The Transmigration Chronicles of Nanmen Dae

Nanmen Dae knelt on the golden bricks of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, his knees long since numb. Wind and snow swept the cold into the hall from outside, lifting the hem of his coarse linen robe, washed pale with wear, and revealing a chilblain on his wrist that had yet to heal. He kept his head lowered, staring fixedly at the tiny fragment of jade wedged in a crack between the floor tiles. Three days ago, while he was calculating the quarterly financial report, that very piece of jade had suddenly exploded. When he opened his eyes again, he had fallen from his office on the twenty-first floor into this ancient palace, where everything seemed strange and uncanny.