Chapter One: Good Looks Bring Instant Immersion

Hong Kong, Kowloon.

Inside an old residential building, a young man walks out of the kitchen carrying two large bowls. He casually flips open the newspaper on the table, and when he sees the date, the corners of his mouth twitch.

The young man's name is Jack Linton, living two lives, with the same name.

"Jack Brooks, what did you make? Smells so good!"

"Instant noodles."

"No way, noodles again? With your cooking skills, why do we have to eat noodles every day?"

"You're poor and lazy, and I'm lazy and poor."

"Fair point!"

"Slurp! Slurp~~~" x2

……

Before crossing over, Jack Linton was a collector of calligraphy and painting artworks, buying at low prices from struggling artists and reselling them at reasonable prices to those with an eye for art.

He inherited the family business—a storefront passed down from his father—and lived a carefree life.

In his line of work, it was all about fate!

If a customer thought a piece had collectible value or potential for appreciation, Jack Linton didn’t need to say much—just ask if they preferred WeChat or Alipay.

If they weren’t interested, even if Jack Linton talked it up to the heavens, claiming the artist was Van Gogh reincarnated and the piece was priceless, it was all useless.

If they didn’t like it, they just didn’t like it.

He couldn’t say he’d go three years without a sale and then live off one for three years, but life was indeed comfortable—after all, his clients were never short on cash.

His career was so-so, but his love life was quite fruitful; several girlfriends all thought they were Jack Linton’s one and only.

So, he had no reason, nor any desire, to transmigrate.

But now, here he was—a 23-year-old fresh graduate, just out of school, penniless and with nothing.

Start a business?

Very difficult. He’d only been able to live carefree before because he’d inherited his father’s connections. Starting from scratch, he had no idea how things would turn out.

This time, aside from being a few years younger, it was a loss no matter how he looked at it.

Fortunately, though he was confused at first, Jack Linton quickly accepted reality—his name hadn’t changed, and his looks were still on point.

Just as handsome as before!

Put it this way: now, looking left he saw Andy Lau, right—Daniel Wu, ahead—Louis Koo, behind—Nicholas Tse, above—Tony Leung, below—Edison Chen. Cover his face, and he was Michael Tse.

Instant immersion!

The anxiety and uncertainty of transmigrating, the confusion about the future—ninety-nine percent of it vanished, replaced by hope for his new life.

For no other reason than this: with these looks, he was already winning at the starting line.

Bidding a tearful farewell to his past life and the ex-girlfriends who were about to find out the truth, Jack Linton began to look to the future, pondering how to live this life to the fullest.

Actually, it didn’t matter if it was exciting or not—he was a simple man.

A thatched cottage, a cup of tea, a plot of land, a hundred million in savings—not too much to ask, just enough to get by.

Looking to the future had to be realistic; even dreaming had to be grounded. Any ambition or aspiration without a foundation was just daydreaming.

A total waste of time—no different from slow suicide.

This stumped Jack Linton a bit. Maybe it was because he’d crossed over during an adjustment period, and the more he adjusted, the hotter his body felt.

He got a high fever on the spot!

His brain wasn’t fried, but the things in his head got scrambled.

His memories were a mess—aside from what he’d learned from books, everything else was a blur. The social background of the current era was a tangled mess, like it had been censored.

After sorting through it for a while, Jack Linton finally got a clue: he was currently in early 1990s Hong Kong, right in the midst of its golden age.

He was late, but not too late—if he worked hard, it wouldn’t be hard to carve out a good future.

Jack Linton knew exactly what the golden age meant, and even more what the early 90s meant. Before transmigrating, all those IT tycoons had started out in this era.

For the next twenty or thirty years, nothing would beat working in the internet industry.

As long as he could dig up his first pot of gold during the golden age, by clinging to the right people and riding the wave, he could easily reach the pinnacle of life—becoming the man behind the big shots.

At this moment, a registered letter arrived for Jack Linton, sent from Japan.

A Japanese exchange student in his class—a classic rich kid—had taken a liking to Jack Linton’s mind and wanted to bring him to Japan to start a business, even preparing a plane ticket for him.

Coincidentally, this rich kid’s thinking aligned perfectly with Jack Linton’s—he also thought IT had potential.

Jack Linton sorted through his memories, marveled at how sharp and visionary his rich classmate was, and then tore up the plane ticket.

Go to Japan to do IT? Was he crazy or just crazy?

Jack Linton scoffed. Anyone in the know knew that Japan’s IT industry had never really taken off. Even in 2012, everyone was still using flip phones, office grandpas only knew how to use fax machines, and the Minister of the Internet couldn’t even send an email.

Doing IT in Japan? That would really mean your brain got kicked!