As a noblewoman of Beijing’s elite, I was born ahead of the pack and could throw my weight around in those circles.
But the transmigrator who took over my body ruined the perfect hand I’d been dealt.
Seven years after the transmigrator took my body, I finally returned to it.
My childhood friend, always proud and insufferably arrogant, cornered me against the wall, eyes bloodshot. For the first time, he pleaded with me in a posture of utter humility. “Ji Shiyao.”
