Li Qi, a social worker who was still revising the Q4 revenue PPT at three in the morning, opened his eyes and was lying on a wooden cart on the south bank of Zhangshui River - the back of his neck was stained with blood scabs, and three skinny wild dogs were staring at him with green eyes. The tip of his nose was filled with the smell of river mud and wild dog saliva. In the thirteenth year of the Qin Dynasty, in the meat grinder-like frontier of Qin and Zhao, what did he, a modern white-collar worker who had never even touched a hoe, do for a living?
