Niwan Ji

In the fifth year of Chongzhen, the land was bare for thousands of miles, and people died of hunger along the way. When Li Changan woke up, he became Li Sijiu, a serf from Zhangzhuang in northern Shaanxi. His back was branded with the character "Zhang" of his master's family, and his belly was filled with Guanyin soil. There is no system in this world, no spiritual revival, only real hunger, real whip marks, and the real wheel of history that is crushing billions of people into the abyss. He thought this was the worst possible time travel. Until he found half a volume of "The Art of Metamorphosis of the Cricket" under the pillows of the refugees who were starving to death; he picked up the charred "Earth Shame Furnace" in the ashes of the burned inn; and in the bloody mud at the entrance of the vegetable market in the capital, he touched the broken jade engraved with "The Niwan Palace is not cold, the ants can swallow the sky". It turns out that in this world, Tao and Dharma have never been cut off, but are just hidden in the dirtiest, most painful, and humblest cracks. When Emperor Chongzhen hanged himself in Meishan, when the Eight Banners cavalry broke through Shanhaiguan. The ants who couldn't survive raised their heads from the dust. They dug up the exercises that were buried with them, licked the traces of the execution ground, and secretly learned the secret blessings of foreigners. Li Changan held the hot pieces of jade in his arms tightly and swallowed the last mouthful of steamed bun mixed with blood and sand: "Depleted spiritual energy? Is God unkind?" "Then use the suffering in the world to refine the way of ants like us."