I was alone and had no one to depend on. Both my parents were dead, and my older sister and I had only each other. Then she was gone too, leaving behind a phone that held a recording of her voice.
I died suddenly after staying up all night organizing files, and transmigrated to another world. I had no golden finger, no internet, only a phone with an offline version of Doubao and the last echo of her voice.
To keep that voice from disappearing forever, I had no choice but to fight to stay alive.
No electricity? Build a generator with my bare hands.
No food? Improve farming and build irrigation works.
No medicine? Refine biochemical compounds and fight epidemics.
No stability? Use engineering knowledge to improve people's lives, and a historian's perspective to shape the world.
Everyone praised me as a once-in-a-generation genius who rescued the Qin Empire from collapse and saved the people from disaster.
Yet no one knew that I held up the entire realm merely because it was convenient.
I never sought power over the empire or a place in the history books.
All I wanted was to be able to softly call out every day in this strange world a thousand years in the past:
"Sister."
And hear that gentle reply:
"I'm here."
