My name is Lu Zheng, and I am a thief.
Others stole money, but what I stole was different - I took out a copy of "The Sunflower Book" from a martial arts novel, and sold it to the whole world for ten taels of silver each. Half a year later, the leader of the martial arts league changed his career and opened an embroidery workshop; I took a small green bottle from the world of immortal cultivation, took it home to water pothos, and worked as a nutritionist for Qin Shihuang; I touched a Buddha's Wrath Lotus from the Fighting Continent, and almost exploded myself into a roast duck.
Later, a crazy old man left me a letter with a sentence on it: "Hands are not for holding things, they are for opening doors."
Before I even understood what a door was, a woman who called herself a "fellow" came to the door. Her abilities are about the same as mine, but she doesn't steal - she steals lives. She stood at the door of my house, tilted her head and said with a smile: "Your hands look delicious."
Since then, my living room has become increasingly crowded. Qin Shihuang sat on the sofa and watched the agricultural channel, the naughty children from the wilderness were lying on the carpet and opening potato chips, and the immortal cultivators were planting orchids on the balcony, with an insect-proof charm posted in the flower pot. And while I was squatting in the middle, eating braised chicken, I suddenly figured out one thing - the boundaries between these worlds seemed to have been thinned by me.
The old man said not to touch the ninth door.
But I found that the same person was standing behind the eight doors in front of me.
