All the heavens, starting as the ruler of the universe

Xu Che sat in the prison van, watching as the soldiers dragged out one by one the people who had been imprisoned with him overnight.

There were no screams, no resistance, only a few muffled sounds, like chopping wood or mincing meat.

He dared not look, dared not listen, dared not think.

The sounds were short, stopping after a few.

Xu Che didn't know how long he had been huddled there until someone unlocked the prison van.

"Get down."

Xu Che raised his head and slowly climbed out of the prison van. His legs were so weak that he could barely stand, and he had to hold onto the railing to stay upright.

He didn't dare look to the side, but he still caught a glimpse of something dark red on the ground, a large patch that looked black in the morning light.

"You're lucky, kid. Our commander spared your life."

Xu Che stared blankly at the soldier, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but his throat felt like it was blocked by a rag, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.

The soldier didn't seem to care, he just tilted his head and gestured towards the camp with his lip.

"Let's go, don't keep the adults waiting."

Xu Che took a step and found that his feet felt like they were stepping on cotton, soft and yielding, and he couldn't put any strength into them.

He staggered after the soldier, his mind blank.

He didn't know why the commander had kept him, nor what awaited him. All he knew was that after the muffled sounds stopped, he was still panting.

The campsite was small, with tents scattered sparsely, and the smoke from cooking fires had not yet dissipated, leaving a mixed smell of burning firewood and cooking porridge in the air.

Several soldiers were squatting by the fire eating. When they saw him coming, they looked up at him, then lowered their heads and continued eating without saying a word.

The soldier stopped in front of a tent, lifted the curtain, said something inside, and then stepped aside.

Xu Che stood outside, looking at the tent, not daring to go in. The tent was dark, with only an oil lamp, the flame flickering slightly, casting a person's shadow on the tent fabric.

"Go in," the soldier urged.

Xu Che took a deep breath, lowered his head, and crawled inside.

The tent was darker than he had imagined. The oil lamp on the table illuminated only a small area, enough to make out the few bamboo scrolls and a rough pottery bowl on the table.

Behind the desk sat a man dressed in black armor with two bronze tiger heads on his shoulders; he was the commander who had ridden the horse yesterday.

He didn't look at Xu Che; he was looking down at a scroll of silk.

A pile of yellow clothes lay neatly folded on one corner of the table.

Those were his clothes.

His heart suddenly started beating so fast that he could hear it.

The commander put down the silk scroll, raised his head, and the light of the oil lamp shone on his face, half-lit and half-shadowed, making it impossible to see his expression, but his eyes were very bright, like the edge of a knife.

He didn't speak, he just looked at Xu Che.

Xu Che felt a chill run down his spine from his gaze. He tried to look down, but his neck seemed to be frozen and he couldn't move it.

"What's your name?" the commander finally asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"Xu...Xu Che."

"Xu Che." The commander read it aloud, as if savoring the taste of those two words.

Then his gaze shifted from Xu Che's face to the blue mass on the desk.

"That dress is yours."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Xu Che didn't speak; he knew that denying it was pointless.

The commander picked up the garment, grabbed it by the collar, and spread it out completely.

The yellow uniforms of the food delivery riders were glaringly bright in the dimly lit tent, with a bright red logo on their chests and reflective strips that shone like lightning under the oil lamp.

He stared at it for a long time, then looked up at Xu Che.

"I've never seen this fabric before. This color is unlike anything I've ever seen in the palace, among the common people, or even in the six kingdoms." He pinched the cuffs with his fingers and gently rubbed them. "The craftsmanship is something even the best weaving workshops in Xianyang couldn't produce."

Six Kingdoms? Xianyang?

Xu Che was startled. Qin State?

He put the clothes back on the table, pressing his finger against the logo: "What's this design?"

Xu Che glanced at the distorted character for "beauty": "It is a character."

"What character?"

"Beautiful, wonderfully beautiful."

The commander read it aloud, looked at the pattern again, and remained silent for a long time.

He didn't ask any further questions, but simply folded the clothes again and placed them on a corner of the table, moving very gently.

"Now you have two choices: hand over your weaving and dyeing techniques, or do what everyone else does."

He didn't explicitly say who he was referring to, but Xu Che knew who he was talking about.

Xu Che stood there, his whole body stiff.

He knew what these two choices meant: hand over the technology and be killed after being squeezed dry of its last bit of value, or not hand it over and die now.

He glanced at the yellow clothes on the table, then at the commander's sharp, piercing eyes.

He took a deep breath.

"I won't."

The commander's fingers stopped on the table. The tent was quiet, so quiet that Xu Che could hear the faint sound of the oil lamp wick burning.

He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse.

"I didn't make this garment; it was issued by the sect. I don't know how to weave or dye. I'm just a novice alchemist who only knows a few tricks."

"Sect?" The commander's eyes narrowed.

"Yes." Xu Che nodded. "My master taught me some things, but before I finished learning them, he sent me down the mountain to gain experience. These clothes were issued when I left; all my fellow disciples have them too."

He looked at the commander, trying to make his voice sound less shaky.

"When I say I'm a farmer, I'm not lying to you. The little tricks my master taught me are related to farming."

The commander didn't speak, he just looked at him.

That gaze was like a knife, scraping layer by layer, trying to peel him open and see what was inside.

Xu Che felt a cold sweat break out on his back from being stared at, but he didn't lower his head. He knew that if he did, he would lose.

"Alchemists," the commander finally spoke, rolling the word over and over in his mouth. "I've met alchemists—alchemists, fortune tellers, rain-summoners. They're not very capable, but they're very boastful."

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the table again. "So you're one of those sorcerers too?"

Xu Che shook his head: "I can't refine pills, I can't tell fortunes, and I can't pray for rain."

"So what can you do?"

Xu Che was silent for a while. He thought of the few white radishes in the thatched hut, the seeds that had been planted and harvested, and the field that only he could see.

He took a deep breath: "I can farm."

"My Great Qin has no shortage of farmers." The commander's voice was indifferent, as if he were talking about something insignificant.

He leaned back in his chair, and his fingers began to tap the table again, slowly, one tap at a time.

Xu Che took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a fresh white radish appeared out of thin air in his outstretched right hand.

The commander stopped pointing, his gaze fixed on the white radish, lingering there for a long time.