imaging revealed considerable ink variation beneath the deliberate concealment. I can't yet confirm a complete name, but I've identified what appears to be a partial surname, considerably shorter than any of the four confirmed founding family names." "What have you found," Elena asked, urgency sharpening her voice. "The letters R, O, and W are clearly visible," Doctor Chen said. "Followed by what might be additional letters, though the imaging hasn't

The one who haunted him. The woman who had once plotted his demise now carried his child. I had no words for the irony of that, nor did I want to try and define it. Some things were better felt than explained. The door creaked slightly, and I turned my head to see Ryu leaning against the frame, a lopsided grin stretching across his face. His hair was still damp from his shower, and water droplets clung to his collarbone. He looked like trouble and safety wrapped in one perfect contradiction.

Richard “Honey, why are you here?” May’s voice was sharp with surprise when I opened the bedroom door without knocking. “In my own home?” I replied smoothly, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “Checking on my wife. Is that so strange?” “What is this?” I pointed at the mark on her neck—a hickey, unmistakable and fresh. “Ah!” she gasped, immediately grabbing clothes from the bed to cover herself more completely. “It’s nothing, honey.” She tried to purr seductively, adding a blush for effect. “You must have seen wrong.”

Matteo shot to his feet, a wave of adrenaline and desperate hope washing over the paralyzing fear "Mr. Rossi?" I felt his throat close up. "How is he? Is he awake? Can I see him?" The questions tumbled out, urgent, needy, desperate for a normal answer. The surgeon finally looked me in the eye. He didn't rush his words. He didn't use a medical jargon. He just spoke the truth, simple and brutal. "Mr. Rossi... we did everything we could. His injuries were catastrophic. The blunt force trauma... he lost too much blood before we could stabilize him. We worked for over two hours, but..."