Cangshi

This is not a story about conquest, but an experiment on how to survive. Jingkang was disgraced and the world collapsed. The time traveler Zhao Que did not choose to be king or dominate, nor did he use gunpowder and soap to crush the ancients. In front of the most barren pass in the Taihang Mountains, he cooked the first bowl of porridge for the refugees and defeated soldiers, and established an iron rule: the old, the weak, women and children should eat first. Starting from this bowl of porridge, a monster named "Taihang" quietly grew. It has work points, and those who work harder will get more; it has blue rocks, and failures and lessons are publicly engraved in stone; it has social rules, and everyone presses the seal and abides by the contract, including himself. Here, technology is not the plaything of the rich and powerful, but the patience of the craftsmen who make the tofu whiter, the salt grains sweeter, and the ink stains lasting. Here, the war is not to open up new territories, but to maintain the humble rules of "the old and the weak are supported, and everyone has a living." Hit with one punch to avoid hundreds of punches coming. This is not the machinations of emperors and generals, but the story of how a group of little people forgotten by history—widows, blacksmiths, deserters, and scholars—recovered their dignity as "human beings" under a new set of rules and ignited the fire of civilization with their own hands. If you are tired of cool articles about time travel and being invincible, and tired of history being just a backdrop for personal ambition, welcome to Taihang. All progress here starts from squatting down. We have walked this road in the darkest years of the last century, and we are still guided by it and still believe in it. At the same time, you are welcome to question my avoidance and criticize my simplification, but this is also a tribute to the greatness of that period. There has never been a savior, nor a fairy emperor.