The rusty iron door clanked and dust fell. In the cramped rental house, the air was as stuffy as a steamer. Jiang Yi sat on the plastic stool with only three stable legs, looking at the numbers on the phone screen. Balance: 250.00. The roar outside the door penetrated the thin wooden boards and reached the eardrums. "Jiang Yi! Don't pretend to be dead! I know you're inside!" "This area is full of demolition households, and you are the only one who has a lot to do! If you don't pay the rent, I will throw out all your piles of old books and burn them!" It was a middle-aged man with a sinister face, the landlord Lao Wang. Jiang Yi turned off the phone screen, his knuckles turning white. He was a top student in the history department and was unemployed after graduation. In this fast-paced era, no one cares about what people ate two thousand years ago, and no one cares about the talents of Emperor Qin and Han Dynasty now.
