My Soul Travels Through Ukraine, I Am the President

February 24, 2022, 4:23 am. Wang Qiang's consciousness was like a fishing boat shattered by huge waves, bumping in the endless darkness, and then slammed into a solid coast. Severe pain. It's not a headache, it's the tearing feeling of the soul being forced into a mismatched container. He felt like every nerve in him was being pulled, fused, and then welded back together. "Uh-huh..." A dry moan that didn't belong to him squeezed out of his throat. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a gorgeous and tacky velvet ceiling. A huge crystal chandelier was trembling slightly with the dull crashing sound coming from the distance. "An earthquake?" This was the first thought that flashed through his mind. He struggled to sit up, but found that his whole body was sore and weak, and his limbs were as slender as a woman's arms. He looked down and saw that he was wearing a set of silk dark blue pajamas, with fair skin and a few sparse golden curls on his chest. This is not his body! Wang Qiang's heart suddenly stopped beating. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.