Lin Yue, a high-powered investment banker earning a million a year, opened her eyes to find chicken droppings smeared across her face. She had become a "little bride" for sale in the 1970s, priced at thirty jin of grain coupons.
She rolled her eyes and unleashed her golden finger: her entire moving space had come along with her. Maotai by the crate, gold bars by the ton, La Mer by the shelf.
A lame old widower wanted to marry her? She slapped a gold bar on the table. Let's see if he cries first.
The white-lotus heroine wanted to trample her? Lin Yue fired back with a complete set of five years of college entrance exams and three years of mock tests, became the provincial top scorer, and tore the whole plot apart.
The neighborhood security director, the revolutionary committee, and awful relatives lined up to pin labels on her? She'd beat down anyone who came, and make a profit if two came at once.
She made money, bought houses, hoarded antiques, and cashed in on the boom in college entrance exams. She worked her sewing machine until sparks flew, and even brought home Shen Xingye, a future aviation mogul.
From a despised "profiteer" to the richest person in the country, all it took was one sentence:
"Don't talk to me about the limits of the era. My cheat has no era."
