After I Transmigrated, I Chose to Lie Flat

“The children of South Village bully me, old and weak. How dare they rob me right to my face...”

On a stormy afternoon, Yang Han, a transmigrator, watched helplessly as a few little brats carried off the thatch from his roof. He was still a young man, but there was nothing he could do. All he could do was sigh, “The children of South Village bully me, old and weak.”