There Are Still Seventeen Years Left in the Ming Dynasty, so I Decided to Ruin It

Li Ming's last memory was his workstation. Three forty-seven in the morning. The third all-nighter. The interface cannot be adjusted. The team leader @him in the group: I'll be online tomorrow morning. If anything happens, you'll have to figure it out yourself. Then my chest felt tight and my vision went dark. His last thought before his death was not "I'm going to die", but "This bug hasn't been fixed yet and it will explode when it goes online tomorrow". The instinct of a social animal is even harder than the desire to survive.