"My name is Wang Er. The meanest dog on the streets of Chengcheng."
He introduced himself this way.
But there are thousands of kings in this world, who are as tall as grass and mustards, but as bright as stars. They destroyed the Jiannu, destroyed Donglin, and trampled on Europe.
No father, no mother, no land, no land, fighting for food, living as cheaply as a dog. That night, he thought he was the King of Heaven.
Then he died.
He died in the embers of the carnival, on the filthy kang, next to seven or eight robbed women.
When he opened his eyes again, there was a soul from four hundred years later in his mind.
The soul told him: The land under your feet is turning into hell. And what you want to do is not to be the three-day emperor - to make thousands of people like you stop being dogs.
From that day on, he was no longer called Wang Er.
His name is Wang Tianqing.
