The Bright Moon Shines on Qin

In the forty-seventh year of King Zhaoxiang of Qin, at Changping.

Gao Xin crawled out of a mound of 400,000 Zhao soldiers’ corpses and bound himself to the Imperial Ambition System.

The System said: Save Bai Qi and share your lifespan.

He saved him. His lifespan was cut in half.

The System said: Save Ying Zheng and share your lifespan.

He saved him. His lifespan was halved again.

The System said: Save Fusu and share your lifespan.

He saved him too. His lifespan was halved once more.

From that day on, Bai Qi’s sword never grew old, Ying Zheng’s empire never collapsed, and Fusu’s benevolent rule never came to an end.

Only Gao Xin grew older with every passing year.

He taught Ying Zheng the art of kingship, and Ying Zheng called him Sir.

He discussed warfare with Bai Qi, and Bai Qi called him Zixuan.

He paved the way for Fusu, and Fusu called him Teacher.

At Qingya Academy, there was also a female instructor named Ying Zhao, who kept the workshop lights burning for him all her life.

Everyone thought he was the Grand Tutor of Qin.

Only he knew the truth: he was just a candle. Once it burned out, it was gone.

But he had no regrets.

Because the wooden tablet in his arms was carved with hundreds of names: Su. Yuan. Amu. Qiwu. Heiji. Ji.

Those who should have been forgotten by history, he remembered for them.

Many years later, Qin banners flew across the seas, and envoys from countless nations paid homage in Xianyang.

Someone found a wooden tablet covered in names and an old spinning wheel engraved with dates on the hill behind Qingya Academy.

No one knew whose they were.

But everyone knew that someone had spent a lifetime helping the Qin dynasty avoid two thousand years of needless detours.