O Príncipe Herdeiro de Da Qian

“The heir has lost his vitality!”
“Someone, hurry!”
With the madam’s shout, the entire Emerald Immortal Pavilion shook.
Soon, a pale young man was carried onto a carriage.
“Tsk tsk, he actually played himself to death—this wastrel is doomed!”
“An heir dying in a woman’s arms, the first ever since the founding of Great Qian!”
“Great Qian’s most notorious wastrel—his reputation isn’t undeserved!”
Outside the Emerald Immortal Pavilion, the crowd jeered at the departing carriage, their ridicule unending.
The dignified eldest grandson of the Duke of South Suppression, instead of pursuing progress, spent his days indulging in brothels and finally met his end in a woman’s embrace.
Utterly absurd and laughable!

In a daze, Zhao Ang opened his eyes, feeling a splitting headache and weakness throughout his body.
“I’m not dead?”
“Five bullets to the chest and I’m still alive?”
That was Zhao Ang’s first thought upon waking.
Impossible! Those thugs were ruthless, all five shots struck fatal points, and he hadn't been wearing any body armor. He should have been a corpse.
“I feel, I have warmth—I’m not a ghost.”
“And this isn’t a dream…”
This realization filled Zhao Ang with wild joy.
A man who survived five bullets—who else but him could claim such a feat?

Just as Zhao Ang was basking in his own luck, he suddenly found his surroundings unfamiliar.
Antique bed, exquisitely carved canopy, screens rich with ancient charm, a refined treasure cabinet…
A sharp pain pierced his head