The moment I opened my eyes, I found that I’d become a “System,” and I’d bonded with an extraordinary Host: Qin Shi Huang, Ying Zheng. He was in his teens at the time, locked in a battle of wits with a bunch of old foxes on the throne. Then I suddenly popped into his mind, nearly scaring him to death. He thought he’d gone insane.
I hurriedly said, “Bro, don’t panic. I’m here to help you build your career!” He didn’t believe me at all. He thought I was some kind of demon come to bewitch him.
Fine, then. I’d show him what I could do. I told him his neighbor Lao Wang (Lao Ai) was going to rebel, and how his forces would be deployed. He tried it, still half in doubt, and hey, it worked! The look he gave me changed a little. It went from “Kill this monster” to “This thing might actually be useful. Maybe I can put it to work.”
After that, things got busy. I helped him bring down Lü Buwei, persuaded him not to drive away talented people like Li Si, and even helped him stage a few “heaven-sent auspicious omens” to bolster his image. He grew more and more used to my chattering in his head. Sometimes, when my energy ran low and I was about to shut down, he’d find all sorts of ways to “recharge” me. I gradually realized that although this big shot was paranoid and hot-tempered, he was genuinely brilliant. I’d give him a rough idea, and he’d turn it into something spectacular.
By the time he unified the Six Kingdoms, we worked together much more smoothly. I handled drafting blueprints and calculating logistics; he took care of deploying troops and keeping the court in line. But we had our disagreements, too. He wanted to seek immortality, and I did everything I could to stop him. He wanted to burn books, and I nearly suffered a system error in my panic. We argued and gave each other the silent treatment. He got so angry he didn’t want to talk to me, while I felt so aggrieved I wanted to uninstall myself automatically.
