Ascensão a partir de um puxador de riquixá em Xangai

The mottled wooden walls were furred with mildew, and light filtered through the patched roof.

There was a small, hard, icy-cold plank bed, a tattered quilt that reeked of mold, and barely any room to move.

When Chen Guangliang awoke and saw everything before him, he was seized by a profound sense of unfamiliarity.

Then another set of memories surged into his mind, colliding and merging with his own.

After a long while, he still could not accept the fact that he had become one of the lowest members of society in Shanghai’s Zhabei District in 1927.

Yet no matter how hard he pinched his thigh or slapped his own face, everything felt horrifyingly real.

The surroundings before him filled him with bleak despair. Why couldn’t he have crossed into a better environment, with a better background?

With his current social status, surviving the War of Resistance would be difficult enough, let alone making a living in Shanghai during the 1920s and 1930s.

Warlords ruled the land, while hoodlums ran rampant.

In his previous life, Chen Guangliang had lived a comfortable existence, with a car, a home, and a modestly bourgeois lifestyle. In his spare time, he enjoyed reading, researching, and watching films and television dramas, so he had some understanding of this era.

But that “understanding” did not make him happy or lead him to believe he could become a great tycoon in Shanghai. Instead, it filled him with pessimism and anxiety about his life and future.

“Guangliang, are you awake yet? Hurry up and get dressed. I’m tak