The capital, Jingzhao Mansion.
The cold wind of late autumn was like a whip covered with ice, whipping the faded and peeling red paint door of Uncle Dingyuan's Mansion.
Inside the door, the atmosphere was colder and more depressing than outside.
Shen Lang felt as if he had been thrown into a huge drum washing machine, which made him spin and have a splitting headache. Countless chaotic and unfamiliar memory fragments, like collapsing wild horses, crashed into his consciousness crazily.
"Well..." He let out a painful groan and opened his heavy eyelids with difficulty.
What came into view was the ancient carved bed top, and the air was filled with a faint mixed smell that couldn't be told whether it was medicinal or musty.
Aren't I staying up late at the office to catch up on projects? Where is this?
The next second, a massive amount of information poured into his mind, roughly answering his question.
Shen Lang, the word... Has no word. He was eighteen years old, a well-known prodigal son in the capital, hated by everyone, stupid and lustful. His father is the contemporary Dingyuan Bo Shen Han, a down-to-earth nobleman who is old-fashioned and serious but cannot support his family. The mother, Mrs. Chen, dotes on her son without any principles.
And I, or rather the original owner, tried to tease a distant cousin of Anguo Gongfu on the street yesterday, but was beaten severely by the other party's servant, and he was only half-breathed when he was carried back.
Then... Then it was replaced by him, a miserable social beast from modern times also named Shen Lang. After his sudden death, his soul passed through this place.
Encourage me, come on, come on