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Mikane And The Sea Woman

the girl of mountain and sea

In "Mountain and Sea Girl", the romantic saying "The one you love is separated by mountains and seas, but the mountains and seas can be crossed" leads to a unique campus story. Song Li, the renowned school bully of No. 13 Middle School, with the intention of getting close to Gu Ke'ai, the vice monitor of Su Xian's class, resolutely transferred to Zhongwu High School. Facing this secondary school boy who transferred for love, Su Xian, the monitor of the top class, gently pushed his black-rimmed glasses with a prescription of 200 degrees and calmly said, "Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm the monitor, and my alias is 'Mountain and Sea'." Since then, Song Li's plan to cross the "mountains and seas" to get close to Gu Ke'ai has encountered more twists and turns because of Su Xian's existence. At first, Song Li repeatedly failed and stumbled everywhere in the face of "Mountain and Sea". However, in the repeated confrontations, Song Li unexpectedly discovered that Su Xian, the usually serious and earnest monitor, seemed to have a different kind of cuteness. Su Xian, the monitor, is calm and composed in the class, exuding a bit of handsomeness and freedom; while Song Li, who seems as fierce as a wolf dog on the outside, is actually a lively "Siberian Husky" inside. As the story progresses, there are continuous major and minor exams and in-class quizzes on campus. Amidst the interweaving of academic studies, the relationship between the two gradually changes. Song Li, who once only had the intention of getting close to someone else, begins to be unconsciously attracted to Su Xian, and Su Xian also sees the different shining points in Song Li during the process of getting along with him.
DaoistsDbK74 · 172 Views

Gaze At The Wide Blue Sea

REVISION WILL BE MADE SOON! --------------------------------------------------- They had known each other for a long time. For eight years they were best friends and for twelve years they were lovers. They had passed two decades. Eight years, people admired their closeness; five years was a curse; two years was a loveliness, and the rest was the curse of five years ago came back like a sweet thing that made them understand many things. Five years. At the start of their relationship, Ai Zhiyi endured and abandoned his pride, as did his lover, Chu Weixu. Ai Zhiyi was an ordinary young man who had a relationship with someone because of luck. Meanwhile, Chu Weixu was a young man of wealth, honor, and dignity, who had a relationship with him by fate. Ai Zhiyi was only too comfortable with their love story, so he became stubborn. It was possible that he was trapped, thus dividing his time into three distinct periods. Chu Weixu loved him, but his family and he were completely opposite things. However, it was ultimately time that answered all the complexities of their relationship. Chu Weixu, "If you gaze at the sea, it's wide, isn't it? But, if you compare it to my love, then it's nothing." Ai Zhiyi, "You're really good at seducing me." Chu Weixu, “For you, it sounds I'm seducing you, but no. It's exactly what I feel from the depth of my heart. I love you to death." --------------- - The plot will be super super super slow. I warn you lol. - Rape/Violence, but not details/intense. - cheesy LOL, a lot of mozzarella.
Mao_Yuxuan · 265.5K Views

A Woman Without a Mask

At 28, Clara Hayes has mastered the art of wearing masks. To her colleagues, she’s the perpetually cheerful graphic designer who never misses a deadline. To her overbearing mother, she’s the dutiful daughter hiding her anxiety behind polished smiles. To the world, she’s a woman who “has it all together”—except she’s crumbling inside. Clara’s life unravels during a corporate presentation where a panic attack strips her façade raw. Humiliated and exhausted, she flees to a quiet coastal town, renting a cottage owned by an eccentric, free-spirited potter named Marisol. There, Clara stumbles upon a dusty journal in the attic, its pages filled with haunting sketches and anonymous confessions from a woman who once lived there decades earlier. The entries mirror Clara’s own suffocating duality: “I paint myself in colors the world approves of, but my soul is a grayscale.” As Clara tentatively befriends Marisol and a reclusive widower, Eli, who runs the town’s crumbling bookstore, she begins confronting the lies she’s told herself for years. Through their unconventional guidance—and the journal’s cryptic wisdom—she starts shedding her masks one by one. But vulnerability comes at a cost: her corporate career teeters, her mother’s disapproval intensifies, and a buried trauma from her teenage years resurfaces, threatening to drown her newfound courage. When Clara’s raw, unfiltered artwork—created in secret—goes viral, she faces a choice: return to the safety of her old illusions or step into the terrifying freedom of living unapologetically. But the journal hides a final secret, linking Clara’s journey to the cottage’s mysterious past, forcing her to question whether true authenticity is a rebellion… or a homecoming.
Daoist5CDTxH · 1.7K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 712.3K Views
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