Du Gailun's Transmigration

The last thing he remembered was telling a joke about haggling with suppliers at the company’s annual party. The laughter in the room hadn’t even died down when his champagne glass hit the floor lamp behind him. As electricity surged through his body, he thought his life was about to end with the title of “Best Comedian of the Year.” But when he opened his eyes, all he saw was a roof of blue-gray tiles, and a strange smell of herbs and sandalwood filled his nostrils.

“Awake? Then get up already. Don’t hog the meditation cushion in the qi cultivation room!”