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Shen Ruonan doesn't want to be reborn. The moment she was pushed down from the fifty-ninth floor by her husband and secretary, she just wanted to be free. But the darkness cracked - in 1978, at the age of eighteen, she was lying on the earthen bed in the northern countryside, and she would be sold by her father in exchange for a bride price the next day. In her previous life, she started from scratch for thirty years and built an empire worth hundreds of billions, but in the end she died without a place to bury her. All she has left in this life is twenty-seven dollars, an empty storage space, and a heart so torn apart by PTSD that she doesn't care if she wakes up tomorrow. Tear up the betrothal gift sheet, board the coal truck, and head south to Guangzhou. From cement bags to paper bags to self-made\