Ye Feng leaned against the rough bark of a spirit-rose bush, the garden shears heavy in his hand.
To any observer from the Jiang-Shen family, he was a man lost in a daze of mortal stupidity. But behind his dull, glazed-over eyes, a mind from a different world was racing with a mixture of irony and annoyance.
He was not the original "trash" husband.
That Ye Feng—a man of spineless devotion and tragic fragility—was dead, and he was the one who took over his body, a soul of a man from another world.
In his previous life, he live on a planet called Earth, and he had been just an ordinary salaryman, a guy who lived for weekend beers and dreaded Monday mornings.
His luck had been so cosmically abyssal that he was struck by lightning three times in a single afternoon, mind you, the sky was perfectly clear! With no clouds whatsoever!
