I transmigrated into the body of a poor girl in ancient times and struggled for ten years to become the richest woman in the land.
The day my biological father brought me back to his estate, the fake heiress poured a basin of hot coals over me, saying a lowborn wretch like me deserved to burn to death.
Reborn, I woke up in the side chamber where I had died. The fake heiress was there, sneering as she held a basin of red-hot coals.
“Father says he's bringing you, you country bumpkin, back to bring good luck. Did you really think you could stand on equal footing with me?”
I grabbed a pair of scissors and stabbed her wrist. “You think you're fit to be used as a good-luck charm?”
Later, the whole capital was abuzz with rumors that the two daughters of the Minister of Revenue had gone mad. One screamed “Don't burn me!” in her nightmares every night, while the other spent all day plotting to buy up every shop in the capital.
Even when the richest man's son proposed to me in public, I turned him down. “You're not as rich as I am, and you still think you can marry up?”
When the fake heiress's mother begged for forgiveness, I showed her the deed. “This estate is now part of a slum redevelopment zone. You… are being relocated.”
