Repaying Debts to Become a God

I died. An investment bank MD, jumped off a building. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a coffin. On my back, a blind little sister was trembling, blood smeared all over my neck. A system pop-up appeared: Debt of 20 taels, doubles every 72 hours, execution if overdue. Below it, a note left by Guan Zhong—don't trust it. Seventy years have passed, and the words Guan Zhong didn't finish before his death, I'll say them for him. Seven debts, seven lives, seven secrets swallowed for half a lifetime. Only when I chased down the last debt did I understand—what Guan Zhong owed wasn't money. It was an apology. I said it for him. Dawn broke. — Description from novelcodex.org