[First person] [Mortal flow] [Hard-core realism] [Three Kingdoms] [Survival in troubled times] [No system] [Bottom-level perspective] [Information difference and wits]
I don't have a name, they all call me A Shu. I don't know how many years ago in Jian'an, my village was massacred by a group of soldiers who didn't know who they belonged to. I hid in the cellar next to the cesspit, smelling the smell of blood outside, and thinking about how to get half a piece of bloody cake. Cao Cao? Liu Bei? Sun Quan? The great achievements of these princes, generals and ministers have nothing to do with me! All I know is that in this world, human life is worth less than grass, and horses eat better than people. The only thing I rely on is that I have a vague memory of this troubled time in my mind - they call this 'history'. I don't have the natural power of a general, nor the exhaustive strategies of a counselor. I only have the intuition of a mouse to seek good fortune and avoid disaster, and the ruthlessness to do whatever it takes to survive. This is the story of a mouse's survival in a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. When I finally had a mouthful of hot meat porridge after stepping on so many bones, I discovered that a hole in the world seemed to have been gnawed by my rat.
