Lin Yuanzhou was woken up by a basin of cold water.
The cold liquid poured into the nasal cavity, causing violent choking and coughing. He opened his eyes suddenly and saw a face full of flesh, staring down at him with undisguised contempt on the corners of his mouth.
"Hey, our prince has finally woken up?" The man said in a sinister tone, holding a dripping copper basin in his hand. "The master asked me to take a look. If you are not dead yet, hurry up and go to the front hall. Someone is coming from the palace."
Lin Yuanzhou's brain was in chaos.
Master? Prince? In the palace?
Before he could react, the strong servant had already impatiently pulled him up from the bed.
"Hurry up! Don't wait too long. If you embarrass me again, you will be beaten later!"
Lin Yuanzhou was pushed to stand still, looking down at himself - he was dressed in a coarse cloth single clothes, so thin that he was almost skin and bones, and there were several shocking scars on his wrists, some of which were scabbed, and some of which were still bleeding faintly.
This is not his body.
His name is Lin Yuanzhou, 32 years old, a star trader at a Wall Street hedge fund, and just now he was fighting a bloody battle over a stock. After seventy-two hours of continuous high-intensity operation, he died suddenly in front of the computer.
And now...
