Become a God from Siberia

Bragging feels good for a while, but lies lie in the crematorium. Jiang Feng boasted to his classmates that "Lake Baikal has 10,000 acres of farms." He was recorded on the screen and posted a funny voice, and 90,000 people were waiting for him to fall over. That night, a silver-gray icon appeared on his phone. On the first day after landing in Siberia, the temperature was minus 29 degrees. The wooden house had no water or electricity, so he struck seven matches to light the stove. There is a vast snowy field outside the house, and there is only one million rubles sent by the system in his pocket. Others spend money to pick up girls. He rides an electric donkey in the ice field to connect water and power grids, sells pine nuts to repair scrap metal, and drives Jingdong into Soviet Russia. Later someone asked him why. He recalled that snowy night when an old repairman who had been unemployed for 23 years placed the toolbox left by his father at his feet. "After waiting for thirty-one years, the wait is finally here." Siberia doesn't believe lies. But it leaves a way out for those who lie.