I transmigrated and became an emperor, inheriting a country ravaged by three years of drought, with corpses strewn across the land.
The treasury was empty, the palace served thin gruel, and the powerful hoarded mountains of grain while the people were reduced to selling their children for food.
The ministers lamented the lack of money, never suspecting that I came from the twenty-first century.
Inspect the granaries? Not enough. What I want is to confiscate the entire city’s wealth.
Plant in spring? Too slow. What I want is to grow grain in the dead of winter.
Send messages? By relay horse? No.
With a single lamp, I can send messages a thousand miles through the night, flickering on and off.
I encoded 0s and 1s into secret records, transmitted images at the speed of light, layered encryption, and built an ancient version of the internet.
The officials called me a tyrant and said I was Heaven’s punishment?
I laughed. Heaven’s punishment didn’t bring this disaster. Heaven is afraid.
It fears I’ll overturn the old rules and change this rotten world.
If it won’t let crops grow in winter, I’ll plant them anyway.
If it wants everyone in the world to starve, I’ll dig for coal, smelt iron, build reservoirs, divert water, and fish the seas.
If Heaven stands in my way, I’ll defy it.
This isn’t the story of a dynasty’s fall. It’s the beginning of a new world.
