Wang Shengnan, 21 years old, unemployed, single, and penniless. All she has left is one sentence from her grandfather: "Go to the Victory Cinema. Sit in the last row and don't move."
She did as she was told.
Then she transmigrated.
In the summer of 2024, at the end of a foggy alley in Chongqing, the sign for the Victory Cinema had hung crooked for twenty years. Wang Shengnan, a computer science prodigy who graduated straight into unemployment, had sent out 108 resumes and received 107 rejections. At last, she remembered the rusty key her grandfather had pressed into her hand before he died.
She thought it was his last wish.
When she opened the door, she learned the truth: it was her destiny.
A jade pendant she could wear close to her body. Code flashing across a black screen. Nine "seniors" dwelling inside it. And a beam of light that swallowed her whole.
When she woke, it was 1927.
Northern China.
The Japanese had not arrived yet.
She stood on a dirt road, clutching a key, while a man named Li Yunlong behind her shouted, "Comrade! Which unit are you with?"
Which unit was she with?
She didn't even know where she was.
She was a genius.
Not the kind who gets perfect scores on exams. That doesn't count.
She was a real genius.
She wrote her first virus at fourteen, was courted by three cybersecurity firms at sixteen, won the national hacking competition at eighteen, graduated at twenty, and was unemployed at twenty-one.
It wasn't that she lacked talent.
The world simply wasn't good enough for her.
The one-line pitch: Other people transmigrate with a System. She transmigrates with a jade pendant, home to nine big shots, each more outrageous than the last, and she's even more outrageous than all of them.
