The world outside the private jet was a sheet of silver clouds, glowing softly in the light of the setting sun. Inside the cabin, Rayn Zheng sat with his signature glass of scotch in hand, legs crossed, dressed in a charcoal-black suit that cost more than most people's annual salary.
He was alone, as usual.
His assistant had been left behind in Shanghai. His legal team was handling a billion-dollar merger without him. And the woman he'd spent last night with… he couldn't even remember her name.
The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom:
> "Sir, turbulence ahead. Please remain seated."
Rayn didn't flinch. He'd flown through worse. For a man who once slept under a leaking roof, now owning skyscrapers across three continents, turbulence wasn't just weather — it was a way of life.
He leaned back, eyes scanning the business report on his tablet.
Numbers. Deals. Stock prices. All rising. As always.
> "Rayn Zheng. CEO of ZhengTech. The man who turned dust into data," read the Forbes cover beside him.
"From rags to dominance. No family. No heir. No distractions."
He scoffed. No distractions… what a joke.
In that moment, something inside him stirred. A strange discomfort—not in his chest, but deeper. A question he'd ignored for years bubbled up:
"If I vanished today… would anyone cry?"
Before he could answer, the world went white.
A deafening BOOM ripped through the sky.
The plane jolted—smashed sideways. Lights flickered. Glass shattered. Rayn was thrown against the seatbelt, blood rushing to his head.
> "Engine failure! We're going down—!"
The jet screamed as it broke through the clouds. Rayn's scotch glass shattered on the floor, mixing with sparks and smoke. The sound of tearing metal filled the air. Alarms howled.
Rayn Zheng, worth over $14.7 billion, closed his eyes.
No regrets.
No prayers.
No one waiting.
Just silence.
---
...Then, everything changed.
---
A loud shout echoed in his ears.
> "Zheng Wei! Stop dreaming and lift that sack of rice! Lazy fool!"
He gasped — air burned in his lungs. His back ached. His hands were rough. His clothes stank of sweat and dirt. And the world around him had… changed.
No plane. No tech. No tablet.
Just a dusty warehouse filled with burlap sacks, iron tools, and the smell of poverty.
He looked down at his hands — not his smooth, polished fingers, but the calloused, scarred hands of a laborer.
He ran to a broken mirror on the wall.
The face that stared back was young, skinny, sun-baked… and utterly unfamiliar.
> "What the… where the hell am I?" he whispered, heart racing.
From behind him, a girl's voice called out—gentle but firm.
> "Gege… are you okay? You were shouting again in your sleep."
He turned. A small girl, no more than sixteen, in a faded dress stood by the door. Her eyes were worried, but warm.
> "Li Mei?"
The name slipped out before he knew why.
The girl nodded. "You're acting strange again. Come eat before boss yells."
Rayn… no… Zheng Wei collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed.
Reborn. In a poor man's body. In a time long gone.
He looked at his reflection one more time — then closed his eyes and whispered:
> "This time… I'll build an empire from nothing. But I won't do it alone."