My name is Changsheng, a black cat who accidentally ate the fragments of Nuwa's sky-repairing stone.
From the time of Dayu's flood control to the Han Dynasty, I have witnessed countless joys and sorrows.
I once took shelter from the rain in Jiang Shang's fish basket and listened to him and the King of Zhou planning to attack the merchants;
I also passed the shade under Old Master Kong's dilapidated carriage and saw him grieving over the collapse of rituals and music.
On the top of the Qin Palace, I watched with cold eyes as Zhao Gao called a deer a horse;
In Weiyang Hall, he sighed again at Sima Qian's tears dripping on the bamboo slips.
The saddest thing was by the Wujiang River - when Xiang Yu's head rolled down, his tail swept over my bloody beard.
Now I am taking a nap on a tile in Chang'an, with a piece of prophecy written under my paws that says "Those who succeed the Han Dynasty should be Tu Gao"...
Suddenly my tail hurt, and it was a child with missing teeth pulling me: "Mom! Look, this black cat is so fat!"
