The rice sack was heavier than it should've been. Or maybe the body he now inhabited was just too weak.
Zheng Wei gritted his teeth, back aching as he dragged the sack across the warehouse floor. Around him, other laborers shouted, sweated, and cursed under their breath. The air smelled of wet grain and oil. Dust clung to his throat with every breath.
No one knew that this man — coughing and struggling in a moldy undershirt — was once Rayn Zheng, billionaire CEO, the man who once negotiated billion-dollar contracts without blinking.
Now? He was just Zheng Wei, warehouse cleaner and rice loader. A nobody.
> "Tch… slow as ever," muttered one of the older workers, brushing past him with ease.
Zheng Wei ignored it. He wasn't here to fight petty egos. He was here to survive — and rise again.
---
☁️ That Night
The room was barely four walls and a cracked roof. Rain tapped the old tin sheet above as Li Mei stirred the leftover rice porridge. A single oil lamp flickered between them.
She placed a small bowl in front of him and smiled.
> "Eat, Gege. You need strength. Your fever is finally gone."
He stared at her — this girl, this sister — not his by blood, but somehow written into the life of this new body. Her eyes held the kind of warmth that billion-dollar boardrooms never offered.
> "Mei…" he said softly, "how long have we lived like this?"
She blinked. "Since Mama and Baba died. Four years now."
Zheng Wei clenched his fists beneath the table. Four years of struggle. No savings. No future. Only survival.
Not anymore.
> "Do you still go to school?" he asked.
She shook her head, a little too quickly. "I'll go next year…"
He knew she was lying. And he hated how familiar poverty's excuses were.
He stood up and walked outside into the rain, barefoot.
The muddy street stretched into the darkness, lit by a single rusted lamppost. Somewhere far off, a truck rumbled by, splashing water onto the road.
Zheng Wei looked up at the sky.
> "I've built an empire once," he whispered, "I'll do it again. But this time… I'll build it for her too."
---
🧠 The Plan Begins
The next morning, while other workers chatted about local gossip and drank cheap tea, Zheng Wei sat quietly in the back of the warehouse with a broken notebook he found in a trash pile.
Using a small charcoal stub, he began sketching.
Local supplier prices
Demand for fixed electronics in nearby villages
Profit margins on reused parts
Routes to nearby markets
Names of men who owed favors to Zheng Wei's previous self
His mind, sharp as ever, began crafting a model. Not just for survival — for growth.
But he needed two things first:
Capital. And time.
He looked at the warehouse's broken fan, the old radio no one had touched in months, and the heaps of discarded tools.
> "Trash to treasure," he muttered. "Just like before."
And then he heard it — a soft voice behind him.
> "You're not the same anymore… are you, Gege?"
He turned.
Chen Rui.
She was the only other worker who didn't mock him. Quiet, strong-willed, with sleeves always rolled up. She looked at his notebook, then at him — not with suspicion, but curiosity.
Zheng Wei met her eyes and smiled faintly.
> "No," he said. "I finally woke up."