Great Qin: I Really Never Meant to Become the Great Qin's Imperial Preceptor

"The plowshares gleam, and work begins in the southern fields. They sow the hundred grains, their seeds full of life. Someone comes to visit you, carrying a square basket and a round hamper. Their meal is millet, their hats woven tight. They wield their hoes, clearing thistles and weeds..."

March 21, 220 BC, the spring equinox.

Nearby, farmers were working the fields together. Someone from one family carried a square basket and a round hamper filled with millet to visit the fields, just as described in the Book of Songs poem "The Good Plowshares."

He rubbed his lower back, sore from bending over for so long.

Across the fields, a handful of old farmers about his age wiped their sweat with yellowed hemp cloth, chatting as they called out to the family bringing food to the fields.

Even now, Zhao Yang, a university freshman, could never have imagined that one day he would transmigrate to ancient times, let alone get the chance to work in the fields alongside farmers from the Qin Dynasty.

He pressed a fingernail into a blister on his palm, wincing at the pain. At the thought of having another ten or so acres to plow, Zhao Yang fell into utter despair.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.