Tyrannical Qin: Starting from the Son-In-Law

When I was writing this story, I was always thinking: If a social animal domesticated by 996 was thrown into the Qin Dynasty where "if he misses the deadline, he will be executed", what kind of sparks would his brain circuits disciplined by the office building splash in the bloody Lishan execution ground? So there was Zhang Wujiu - this time traveler who carried the memory of "Zhang Wei" but had to bear the identity of "husband-in-law". Every breath he took was mixed with the grit of beans and rice and the salty smell of whips, and what beat in his chest was the opportunism cultivated in the office buildings of the 21st century. The pulley block is not a golden finger, it is a fragment of civilization. When I asked him to build a fixed pulley using the knowledge from elementary school handicraft class, his fingertips were full of strength - this was not cheating, but a struggle to grind modern common sense into the soil. The strange light in Wang Meng's eyes and the dead eyes of the prisoners were the weights I planted to weigh the weight of "wisdom" in the face of absolute power. Look at the "relative ease" with which the pulley pulls the earthen basket. It's more like the dry laugh of civilization in the face of tyranny: I can only help you so far. The appearance of Zhao Gao is a shadow that has been planned for a long time. When I described the python pattern on his sleeves, the pen tip was almost biting the paper - this eunuch who would cause a bloody storm in the future was now looking at the ants, scanning his cold eyes over the time traveler who was trying to use a wooden frame to lever his destiny. Hidden here is my malicious deconstruction of "historical inevitability": What if the opportunity to change history is just a meeting of eyes in the corner of a prison camp? When Zhang Wujiu clenched his hands in the dark,