Series
Chapter 20 The Heroic Dream of a Little Person
Seven o'clock in the evening. Ye Qiu finished get off work. Standing at the hospital entrance, he let out a long sigh. Caring for Lin Jingzhi that day had been a tormenting experience. This charming and alluring woman constantly teased him.
By Huaxun Literatureabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapter 20 I Can Slap You
Inside the private room, several people's faces were filled with excitement, their eyes fixed on Ye Yifei. Just as Ye Yifei was beginning to feel uneasy, Zhang Mazi was the first to leap up. "It's a good deal! I'll give you a good deal!"
By HuaxunTechnologyabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapter 7: DEAD ZONE EAST
The air was thick with smoke, Aya coughed as her vision returned in flashes— Zair was kneeling beside her, his face pale but alive, Blood streaked down his shoulder like war paint from a forgotten battle. The boy stood close, fingers clenched tightly around the cracked data disk, His voice came out trembling, yet serious, “They found us,” he whispered, almost too soft to believe, Zair gritted his teeth and said nothing—he already knew. They ran through twisted tunnels of steel and ash, Old train rails shattered beneath their boots, Sparks danced like dying fireflies in the dust-thick air, Somewhere behind them, metal boots echoed like death drums. Suddenly, a voice rang from within the wall, Low, mechanical, with poison laced in every word, “You cannot run from ghosts you created,” it said, It was the man with black boots and mirrored eyes. They reached the edge of an elevator shaft, Ropes swung loosely, rusted gears creaked below, Zair stepped forward first, testing the cable’s strength, Then turned to Aya and gave a short nod it was time. They began to descend into the darkness, One by one, foot by foot, heart by heart, The boy stopped midway, looking back into the shadows above, “I hear something,” he said, fear cracking his voice. A thunderous snap ripped through the air, One of the top cables split like an old bone, Aya screamed, clutching tighter to her rope, But from above came worse their hunters had arrived. Gunfire tore down the shaft like angry lightning, Zair pulled his weapon mid-climb, firing upward blindly, His bullets echoed against steel but did not stop them, Then one shot hit his shoulder, and his grip loosened. Aya reached up in panic, her scream breaking through the chaos, Zair looked down at her, eyes calm in the face of doom, Then he let go, falling like a comet into endless dark, His body struck a steel beam with a horrible crack then silence. The boy froze. Aya stared downward, lips trembling but no words came, She wanted to climb back up, to deny what happened, But they had no time the sirens above were growing louder, So together, they climbed downward, to whatever waited below. At the bottom, they found something ancient a stone door built into the earth, Not part of the facility. Not made by any machine. The cracked disk in the boy’s hand began to glow faint blue, Aya stepped forward and touched the stone it was warm. The door slid open without a sound, Inside, light pulsed from walls grown with crystal vines, And in the center, a large sphere hovered, Showing shadows of things neither human nor known. Aya whispered, “Zair, we found it. But you’re not here to see it.” The boy said nothing. His eyes were still wet. They entered the new chamber, and behind them, The door closed quietly—as if it had been waiting for them all along.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Fiction
Chapter 13 Demonstrating Medical Skills, Shiyue Invites
Huangfu Shiyue sneered, "Haha, I wouldn't dare trouble Boss Huangfu to greet you personally." Huangfu Yun's heart skipped a beat, realizing something was amiss. He forced a smile, "Miss, you're joking. Without the Huangfu family's help, I wouldn't be where I am today."
By HuaxunTechnologyabout a year ago in Fiction
Left on Read
It was just a text. No arguments. No drama. Just a small, simple message that hung in digital space like a thread waiting to be pulled. > “Hey… are you okay? I’ve been thinking about you.” Delivered. Seen. No reply. That little gray “read” receipt at the bottom of the screen hit harder than any goodbye ever could. I stared at it for hours, watching it like it might suddenly change — like maybe the universe would glitch, and a reply would appear saying: > “Sorry, I’ve just been busy. I miss you too.” But it didn’t. --- His Name Was Ayan We weren’t in love. Not officially. But we had something — something unspoken but real. A connection made of 2 a.m. calls, half-laughed stories, playlists sent back and forth, and that strange comfort that comes from knowing someone gets you without needing to explain everything. We met online. We met often. But we never put a label on it. Maybe we were scared. Maybe we were unsure. Or maybe… deep down, I always knew he wouldn’t stay. --- The Conversation That Changed Everything The night before it happened, we talked for hours — the way we always did. I told him about my day. He told me about a song that reminded him of me. We laughed. It felt light. Easy. But then I said something vulnerable — something raw. I told him: > “Sometimes I wonder if you’d miss me if I disappeared.” There was a pause. Not long, but long enough to feel like a storm. He replied: > “Don’t say stuff like that.” And then he changed the subject. I thought maybe I had ruined something. Maybe I got too close to the truth. Maybe I scared him off by needing more than late-night calls and unspoken feelings. --- The Message That Wasn’t Answered The next day, I sent a follow-up. > “Hey… are you okay? I’ve been thinking about you.” It was read within minutes. But the reply never came. And that’s how it ended — not with a fight, not with closure, but with being left on read. --- The Pain of Digital Rejection People say ghosting is cruel. But being left on read… that’s a whole different kind of sting. Because it confirms they saw your words. They just chose not to respond. You start questioning yourself: Did I say too much? Was I too emotional? Was it all one-sided? But then you remember the way he used to text first. The way he said “goodnight” every time, even when he was tired. The way he listened — really listened — when you talked about your fears. And you realize… it wasn’t nothing. It just wasn’t enough. --- Learning to Let Go Without Answers I didn’t text again. Not because I stopped caring — but because I started respecting myself. There’s something so heavy about chasing someone who’s already halfway out the door, especially when they won’t even tell you why. Instead, I turned the hurt into reflection. I wrote about it. I went for walks. I listened to the songs he sent me — once, then never again. I cried. Not for him, but for the part of me that still hoped he’d explain. --- It Wasn’t About the Text The pain of being left on read isn’t about the words that never came. It’s about the space they leave behind. The quiet. The not knowing. It’s about how quickly someone can go from “I’m here for you” to complete silence. From “I’ll call you in five” to never hearing from them again. But it also taught me this: > Some people enter your life to show you what you truly need — and what you can no longer accept. --- If You’ve Been Left on Read… I know it hurts. I know that silence feels like a scream. I know you keep rereading your message, wondering what you did wrong. But maybe it’s not about what you did. Maybe it’s about who they are — or what they’re not ready to be. And maybe their silence is a gift in disguise. A clear answer to a question you didn’t want to ask: > “Do I matter enough for you to stay?” Their silence says it all. --- Final Thought It’s okay to grieve people who never gave you closure. It’s okay to feel hurt over what “almost was.” But don’t let someone’s silence drown your worth. Because one day, someone will see your message and not only reply — They’ll show up, speak up, and stay. Until then, let “left on read” be your reminder: > You deserve more than maybe.
By Hazrat Bilalabout a year ago in Fiction
