The Forgotten Heiress: Rules of Rebirth

When Sang Ning blinked awake in a rural farmhouse, the 21st century gained its most anachronistic socialite.

The former crown jewel of Ming Dynasty aristocracy-trained from birth to command households and outmaneuver concubines-now found herself reborn as Nan Group's long-lost heiress. Her "sister"? A champagne-drenched fraud waving a Stanford diploma. "Your honors thesis plagiarizes 14th-century embroidery manuals," Sang Ning remarked over afternoon tea, her hanfu sleeves fluttering like war banners.

The Nans soon learned bloodlines matter: This "peasant girl" restored ancestral shrines in a week, turned board meetings into imperial courts, and made their five-star chefs kneel when serving shark fin soup.

Meanwhile, Beijing's most notorious heir was breaking his own rules. Jason He, whose Lamborghini collisions made tabloid gold, found himself obsessed with teaching modern customs to the time-traveling noblewoman:

"Handshakes require... seven seconds of eye contact." His thumb stroked her pulse point.
"Corporate dinners mandate... partner dancing." His grip slid lower at the waltz's crescendo.
When she pressed a jade hairpin to his throat after an attempted goodnight kiss, the billionaire playboy grinned through bleeding lips: "Careful, princess. In this era, drawing blood means signing marriage contracts."

In a world of silicon valley and silicon fillers, a queen from China's golden age is rewriting the rules of power-and passion.