In 1820, at the end of the Jiaqing era, social unrest had only just begun to settle. The treasury was empty, opium was flooding in, and the Western powers were watching hungrily. Beneath the fading glow of a golden age, danger was gathering, and the currents of history were surging in the dark. The traditional agrarian economy remained dominant, thought and culture were growing conservative, and the dynasty was quietly approaching a historic turning point. The Chinese nation and peoples around the world were undergoing a transformation unlike any in a thousand years.
A young man who firmly believed in the materialist conception of history accidentally plunged through a rift in time and space. “Transmigrate? That sounds absurd!” Yet this absurdity had befallen him!
Faced with the violent collision between agrarian civilization and the industrial tide, he chose to plant the seeds of modern science deep in this land. There would be no legend of a lone hero, only a collective awakening guided by historical materialism: steam turbines roared in the shipyards of Vladivostok, laborers were roused through night schools, and technological revolution accelerated industrialization as ideological enlightenment brought people together to resist. When the golden finger became a catalyst for collective wisdom, and individual destinies merged with the global anti-colonial tide, a path unlike that of rising hegemons unfolded in the East: the chains would not be broken by a savior, but by an awakened people. The words “Long live the great unity of the peoples of the world,” displayed in the most sacred place in the motherland, would ultimately be forged together by the hammers and sickles of workers across the globe.
(Note: The story includes some revolutionary camaraderie; personal feelings serve the collective cause.)
