Transmigrated into the body of a tycoon's spoiled ex-girlfriend

The elevator doors opened, and Zhang Xin and her advisor went inside.

The elevator interior features champagne-colored metal panels, and a small screen next to the floor buttons displays authorized access information.

The tutor swiped his card, and the message on the screen changed to "Welcome."

As the elevator ascended, Zhang Xin felt a stuffiness in her ears. She swallowed, and her eardrums popped open with a "pop".

Soon, the elevator reached the designated floor, and Zhang Xin followed her mentor out.

The corridor was long, with transparent meeting rooms on both sides.

As she turned the corner, she suddenly heard the sound of leather shoes walking on the ground ahead.

She looked up instinctively and saw Rong She.

He walked at the front, his black suit tailored to fit perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders.

Behind him were three or four men, also dressed in suits, who were looking down at documents and talking rapidly, interspersed with words like "project" and "deadline".

Rong She nodded slightly, exuding an aura that commanded obedience without him needing to speak.

The corridor was spacious, but as they walked over, Zhang Xin instinctively tried to move aside until she was pressed against the wall.

As the distance gradually shortened, Zhang Xin's heart rate soared from 80 to 120. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, and her ears were burning hot.

She lowered her eyes, staring at the laptop case in her hand, her peripheral vision filled with the ever-approaching tips of his leather shoes.

Closer, closer.

The footsteps passed in front of her without slowing down; the tips of leather shoes brushed past the edge of her vision, then came a second pair, a third pair, and a fourth pair.

He walked past her, his leather shoes making a crisp sound as they stepped away.

Finally, a few faint scents of pine remained in the air.

Zhang Xin slowly loosened her clenched fingers and realized that her palms were covered in fine sweat.

Her phone kept vibrating in her pocket, so she walked to the window in the hallway and took it out.

Upon seeing the message and photo sent by Bao Min, her finger hovered over the photo on the screen, staring at it for a long time.

Then, biting her lip, she typed a line of text, her hand still trembling as she sent the message.

Zhang Xin: "I saw him again."

Bao Min replied instantly: "Who? Rong She?"

Zhang Xin: "Yes, he's at the company. He's here for a meeting."

Bao Min: "!! Your fate is too deep! There are tens of millions of people in Lingzhou City, and you've met him twice. If this isn't destiny, what is? Zhang Xin, believe me, something will definitely happen between you two!"

Zhang Xin stared at the words on the screen, unsure of how to reply.

"Keep going, I'm rooting for you," Bao Min posted another message.

Zhang Xin stared at the words, then immediately stuffed her phone into her pocket, her heart pounding.

Someone else walked down the corridor, their footsteps approaching.

She quickly stepped aside to make way.

-

In the conference room, Rong She sat at the head of the long table.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows is the skyline of Lingzhou City, with the port shimmering in the distance and the outlines of cargo ships moving slowly on the gray-blue sea.

He was sitting rather awkwardly, his whole body slumped in the leather chair, his long legs crossed, one hand resting on the armrest, his fingers tapping casually on the leather surface.

The director was reporting on the technical progress of a new project, flipping through page after page of the PowerPoint presentation. After finishing a section, he would pause and wait for feedback.

Rong She stopped knocking: "I have a question."

The director immediately stopped: "Please speak."

"From a technological point of view, suppose there is a person who is still the same person, with the same face and the same body, but the things inside are no longer her."

He paused, tapping his fingers lightly on the table: "It's not split personality, nor amnesia, it's like being a different person, similar to possession, but not quite possession. Is that even possible?"

The meeting room fell silent after these words were spoken.

The director and several technical consultants exchanged glances, and the atmosphere suddenly became subtle.

No one dared to say directly, "Isn't what you're talking about just a fantasy novel?" but everyone's facial expressions said it all.

Finally, a technical consultant with graying hair cautiously spoke up: "President Rong, are you referring to consciousness transplantation or personality overwriting?"

Is there a difference?

"Yes. Consciousness transplantation is a technical matter, transferring consciousness from one carrier to another. It's currently still in the theoretical stage. Several laboratories abroad are researching brain-computer interfaces, but it's far from practical application. As for personality overlay..."

He carefully chose his words: "It's more like a psychological replacement, without the technical means to achieve it."

As Rong She listened, his brow twitched slightly, and he twirled the pen in his hand before stopping.

The technical consultant cautiously asked, "Mr. Rong, is this a direction we should be paying attention to?"

Rong She glanced at him and said calmly, "No need, continue your report."

The director turned to the next slide with a sigh of relief.

The data charts on the screen had been updated, and dense numbers were spread out in front of Rong She's eyes, but he couldn't concentrate on a single word.

He glanced out the window at the harbor, where the sea and sky met at the horizon; the weather was indeed lovely today.

At that moment, his phone on the table vibrated several times in a row.

The screen lit up, and a series of consumption messages popped up, ranging from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands, totaling more than a dozen.

Rong She stared blankly at the numbers, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, then turned off the screen.

He was indeed still thinking about the "six months" that Ke Miantang had mentioned.

He saw Ke Miantang's guilty reaction; her panic, evasiveness, and attempts to change the subject—every detail told him that she was hiding something from him.

Perhaps she will leave this place in six months and go somewhere no one can find her.

Only if this were the case would she be so certain that she would say, "I won't care what you do after six months."

Thinking of this, his breath hitched, and he suddenly felt a little annoyed.

He wondered, if one day the "Ke Miantang" living in Ke Miantang's body were to leave, where would he go to find it again?

Based on this situation, he had someone customize a locator overnight.

He needed to know where she was at all times, to know that she was still somewhere in the city swiping her card to buy a dress, so that he could feel at ease.

As long as she stays by his side, he will do whatever she wants.

-

Ke Miantang was tired from shopping, so she found an outdoor cafe near the mall, ordered an iced Americano, and waited for Rong She to pick her up.

There were many shopping bags of various sizes piled up at her feet. The handles of the paper bags were so tight that her fingers turned red. She moved the bags around and sat in a more comfortable position.

Shopping is a mix of happiness and pain; you feel happy when you see the bill, but you feel pain when you're carrying the bags away.

She had finished her iced Americano and leaned back in the wicker chair, her legs stretched out at an angle, the hem of her skirt billowing in the wind, outlining the slender lines of her calves.

Passersby would always glance at her, simply because she was so beautiful. So beautiful that in this era where everyone is looking down at their phones, there are still people who are willing to look up, take their eyes off the screen, and focus on her face.

Just now, someone came up to her and asked if she was a celebrity, excitedly insisting on taking a photo with her.