Chapter 1

◎Transmigration into a Book◎

Fan Qi stared blankly at the magazine in her hands. Right in the center of the cover was a woman in a bikini, droplets of water glistening on her body, kneeling by the poolside in a seductive pose.

As a self-proclaimed face-connoisseur, Fan Qi usually appreciated all things beautiful. But she couldn’t appreciate this particular image—because she had just been told that she had transmigrated into the woman in the photo.

God was playing Face Off now? He’d thrown her, a professional stock trader who only knew how to play the markets, into the 1980s of Hong Kong, and into the body of this mainland actress who had the exact same name as her.

This young woman had previously acted in a few films in the mainland. After participating in a movie directed by a Hong Kong filmmaker, she was persuaded by him to come to the city. But once she arrived, the gap between dreams and reality hit her hard. Nearly a year had passed, and she had only managed to land a few minor background roles.

When she was at her lowest, that same director gave her a “suggestion.” At the time, erotica films were booming in Hong Kong’s film market. Several leading actresses had risen to fame this way, and just last year, a famous starlet, Jin Xiaohui, had even married into a wealthy family. If she could break free from the outdated, conservative thinking of the mainland, this might be a golden opportunity for her.

In addition to his advice, the director handed her the script for The Story of Golden Lotus and discussed one of the roles with her—offering her the part of a stunning second female lead. He promised that only her back would be shown and that there would be no nudity whatsoever. Eventually, the original owner of the body was persuaded and agreed to act in the film.

In the thriving film industry of 1980s Hong Kong, most commercial films were shot quickly—wrapped in two weeks and released a month later.

In the film, the original Fan Qi wore sheer clothing and exuded allure. There was one scene, where her gauzy robe fell to reveal her bare back, that was particularly tantalizing.

One literary critic wrote:

“Only after seeing Fan Qi can one truly understand why King You of Zhou lit the beacons for a beauty, or why Wu Sangui gave up his crown in anger for a woman. She embodies the perfect blend of sex appeal and innocence.”

This same critic even claimed that if she were willing to bare it all, she would surely become the most sensational bombshell in all of Asia.

The original Fan Qi had the nerve to act in the film, but feared her nominal husband would find out she had acted in erotica. But paper can’t wrap fire. Just moments ago, Chen Zhiqian had thrown the magazine in her face and demanded to know why she would appear in such a film—why she’d do such a photoshoot. The two of them had a huge argument, and Chen Zhiqian stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Chen Zhiqian? Fan Qi rubbed her forehead, exasperated. What the hell—this is like something out of a bad soap opera!

No wonder something had felt off when she was merging with the original owner’s memories. She finally remembered who Chen Zhiqian was.

Just a few days ago, she’d been reading a Hong Kong novel. In it, she was captivated by a powerful figure who manipulated events from the shadows—a man known for his ruthless strategies. According to the novel, he had a tragic past, and the greatest tragedy of all was that he’d married a scandalous actress known for her roles in erotic films. This woman had repeatedly cheated on him, becoming an indelible stain on his life.

Whether it was her own personal bias or the way the character conducted himself—decisive, fierce, yet always within bounds—Fan Qi had never believed the gossip shared by two minor characters in the book:

“If it weren’t for that promiscuous woman, Chen Zhiqian would’ve lived up to his name—a true gentleman. Now, he’s half saint, half demon.”

“I heard she was stabbed twenty-seven times, right to the bone. Was it him who did it?”

“Shhh…”

Fan Qi believed that, though ruthless, he had a strong sense of justice. In the novel, his tactics were clever but never illegal. How could someone like him possibly be a murderer?

But the book was just fiction—this was real life. Now that she was living it, Fan Qi felt deeply uneasy.

Her gaze fell to the caption under the magazine cover: “Northern Beauty Fan Qi, Alluring in the Water.”

Not only had she transmigrated, she had transmigrated into a novel—into the body of a glamour actress who rose to fame by starring in erotica and died miserably in the end.

Click. The door opened.

Fan Qi looked up and saw a tall, slender figure step through the doorway.

Back when she was reading the novel, Fan Qi had wondered why the author piled so many flattering adjectives onto a man in his fifties. What kind of devastating charm had this Chen Zhiqian possessed in his youth? Now she understood—some people really could make a plain white shirt look extraordinary.

This man had deep, penetrating eyes. When those eyes landed on her, Fan Qi felt a sudden chill. She looked down at herself—no wonder! She was wearing a skin-tight dress that didn’t even cover her chest properly, nor her legs.

She remembered: earlier tonight, the original owner of this body had agreed to accompany a wealthy businessman to dinner—a meeting arranged by the director who had once given her a big break. Even though she had just had a huge fight with Chen Zhiqian, and he had warned her that if she took on another role like that, he’d drag her back to Shanghai, the original still went ahead and changed into this skimpy, sultry dress to attend the dinner.

Dinner, my ass! Fan Qi, who had once worked three years as a research analyst at an investment bank, only needed to recall the greasy, self-important finance bros—grabbing and drinking at the table—to feel nauseated.

While the two of them stood in silence, the phone on the table rang. She picked it up. “Hello?”

“You need to come to Star Teahouse right now. I’ve arranged a makeup artist to get you ready—don’t go looking like a country bumpkin in front of Boss Ye…” On the other end, the speaker launched into a rapid-fire string of Cantonese.

Wait… she could understand Cantonese? Still stunned by that realization, Fan Qi heard another impatient shout: “Did you hear me or not?”

Only then did she realize—this was the original’s agent. She said coolly, “I’m not free.”

“Not free?” The agent froze, then raised his voice sharply. “Brother Wang’s been working hard to promote you. Now that there’s finally a chance for you, you say you’re not free? Just say no and it’s no? In this industry, these kinds of dinner meetings are unavoidable. Besides, Boss Ye said he’ll give you three thousand dollars just to show up.”

“Three thousand?” Paid drinking company? Fan Qi’s already-thin patience snapped. In choppy but clear Cantonese, she snapped back, “I suggest you take a moment and consider the difference between a pimp and an agent. If it’s not in the contract, don’t bother me again.”

She hung up and, knowing the agent would call again, picked up the receiver and placed it off the hook so he couldn’t get through.

Her stomach rumbled loudly. The original owner had eaten barely anything at lunch to maintain her figure. Now that she was here, what else could she do? First things first—fill her stomach.

The apartment was tiny to the extreme. There wasn’t even a separate kitchen—turning around brought her face-to-face with the stove. She opened the cupboard above and found several packets of instant noodles. She took one out, but her stomach reminded her one pack wouldn’t be enough—so she grabbed another.

Fan Qi took out two packs of noodles, plus two eggs and a handful of greens from the fridge, and began boiling water to cook.

Instant noodles cook quickly. She squatted down—carefully in the tight dress—to open the cabinet and take out some bowls. She suddenly remembered there was still another person in the room and turned to glance over.

Chen Zhiqian was sitting at the dining table, gripping a fountain pen, scribbling notes intensely.

The mellow late-afternoon sunlight streamed in through the west-facing window, casting soft light across his face—a face that would seem too harsh with any more sharpness, or too soft with any less masculinity. If even half the men who tried to get close to her looked this good, could she really have the heart to turn them down?

Maybe sensing her gaze, Chen Zhiqian turned his head toward her. His eyes were like a deep, icy pool—impossible to see the bottom. Fan Qi suddenly remembered the bit about those twenty-seven stab wounds and shivered. The fantasy vanished into smoke. She stood up, took two bowls, and evenly divided the noodles, one egg per bowl.

Carrying the noodles to the table, she said, “Come eat. I made noodles.”

Chen Zhiqian looked slightly surprised. After a moment’s pause, he replied, “Alright. Thank you.”

He put away the papers on the table, took the noodles and chopsticks, and began eating.

Fan Qi lifted her bowl and took a sip of the broth. Spotting a smudge of lipstick on the rim, she grabbed a tissue and wiped it off before continuing to eat. With warm noodles in her belly, she finally started to feel human again.

“Fan Qi.” His voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up mid-bite to see Chen Zhiqian watching her.

“I’ve got some free time coming up,” he said. “How about we go back to Shanghai together and explain everything to our families—get the divorce?”

When she’d read the novel, Fan Qi had always wondered—how could someone as brilliant as Chen Zhiqian marry that kind of woman? It wasn’t until she merged with the original’s memories that she understood the reason.

Their marriage had been arranged by the previous generation.

Before the liberation, the Chen family were major capitalists in Shanghai. Afterward, their factories were nationalized under the “public-private partnership” policy. Life was still relatively stable. After Chen Zhiqian was born, the family hired the original’s grandmother as a nanny.

Then came a turbulent era. The Chen couple were about to be sent to a remote labor camp. Worried that their frail two-year-old son wouldn’t survive the harsh conditions, they entrusted him to the nanny—Granny Fan.

Chen Zhiqian ended up living with the Fan family for over a decade. In 1979, the Chen family’s name was cleared and the parents returned to Shanghai. By then, fourteen-year-old Chen Zhiqian was healthy, studious, and well-mannered. The couple were deeply grateful.

The Fan family happened to have a daughter two years younger. The two children had grown up together like siblings. Naturally, Mr. and Mrs. Chen began to think of her as a future daughter-in-law. Later, Chen Zhiqian got into F University, showing real promise. The Chen parents went to the Fan family and formally proposed.

Having practically raised him, and with him being such a good-natured and bright boy, how could the Fan elders say no? So the engagement was settled.

Both families were happy with the arrangement—except for the two people actually involved. The original always resented this “Chen brother” who had grown up under her roof. Because of his “capitalist class” background, she was often shunned by her peers and hated him for it. And she certainly didn’t care that he’d gone to some fancy university. After all, she had already been scouted by a director and started acting in films and TV dramas by her first year of high school.

After hearing that director from Hong Kong talk about opportunities in the city, she became tempted to pursue a career there. But her father, who worked as a film editor in a state-run studio, had heard rumors about the chaos of Hong Kong’s entertainment industry. He strongly opposed her move, even threatening to sever their father-daughter relationship if she insisted on going.

Around that time, the old housekeeper from the Fan family returned from the Chen household and mentioned that a professor from the University of Hong Kong had invited Chen Zhiqian to pursue graduate studies there during a short academic visit.

The original Fan Qi had always been resistant to the idea of marriage, but this time it felt like a lifeline. She suddenly expressed her willingness to marry Chen Zhiqian—just so she could go to Hong Kong with him.

After the chaos and constant quarrels between father and daughter, her mother was at her wits’ end. Hearing this sudden change felt like a ray of light piercing through darkness. She immediately went to speak to Chen’s mother. With Chen Zhiqian accompanying her daughter, she and her husband could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

However, Chen Zhiqian refused. He explained that he was already participating in a national scholarship program and was preparing to study abroad in the United States.

When that hope crumbled, the original Fan Qi slashed her own wrist. The situation escalated to the point of calling an ambulance. Her father coldly told her, “If you want to die, then do it properly.” She broke down crying, sobbing as if the heavens would collapse. Just when the situation reached a deadlock, the Chen parents visited to say that Chen Zhiqian had changed his mind—he would go to Hong Kong after all.

And so, the two registered their marriage and left together.

The elders believed everything was finally settled. What they didn’t know was how miserable that first year was for Chen Zhiqian. He and Fan Qi fought endlessly about her acting career.

Fan Qi could understand his mindset. As long as she agreed to return to Shanghai and the two of them divorced, her father would never let her come back to Hong Kong again. That way, Chen Zhiqian could finally be free of her.

Go back to Shanghai? Fan Qi looked at the calendar on the wall. The date on the current page: June 17, 1986.

The Shanghai Stock Exchange wouldn’t be established until 1990, and even then, it would take years to stabilize. What could she possibly do back there now?

Meanwhile, the Hong Kong stock market was already active, with institutions even handling U.S. and European stock trades. From now until October 1987, the world was entering a massive, sweeping bull market.

There was a saying among short-term traders: “You’re just one bull market away from hitting your first million.”

Fan Qi had made her first fortune during the 2013–2015 A-share bull market, turning half a million into one hundred million. Since she was already here, how could she possibly miss out on a bull market like this?

The thought of losing her 2 billion fund and her 500-square-meter riverside mansion—all gone, having to start over—made her chest tighten.

She looked at Chen Zhiqian and said, “I’m not going back.”

A fleeting look of mockery crossed Chen Zhiqian’s face, though it quickly disappeared. He stood up, cleared her dishes, and said curtly, “Suit yourself.”