Recommended by over 600,000 readers, Chinese psychological crime novelist Lei Mi delivers a positive impact, portraying criminals, the ritual of crime and punishment, the redemption of dark hearts, and the reconciliation between man and city. This five-volume set takes you on a hearty and exhilarating journey through the world of psychological crime. Included are "The Seventh Reader," "Portrait," "Dark River," "Reformation Field," and "City Lights."

Man's first requirement is to live, the second is still to live, and the third is still to live… In certain circumstances, living becomes a luxury. In hell, we look up at heaven, reaching out our hands. Though we cannot touch heaven, we can at least get closer to it. We sing in hell, we give thanks in hell, we love in hell, we kill in hell. We embrace each other with tears in our eyes, then plunge daggers into each other's chests, not for anything else, but for that faint, almost imperceptible gratitude. The world of the Song Dynasty is my bondage, and also my sky. Only birds that soar in flight understand the meaning of the sky. The Emperor said—"Lend me a corner of the royal mansion, so you and your child may find refuge." Tie Xinyuan said—"I will repay a drop of kindness with a spring of gratitude, but you cannot ask for anything. Whatever reward I give you, you must accept it." I may be smarter than all of you. In a sense, I am a prophet, I am a philosopher, I am a god!

The eternal resentment solidified into hatred and forged into enmity, which was then melted into an endless fight under the angry undead fire!

The comfortable life is silently reduced to ashes, and the sleeping world is bound to be destroyed!

The majestic will, like a savior, guards the world forgotten by God, waiting for the return of the gods. Is it the call of fate? Or is it the will of heaven?

Curiosity killed the cat.

Mission, that rogue thing that only knows how to take, finally fell on the head of the transfer student.

The strange little wooden sword, the mysterious little iron sword, the brutal demon, the prestigious club, all kinds of weird things are connected together.

Who is the real culprit? Is that giant being a god? Or... heaven?

All of this started with a rain in Jinan...

A reborn young master, Confucius is in his prime, Yanzi is old and frail, Sun Tzu's military treatise is unfinished, and the powerful state of Jin is on the verge of collapse due to the infighting among the ministers... As a son, his courage surpasses all others. One day, he avenges his father, and the world is shaken—this is enough for a true man.

At this moment, I gaze upon the lush reeds, wondering where my beloved is amidst the autumn waters. In the mulberry grove by the city corner, a quiet maiden hesitates, while the ospreys cry. A gentleman seeks her out—what more could a good man ask for?

In this era of great contention, when the world is vying for supremacy, and Qing Ji is still alive, what will become of the world?

A young man lived in a world of vast mountains and vast seas, a world where immortality flourished and prospered. Ancient magical powers coexisted with brand-new immortality, and all races sought a new path together. In this turbulent era, the young man longed for love and pursued beautiful women, until he finally realized that he was always alone. After a profound enlightenment, the young man wielded his sword of wisdom, severed his nine hundred and ninety-nine ties, and moved forward with grace. That day, plum blossoms bloomed like snow, and the "Classic of Mountains and Seas" appeared. Then, the young man discovered that he had more than nine hundred and ninety-nine ties... Follow Mianbao on Weibo at http://t.qq.com/fmianbao and email [email protected]. Everyone is welcome.

Originally a small clerk, I stumbled upon an immortal transcending a tribulation, and was dragged back to the Warring States Period. To survive, I resorted to modern technology, experiencing major historical events. It's impossible to revisit the original history, but to adhere to the records in the history books, I deliberately concealed many things. A chance encounter with a secret manual gradually transformed me into a cultivator. Over the course of millennia, I encountered beauties of all kinds, but without a breakthrough in my cultivation, I vanished into the dust of history...

【Original God】【School】【Sugar Knife】【Semi-Daily】【Single Female Lead】

Preliminary reminder: There are swords, candy, funny moments, and a lot of dialogues. It is best not to use your brain when reading this book. There is not much to think about, so just read it.

An accident caused Ying to lose everything, and she had forgotten countless things because of her amnesia. On a rainy night, Ying unexpectedly received an admission letter from Teyvat Academy, which gave her a new beginning in this high school.

Ying: What?! You want me to fight for justice! What a joke!

"Well, just make do with it..."

Feng Ling was reborn in an old body in the Ghost Continent. This old man was very powerful in his lifetime, but Feng Ling was in tears. Fortunately, he had the art of splitting himself into two bodies... It doesn't matter if he is old or sarcastic!

"Ningshuang, wait for me! Yuqing, follow me!"

A white skirt fluttered in the distance as an elderly man kicked away the bruised and battered pretty boy and walked away calmly. A woman in green lingered to finish off the opponent, winking and saying, "Young man, don't look down on the elderly!"

PS: A general's success is built on the sacrifice of countless lives; in the end, everything seems like a dream. Immortals and demons, who is right and who is wrong? I have no intention of killing anyone, but the human heart is treacherous, even more sinister than demons and monsters. All living beings suffer, and it is up to me to save the world...

(Written in detail in the early stage, calmly farming; written briefly in the later stage, stirring up the storm)

This is a stone wall. This is a mountain. Or rather, this is a stone wall as high as a mountain, seemingly reaching to the sky with a majestic grandeur. But a stone wall is still just a stone wall, no matter how majestic it may be. The two arrived before this stone wall, which appeared to be composed of blocks of milky-white marble, like a vast, snow-white canvas. Countless vines extended from the cracks in the stone, like strokes of green ink being applied to this canvas—a masterpiece that no famous painter could rival.