After waking up, Zhao Su, a history graduate student who was just coasting along, discovered he had become Fusu, the First Son of Great Qin.
The good news: His father was Qin Shi Huang, the greatest emperor of all time, and he had drawn a royal flush from the start!
The bad news: He was right in the middle of the “burning of books and burying of scholars,” passionately arguing with his own father. The next moment, he was going to be packed off to Shang Commandery to “supervise” an army of 300,000, supposedly to “get some grassroots experience.” Suicide?
What kind of joke is that? I, Fusu, need cash! No, wait, I’d never kill myself, not even if you beat me to death!
Sent to the frontier? That’s where the emperor’s reach is short and you can quietly make a fortune!
An army of 300,000? That’s the “Blade of Qin” I forged with my own hands!
And so... While Zhao Gao and Li Si were congratulating themselves over Fusu’s “fall from favor,” wave after wave of victory reports flew back to Xianyang.
“Report! The First Son has introduced new farming tools in the Hetao region. Potatoes and corn have yielded a bountiful harvest, with 800 shi per mu!”
The First Emperor: “Excellent! Truly excellent! This will ensure the people of Great Qin never go hungry again!”
“Report! The First Son has invented ‘cement’ and built a hundred-mile stretch of the Great Wall. It is impregnable, and the Xiongnu cavalry can only gaze at it in despair!”
The First Emperor, the construction fanatic: “Quick! Send me the cement formula at once! I want to use it on the Epang Palace too!”
In Xianyang Palace, Hu Hai was still crying and begging for toys, while Zhao Gao was still plotting how to falsify the imperial edict.
Meanwhile, far away on the northern frontier, Fusu already commanded a mighty army and was richer than a kingdom.
When the First Emperor fell critically ill during his eastern tour, the envoy carrying a cup of poisoned wine and a forged edict arrived before Fusu. All he saw was Fusu and the battle-hardened troops behind him, bristling with killing intent.
Fusu polished the tempered steel sword in his hand and smiled like a villain:
“So you’re Zhao Gao. I hear you want me dead?”
It's my type
A super, super nice book