In a quantum universe, at a fork in time and space, in the twenty-fifth year of the Wanli era, a salt porter is found dead on the salt trail by the Chishui River, with a two-finger-wide hole in the back of his head.
The county office issues six characters: “Collect the body and bury it. Hunt the killer.”
And with that, the case is closed. His son is fourteen, with a few pockmarks on his face. People call him Li Pockmark.
His father taught him one lesson with his life: in this world, things aren't decided by reason.
He learned that lesson that year, and for decades afterward, he never expected anything else.
He has no System, no supernatural abilities, and no master who appears out of nowhere. He knows only two things: treating mules and keeping accounts. He can calculate grain prices, porterage fees, travel expenses, and people's motives. This is not a story about someone with cheat-like advantages. It is the story of a man calculating, penny by penny, a way to survive with the worst hand in the late Ming. But there is one thing Li Gui can never calculate: how high he has to climb before no one can casually grind him into the dirt.
There is no golden finger, but the stories are one after another. It's interesting. I really want to see how such a miserable protagonist becomes an emperor.