I'm Xiang Yu's Younger Brother. I Know Nothing About History and Just Want to Farm

I woke up to find that I had transmigrated into Xiang Mu, Xiang Yu's younger brother. The time: after the Battle of Julu. The place: the site where 200,000 Qin soldiers were about to be buried alive. Looking at my bloodthirsty older brother, ready to give the order, then at the densely packed prisoners kneeling before us, I had only one thought, and it wasn't about benevolence or righteousness.

“Brother! Brother! You can't kill them! We'd be losing out!”

Under the astonished gazes of the Hegemon-King of Western Chu and his court, I counted on my fingers and laid out the numbers for him. “Brother, these aren't 200,000 mouths to feed. They're 200,000 free laborers who won't even demand a nine-to-nine, six-day workweek! Put them to work building roads, digging canals, and handling infrastructure, and we'll max out the KPIs for our great cause!”

From then on, history started veering off course.

At the Feast at Hongmen, Fan Zeng frantically signaled my brother, who wavered. I slammed the table, picked up a bowl of “high-concentration sugar water” I'd mixed myself, and said, “Brother Liu, you look a little unwell. My brother asked me to give you a boost. Drink up, it's an energy tonic!” Watching Liu Bang get so overwhelmed by the sweetness that his eyes rolled back before Zhang Liang carried him away, I quietly took the credit.

When my brother divided the realm among the feudal lords, I brought out a little charcoal and drew up a KPI evaluation chart, teaching him how to manage his “regional branches.” When his army ran short of food, I silently produced “bronze canned meat” and “compressed biscuits,” putting Chu's military logistics a thousand years ahead of the world.

Gradually, the way everyone in the army looked at me changed. My brother Xiang Yu went from calling me “my silly little brother” to saying every day, “My brother is a god sent from heaven. Whatever he says goes!”