My name is Zhang Qiling. I only want to blend in with the archaeology team and quietly recover my lost memories. But they insist on livestreaming! When I instinctively pointed out Western Zhou inscriptions that even the professor couldn’t decipher, the comments exploded: “Who is this temp?” When a thousand-year-old blood corpse lunged at us, I whispered a single sentence to it, and it retreated peacefully. The livestream’s view count soared past a hundred million: “It’s staged! It has to be staged!” I did my best to stay under the radar, but this generation of netizens and the relevant authorities were far more perceptive than I’d expected. Then one day, the tomb chamber collapsed, and I had no choice but to hold up a ten-thousand-jin boulder with one hand. Watching the screen fill with comments, I sighed. “That’s it. There’s no hiding it now.”
