Chapter One: All Beginnings Are Difficult
Jade dew withers the maples in the forest,
The air of Wu Mountain and Wu Gorge is bleak and cold.
Waves on the river surge to the sky,
Clouds and wind on the frontier cast shadows on the earth.
Across the boundless desert wasteland, a solitary figure appears on the horizon, lonely and forlorn.
Staring at the blurred city walls in the distance, Li Yu wept.
It was too much—after half a year of trekking over mountains and rivers, he had finally reached his destination. Dragging his exhausted body, he shook his backpack and trudged toward the far-off city.
The mighty Wei River flowed through the entire city of Xianyang, winding between palaces and nurturing this eternal metropolis.
From above, Xianyang sprawled across the land, stretching nearly three hundred li, with pavilions, towers, and thousands of homes. Wide avenues crisscrossed the city, connected by covered walkways and corridors, forming the most prosperous capital of the era.
In an unremarkable wooden hut at the edge of Xianyang, Li Yu carefully examined the jade in his hand—the very object that had brought him here, to the Warring States period before Qin’s unification.
He still remembered clearly how he had set out alone to travel, to ease his mind and see the legendary Lord of the Ten Thousand Mountains.
He had just reached the region of Buqing Mountain when suddenly, the ground collapsed beneath him, and he fell into a snow-covered ice cave.
The pit was nearly twenty meters deep, with a sloped side like a steep slide. Even so, Li Yu was dizzy and terrified, and it took a long while before he could collect himself to look around.
A thick layer of ice covered the rock walls. There was no hope of climbing out, so he could only proceed deeper into the cave. With the beam of his flashlight, he could see that the cave was vast and deep.
Touching and observing the surroundings, Li Yu found what seemed like traces left by humans.
This discovery thrilled him—could it be an ancient ruin? A tomb, perhaps?
If it had been carved out, there should be another exit, he thought.
But hope faded quickly—the entrance led to a single passage, with no branches.
His observations convinced him further that this was a man-made cave.
The clearest sign was a stone table, carved by hand, at the deepest part of the cave. On it lay a fist-sized piece of jade, translucent and striking.
Li Yu picked it up to examine its quality—light in the hand, smooth to the touch, but he couldn’t tell its material.
Beside it sat a white porcelain bottle, gleaming like snow, capped at the mouth. Li Yu opened it and shone a light inside, discovering a sticky substance. He sniffed it—
No foul smell; rather, a faint medicinal fragrance. He dared not touch it.
He capped it again. It might be a treasure, but he didn’t want to risk it—if it turned out to be poison, he’d die here, with no one to collect his corpse.
Next to the bottle was a sheepskin scroll.
Li Yu grew excited, opening it to discover a simple hand-drawn sketch of the human body.
He was beside himself—his mind jumped to Zhang Wuji, convinced Jin Yong had not lied.
But on closer inspection, he realized it was all erotic paintings, poorly drawn…
Li Yu was utterly disappointed, but still unwilling to give up. He studied it carefully from start to finish.
Certain—it was just a lewd scroll.
He wasn’t ready to give up, so he tried roasting it with his lighter. No reaction, except that he confirmed it was not made of sheepskin; it was fireproof.
But what use was that? As a youth of the internet age, though inexperienced, he’d seen plenty of similar material, and this childish comic held no appeal.
He tossed it back onto the table and began to feel the icy walls, searching slowly.
In television dramas, such caves always held hidden mechanisms.
An hour later, Li Yu sat hopelessly on the ground: nothing, a dead end.
He ate his last compressed biscuit, gazing up at the twenty-meter cliff.
He’d studied it for ages but could make no sense of it, feeling despondent.
Li Yu was an orphan, with no ties.
He thought back to when, at three years old, he was adopted from the orphanage—twelve years ago now.
The adopter was a renowned philanthropist, a national entrepreneur who had adopted many orphans.
Li Yu was one among them.
He was grateful, thinking he finally had a family and hoped to repay this kindness for life.
But after graduating from college at thirteen, thanks to his talents, everything changed.
His adoptive father wanted to arrange his marriage—a matrilocal union—with a woman Li Yu knew, whose intelligence was inversely proportional to her size, but whose father was powerful.
Li Yu couldn’t stand it, so he ran away, seeking solace and release for his frustration and helplessness.
He tried the satellite phone several times—no signal.
Despondent, Li Yu ate his last biscuit.
He looked at the porcelain bottle on the table.
He bit his lip.
After long contemplation, he lifted his head and drank it down.
…
It melted instantly.
He barely had time to taste it—
Suddenly, his entire body was wracked with pain, like an electric shock, twisting and convulsing him. Li Yu rolled on the ground in agony, full of regret…
He failed to notice the reaction on the stone table—the jade emitted a faint pink glow, slowly rising and floating toward Li Yu.
Just before losing consciousness, Li Yu instinctively forced his eyes open, gazing one last time at the world he loved.
I’m still a virgin… such regret!
That was Li Yu’s final thought.
…
He didn’t know how much time had passed—a day, a year?
Li Yu’s whole body was ice-cold as he slowly opened his eyes.
He looked around, dazed.
His mind was muddled; it took a while to recall what had just happened.
I’m still alive—
He laughed with all his strength, venting his joy.
Then another thought struck him:
What good is survival if I still can’t get out?
Then another idea:
Since I’m alive, perhaps the contents of that bottle are miraculous?
He grew excited again.
Test the effects?
Li Yu jumped.
What the—? He tried again. Still less than a meter.
Perhaps it has another function?
He clenched his fists and struck the wall.
He didn’t dare use full force, but his knuckles scraped a bit of skin.
He grimaced in pain: “What rubbish, must be expired!”
After a long while, Li Yu recovered and headed toward the cave entrance, hoping his phone might miraculously get a signal.
As he walked, things felt stranger and stranger.
At the entrance, he realized—the twenty-meter slope was gone. The cliff before him was barely three meters high, hardly a cliff, more a pit, just a bit taller than Yao Ming.
And the thick layer of ice had disappeared.
“Amazing!” Li Yu’s mind was short-circuited. Had he just slept through an entire winter? How absurd. And how had the cliff shrunk?
But the most important thing was to get out; once outside, there was hope.
He turned back into the cave, grabbed the jade, and put it in his backpack.
As for the bottle and the unknown scroll—let anyone who wants them take them.
He packed his things and tossed them out of the cave, took a running start, and climbed up.
Looking at the scenery outside, Li Yu, despite some mental preparation, was stunned!
No snowy landscape—birds sang and flowers bloomed.
There really were bird songs and fragrant blossoms, and nearby a clear lake.
Li Yu realized he stank unbearably; his body was covered in sticky, scorched residue, uncomfortable to the extreme.
He stripped off his down jacket—too hot—leaving only his underwear, and ran toward the lake.
…
After half a day lost in his thoughts, Li Yu gazed at the simple courtyard, reflecting on the hardships of the past six months.
He sighed.
He’d been in Xianyang for more than half a month; from initial shock to indifference…
Xianyang—probably the safest place in the Warring States.
He thought of the years ahead, when Qin would sweep the world, and only Xianyang would remain pure.
Why didn’t Li Yu, unlike other transmigrators, harbor grand ambitions of founding a dynasty, becoming emperor, and endlessly fantasize about immortal glory and ownership?
First, those are just fantasies; reality isn’t so easy. Generations of connections and resources are hard to break in this era.
Second, Qin’s unification is inevitable. Li Yu always felt Qin existed solely to unify, and when that ended, so would Qin—a touch of fatalism.
Third, Li Yu feared that his own butterfly wings might rewrite history, erasing even himself.
Would he still exist, then? Who could say?
Until one night, while out for a stroll, Li Yu’s outlook changed dramatically upon meeting someone.
It was a dark, windy night. As an unqualified transmigrator, Li Yu didn’t follow the custom of sleeping at sunset.
As the streets quieted and lights faded, Li Yu slipped out of the courtyard and wandered the streets, mainly to check out the nightlife of the era—curiosity being human nature.
At a corner, he suddenly heard a “whoosh” overhead. Looking up, he caught a glimpse—a graceful figure, crossing the rooftops in a flash, vanishing into the night.
Li Yu stood stunned for ages before running straight home, abandoning his stroll.
Back in his room, Li Yu sat on the bed, lost in thought, then burst out:
“Damn! Jing Ni! This is an anime world—no wonder everyone speaks Mandarin, communication is effortless. So it’s really a mysterious world!”
…
Recalling the fleeting glimpse, Li Yu savored it.
Though it was only an instant, Li Yu had a gift from childhood—
A photographic memory.
Long, shapely legs wrapped in fishnet stockings, a plump, firm peach-shaped bottom, a slender waist that fit perfectly in one’s hands, a proud, majestic bust, paired with a face sculpted from jade and flowing hair caught in the breeze—
Li Yu felt his spring had arrived.
He wondered what the officials of Qin were thinking—such a stunning beauty, bubbling with charm, yet made into an assassin? A waste!
What a sin!
Thinking of the beauties in the anime “The Qin Times,” none had happy endings—it tugged at his heart.
History’s environment was cruel; even the emperor’s mother ended tragically. Who else could hope for happiness?
But now, he was here.
Qin’s beauties—he would rewrite their fates. He was a lover of flowers.
After all, his childhood idols were the historical Cao Mengde and the fictional Wei Xiaobao.
Since this was an anime world, the butterfly effect theory didn’t apply.
He needed a proper plan.
Truth was, Li Yu had suffered greatly; the worst was using the toilet—public branches…
If only to improve his living conditions, he had to work hard.
He marveled at how he’d managed to endure these days.
The days of hiding, sneaking, and petty theft weren’t sustainable.
Yes, recently Li Yu had been doing petty things, including the house he occupied, which he’d observed for days to make sure it was vacant before moving in.
Having never stolen so much as a needle in his life, Li Yu felt deeply resentful.
Luckily, in the Warring States, nine out of ten houses were empty; otherwise, he’d have nowhere to squat—especially in Xianyang.
…
After much planning, at sunset, all was ready except for one thing.
Li Yu, holding a wooden box, walked toward Xianyang’s inner city.
This area was not as lively as the outer city—no noisy crowds, just rows of grand gates and walls, marking the homes of the wealthy and powerful.
He knocked on the northernmost door, with fist-sized rivets set in the fifteen-foot-tall vermillion gate, bronze lion rings solemn and dignified, proclaiming the family’s nobility.
Even the threshold was half a foot high—not worried about tripping.
After half a month of wandering, Li Yu had gathered all the information he needed.
This family belonged to none other than the pillar of Qin, the Grand General Meng Ao.
As the wooden gate creaked open, a servant appeared, dressed in livery, and asked, “Who are you looking for?”
Li Yu bowed slightly and smiled: “I am Li Yu. I have obtained a treasure to present to Elder General Meng, and hope to be introduced.” He opened the wooden box.
Inside lay an unsheathed dagger, dazzling under the servant’s lamp—clearly extraordinary.
The servant took the box and said, “Wait here,” then closed the gate.
As Li Yu was organizing his words to persuade Meng Ao, he listened for footsteps—
The gate opened again, but this time it was an elderly man, carrying a lantern and sizing Li Yu up.
“The General invites you. Follow me.”
He stepped aside and gestured. Li Yu thanked him and entered.
…
After passing through several courtyards, Li Yu estimated he’d walked nearly a hundred meters before stopping at a room.
The elder gestured: “The General is inside. Please.”
Li Yu bowed, straightened his clothes, and entered.
Inside sat an elder with a tiger-like build, kneeling at the table, examining the dagger. Beside him lay the wooden box and a sheet of A4 paper spread out.
Li Yu bowed: “Junior Li Yu, greets General Meng.”
The general looked up, surprised to see such a young man.
So young?
A hint of disappointment in his eyes.
Li Yu noticed and smiled:
“General, you see me as a youth, thinking I’m just another boastful theorist, all talk and no substance?”
The General finally looked at him seriously, pointing to the paper: “Is what you wrote here true?”
Li Yu smiled: “Truth can be tested. Qin is rich in talent—let the craftsmen examine it, and you’ll see. True gold fears no fire. Qin’s strength comes from welcoming talent regardless of age or origin. Do you agree?”
The General squinted: “That’s so, but the King is busy. If everyone recommended themselves to the King, it’s not practical.”
Li Yu, confident, replied: “You can first judge for the King. If I pass your scrutiny, you can introduce me later. Today’s iron-making technique is only one; I have more advanced salt-extraction methods than Qi, cement to strengthen walls, paper-making for mass literacy, and legal theories to aid unification. Which would you like to test?”
…
After a stick of incense, the gate of Meng’s mansion opened. Meng Ao himself, accompanied by servants, escorted Li Yu to the door.
Watching Li Yu’s departing figure, he looked up at the dark sky, wind stirring, full of emotion.
Turning to his steward, he said:
“Qin is about to change.”
Li Yu walked the dark streets, finally relieved. Broad interests did pay off.
Casual reading as a child had found its use—two thousand years later.
Many feelings—now only waiting remained.
…
Three mornings later, with a knock at the door, Li Yu opened to see Meng’s steward.
With a smile, he said: “I am Meng Lian, steward of Meng’s house. May I know your name?”
Li Yu nodded: “Junior Li Yu, courtesy Mengde, of Chu origins.”
Meng Lian said: “The General asks that you be ready at dawn tomorrow, to accompany him to Xianyang Palace.”
Li Yu bowed: “Thank you, Elder Meng. I am prepared and will not let the General down.”
He invited the steward inside, but the invitation was politely declined.
Li Yu closed the gate, looking at the papers prepared on the table—so precious he didn’t even use them for the toilet. Tomorrow, everything depended on them; all was set, and Meng Ao had provided the east wind.
“Come on!” Li Yu cheered himself.
He counted sheep, reciting the time, and again opened his eyes—he had insomnia!
Even the college entrance exam hadn’t kept him awake, but tonight he hadn’t slept at all, yet felt energized.
For tomorrow’s trial, he forced himself to rest, determined not to meet the future First Emperor with panda eyes.
He resisted the urge to get up, his mind racing.
He endured until midnight.
Up—papers folded—washed at the well—his hair, grown nearly to his shoulders, styled after late ’90s pop stars, hoping to change it when it grew longer. Closed the door—headed to the General’s mansion.
Arriving at the gate, he found several people already waiting, especially a striking black horse—strong and spirited, clearly a fine steed.
Li Yu envied it, admiring the horse. Soon, Meng Ao, surrounded by attendants, emerged.
Seeing Li Yu admiring his horse, Meng Ao smiled: “If you like, I’ll have one sent to you in a few days. Can you ride?”
Li Yu quickly bowed: “Thank you, General. I haven’t learned to ride.”
Meng Ao laughed: “It’s easy to learn. I’ll find someone to teach you—guaranteed. It’s late—let’s go to court.”
He mounted, and Li Yu followed.
As Xianyang Palace drew nearer, sedan chairs and carriages increased, until outside the gates, officials dismounted and walked in order.
Dressed in plain clothes, Li Yu stood out among the mostly elderly officials, highlighting his uniqueness.
They quietly observed Li Yu as he observed them—at least he saw one he wanted to see.
At the front, an old man glanced at Li Yu, then looked away, eyes forward as if nothing mattered.
He was the current power-holder of Qin—Lü Buwei. Dressed in luxurious robes, stern, his gaze revealed shrewdness and depth.
Everything seemed under his control—he was not to be underestimated.
Beside Lü Buwei walked another, with a kindly face—a smiling tiger.
“Squinting with a smile?” Li Yu thought. Anyone who smiled like that was a smiling tiger, hiding a knife.
He didn’t know his identity, but to walk with Lü Buwei meant he was among Qin’s few top figures.
“Could it be Lord Changping, that old schemer? Must pay special attention,” Li Yu mused.
As Li Yu quietly observed, suddenly a hand blocked his path.
He looked—Meng Ao nodded: “Wait here,” and entered the hall.
Li Yu could only watch, surprised at the many rules to see the King.
He idly studied the man who had blocked him.
By his dress, probably a eunuch—Li Yu wondered if he had been castrated.
Historically, not all Qin eunuchs were castrated; the full system came later.
Li Yu wanted to chat, to relieve pressure.
He tried: “I am Li Yu, pleased to meet you. Shall we be friends?”
…
Silence. The eunuch stared into the distance, ignoring Li Yu.
Li Yu’s mood for conversation vanished—he followed the gaze, wondering what drew his attention.
…
After half an hour, a eunuch emerged from the hall.
He beckoned Li Yu: “You—the King summons you!” Then turned and walked inside.
Li Yu habitually straightened his clothes, feeling inexplicably nervous. He took a deep breath.
He calmed himself, straightened his back, and entered.
In the grand hall, he was immediately confronted by a young man seated opposite.
Dressed in a luxurious black robe, his face handsome and stern, eyes bright, watching Li Yu enter.
He looked eighteen or nineteen—the First Emperor was indeed young.
Seeing the ancestor of China, Li Yu felt a small thrill, quickly suppressing his excitement.
He walked steadily into the hall, glancing around.
His gaze was soon drawn to the beaded curtain behind the King.
Though at a distance, he could vaguely see a graceful silhouette behind the curtain.
So she was here, too—
He quickly remembered where he was and corrected his gaze, bowing deeply with hands raised:
“I am Li Yu, courtesy Mengde, of Chu origin, disciple of Yue Pengju, a scholar.”
At this, all eyes turned to Lü Buwei, including the King.
Lü Buwei frowned slightly, glanced at Li Yu, and looked away, deep in thought.
The King spoke: “Li Yu, Elder General Meng presented something, said it was from you, capable of reforming iron-making tech—is it true?”
Li Yu looked up at the King and smiled: “My master traveled widely, learned a set of iron-making techniques in a remote land, and improved them. He taught me, and now, in these chaotic times, I wish to help the King end the strife, so I came to Qin. The people have suffered war too long; all they desire is peace.”
Many in the hall were moved—this youth was remarkable, his vision impressive, and the contempt in their eyes faded. Lü Buwei glanced at Li Yu.
An official stepped forward: “There are seven kingdoms, and your origin is Chu—why come to Qin?”
Li Yu smiled: “The tides of history—division must end in unity. Among the seven, Qin is strongest, with seven generations of wise rulers. The trend is in Qin’s favor. When Qin unifies, all will be Qin’s people. Since ancient times, we are family:
‘Boiling beans burns the stalks,
Beans cry in the pot,
Born of the same root,
Why such urgency in mutual harm?’”
The King suddenly shouted: “Excellent! The people are one family—it’s time to end this chaos and bring peace.”
The officials cheered. When calm returned, the King continued: “Elder Meng said you have other gifts for Qin—what are they?”
Li Yu said: “Iron-making strengthens the army, but what I have now will strengthen the people. If every Qin citizen can read, Qin will be full of talent, like fish in the river—no fear for the future! I have a method—paper-making.”
He took out a sheet of paper: “Your Majesty has seen this before—how valuable do you think it is?”
The King recalled the scene three days before, when Elder Meng brought a wooden box with a dagger and a sheet of white paper, recording the iron-making technique, wondering what material it was.
Li Yu explained: “To strengthen the people, we must enlighten them, and the key is lowering the cost of knowledge. This is the tool for that; once mastered, a cartload of books requires only a few sheets, with lower costs, easier writing, and better preservation. And I have a method—later, books need not be handwritten, but mass-printed. Efficiency will be a thousand times higher, cost less than one percent.”
The King was shaken.
He stood abruptly, staring at the paper: “Present it quickly!”
If true, it would be a national treasure—how could the King not be excited?
The eunuch rushed to fetch it and handed it to the King.
The King read quickly, and after finishing, breathed deeply, instructing the eunuch: “Copy it and send it to the library; summon Chen Zhong.”
Then to Li Yu: “If this is as you say, I appoint you as Left Shuzhang—is that satisfactory?”
Then to Lü Buwei: “What does the Chancellor say?”
Lü Buwei stepped forward: “Your Majesty, if Li Yu’s gifts are as he says, they are national treasures—you have rewarded him lightly.”
He continued: “I propose Li Yu be made Left Geng—it is more suitable.”
Li Yu addressed the King: “I also have a salt-refining method, superior to Qi’s, with lower costs, and I offer it to Your Majesty.”
He produced another sheet and handed it to the eunuch.
The King, feeling numb, didn’t even look, but said: “If you have more, present them all now!”
Li Yu took another sheet: “This is a cement formula, for strengthening walls, building roads, new houses—easy to transport and use.”
He handed it to the eunuch, who delivered it to the King.
Li Yu produced another sheet: “This is an alcohol formula, for sterilization and inflammation; on the battlefield, wounded soldiers die more from infection than battle. This will greatly reduce losses.”
The eunuch hurried to the King.
Then another sheet, this time with a bow toward the beaded curtain: “This formula is for the Empress Dowager—a soap recipe, cleanses skin, whitens and beautifies, so the Empress Dowager may remain eternally youthful, radiant as a lotus.”
Everyone was stunned—such blatant flattery was unprecedented.
In the subtle ancient world, praise was usually restrained; Li Yu’s first impression was not of a sycophant, so no one reacted immediately. Instead, the Empress Dowager Zhao Ji burst out laughing.
From the moment Li Yu entered, Zhao Ji was captivated. His looks were striking: jade-like face, sword brows and starry eyes, plus a modern confidence—irresistible to the opposite sex.
Perhaps men felt nothing, but women saw differently, especially Zhao Ji, whose mind worked in unique ways.
Zhao Ji was complex—she could charm Ying Yi Ren thoroughly, or Lü Buwei wouldn’t have sent her to seduce him.
She was clever, yet a romantic—ultimately rebelling against her own son.
In fact, Ying Zheng’s tolerance for Zhao Ji was high. Did people really think he only discovered the affair with Lao Ai at the last minute? That underestimated him. If not for Lao Ai’s rebellion, Li Yu suspected Ying Zheng would have turned a blind eye, as moral standards in the pre-Qin era were far more open.
Just look at his grandmother, Mi Yue.
Most importantly, during the six years in Handan, only Zhao Ji endured hardship with him, raising him without letting him go astray, during the time Zhao hated Qin most.
So as long as Zhao Ji didn’t cross Ying Zheng’s bottom line, he tolerated her. It was simply his nature not to act like other children toward their mothers, leading many to misinterpret their relationship.
Zhao Ji laughed for ten breaths, feeling she hadn’t been so happy in ages.
She thought of her son, who never said pleasing words, always wore a stern face.
Ying Zheng was always like that—strong, stubborn.
She looked again at Li Yu, and a new idea emerged: “Li Yu, are your parents alive?”
Li Yu bowed: “Empress Dowager, I am an orphan, raised by my master, whom I followed in study. My master left recently, and I came out to assist the King in his conquest.”
Zhao Ji turned to Ying Zheng: “I find him clever and upright, and wish to adopt him as my son. Do you agree?”
The hall erupted—such flattery could lead to adoption as a royal brother. If successful, Li Yu would be the King’s sworn brother—a meteoric rise!
Lü Buwei stepped forward: “Empress Dowager, his origins require investigation, as do his gifts. It cannot be decided rashly.”
Zhao Ji was immediately displeased:
What does he mean? I rarely speak in court, and he denies me, saying I’m rash?
Calling me foolish? He should remember how he got his position. I only wanted a son I liked.
We were both assigned to assist the King by the late ruler, and I never competed with him, yet he won’t grant me a small request—how cruel!
Her eyes filled with tears.
Her “sob-sob” reached Ying Zheng’s ears—
He instantly felt a headache, about to speak, when a eunuch entered, followed by Chen Zhong.
Chen Zhong bowed: “Congratulations, Your Majesty. The iron-making method you gave me has proven highly effective, ten times better than expected. Truly heaven favors Qin!”
The officials cheered: “Heaven favors Qin, excellent!”
Even Lü Buwei smiled and applauded.
Only the man standing at the right looked grim for a moment, then put on a smile and joined in.
After the excitement, Ying Zheng beckoned the eunuch, who handed Chen Zhong a sheet. “See if this is feasible.”
Chen Zhong studied it carefully, and the King waited.
After reading, Chen Zhong bowed: “The salt and soap methods will show results tomorrow; cement takes two days, and paper-making, seven days at best.”
Ying Zheng considered, then bowed to Zhao Ji: “Mother, adopting Li Yu can wait. In seven days, when the results are proven, I’ll host a banquet and invite all officials to celebrate with Li Yu—then you can announce his adoption, making it a double blessing. Do you agree?”
Zhao Ji thought it over, admitting her decision was hasty, and nodded.
She looked again at Li Yu, who caught her gaze and winked playfully.
Zhao Ji liked him more and more—affinity matters in relationships.
Ying Zheng addressed Li Yu: “Mother’s adoption can wait. Given your great contributions, a small reward would be stingy. I appoint you Right Geng, with a salary of seven hundred bushels, a mansion, one hundred gold, and ten servants.”
He turned to Lü Buwei: “Does the Chancellor agree?"
Lü Buwei: "No objections.”
Li Yu reached into his robe, and everyone felt a jolt—was there no end to this? Even Ying Zheng’s expression grew complex.
But this time, Li Yu produced not one but a dozen sheets, arranged them, and handed them to the eunuch: “This is a book, drawn from my wide reading and travels, combined with the wisdom of predecessors and my own insights, for Your Majesty’s enterprise.”
Ying Zheng took it, and immediately was drawn in—the title “Great Unification” caught the eye, and he read eagerly.
The officials looked at each other, not daring to interrupt, waiting quietly.
After almost half an incense stick, Ying Zheng reluctantly looked up: “Qin is blessed to meet you. In seven days, I will appoint you Grand Supervisor.”
The officials were shocked—such a post hadn’t been filled since Lord Bai Qi; now it had a new owner.
Lü Buwei hurried to speak, but Ying Zheng gave him no chance: “Dismissed!” and left abruptly.
No room for argument.
He grabbed the unfinished papers and hurried out.
Lü Buwei’s eyes flickered, thinking deeply, glancing at the officials and at the silent Li Yu.
He said: “The King has dismissed you—what are you still discussing? Wait seven days for the decision; what’s the rush? Dismissed, go!”
He led the way out.
Many officials followed him, hoping to discuss matters, but he ignored them, striding out.
Meng Ao approached Li Yu, patting his shoulder: “Good lad, well done—a meteoric rise, and so young. The younger generation is truly formidable! Come with me?”
Li Yu quickly thanked him: “It is my honor, General.”
As he prepared to leave, a conspicuous punk appeared in his view.
Li Yu realized what Xianyang Palace had been missing—it was this person.