I will make Qin Shi Huang immortal in the Great Qin Dynasty.

In the summer of the thirty-eighth year of the Qin Dynasty, in Kuaiji Commandery.

It has been raining for a full two weeks.

At first, the people only complained a few times, saying that there was more rain this year than in previous years, and the rice seedlings in the fields were probably a bit waterlogged.

No one expected the rain to keep falling, day after day, without stopping, as if a dam in the sky had been opened, and the rain poured down relentlessly.

The river overflowed its banks.

At first, it was just a shallow layer, barely reaching the ankles and calves, before seeping into the low-lying courtyards.

The people were still scooping water out, using wooden buckets and earthenware basins, with the whole family working together. The water kept flowing back in as they scooped it out.

Then the water rose even faster, reaching above knees and waists, flooding into the house and collapsing the mud walls.

The flood came.

The entire Kuaiji Commandery seemed to have been pressed into the bottom of the water by a giant hand.

More than a dozen counties were affected by the disaster at the same time, and the houses of hundreds of thousands of people were destroyed by the flood, and fertile fields were submerged under muddy mud and sand.

The rice seedlings that had just been planted, and the fields that carried the hopes of the people for the whole year, were turned into a vast expanse of water overnight.

Broken logs, straw mats, and animal carcasses floated on the water.

The survivors climbed to higher ground, onto rooftops, and onto treetops, soaked to the bone and shivering with cold, watching helplessly as their homes, where they had lived for half their lives, were swallowed up inch by inch by the flood.

Someone was holding a young child, standing in waist-deep floodwaters, gazing at their home in the distance, which was already half-submerged. Their lips trembled, and their eyes were empty and desperate.

Someone was crouching on the roof, huddled up, rainwater streaming down his back and into the rising water at his feet.

Someone knelt on the high ground, their hands braced on the muddy ground, their head bowed low.

The house collapsed, the fields were destroyed, and all the hard-earned possessions were washed away.

Those who survived didn't know what to do tomorrow, while those who didn't survive had already sunk beneath that murky yellow water.

Just when everyone was in despair, a team appeared on the distant horizon.

The procession was very long, moving slowly in the rain. They were wearing only thin shirts, their trousers rolled up above their knees, and carrying ropes, timber, food sacks, and some other strange items on their shoulders.

Someone was pushing a cart loaded with grain and clean clothes.

Some people were carrying medicine kits filled with emergency herbs and wound medicine.

Someone was carrying rolls of thick hemp rope and sturdy wooden stakes.

Their faces were damp and weary, but they didn't stop walking, step by step, trudging through the muddy road into the depths of the disaster area.

When the local people saw the group, they were initially on guard.

They were from the Chu region, and the Chu state had only been destroyed a little over a decade ago. The older generation still remembered what the Qin army looked like when they entered the city.

The army, clad in black armor and wielding long spears, marched in formation with perfectly synchronized steps, exuding a chilling sense of oppression.

Those who lost loved ones in the Qin-Chu war, those who were forced to move to Xianyang after the fall of their kingdoms, and those who lived in fear under the Qin laws—their impression of the "Qin soldiers" remained forever that of the conqueror's army.

But this team is different.

They had no weapons, no armor, and none of that terrifying, chilling aura.

They carried grain and ropes on their backs, and held carrying poles and oars in their hands.

They waded through waist-deep floodwaters, took an old man off a crumbling roof, carried him on their backs, and led him step by step to higher ground for safety.

"Grandpa, don't be afraid, we're here."

The soldier's voice was muffled by the rain and wind, but the old man heard it clearly.

His tears suddenly welled up.

Then more and more people saw the group, saw the bags of dry rations they carried on their shoulders, and saw the strips of cloth hanging from the bamboo poles they held in their hands.

The soldiers beside him were also shouting, their voices rising and falling in the rain: "Old man, this way!" "Is there anyone over there?!" "Watch your step, there's something in the water!" "Hold the child tight, I'll carry you!"

Someone saw the words on the cloth strip, hesitated for a moment, and then read them aloud in a low voice: "When one place is in trouble, help comes from all directions—the soldiers of Qin have arrived."

Those dozen or so words were like a beam of light, shining into those hearts chilled by the flood.

Some people staggered towards the column with wooden sticks, some struggled to move in the water, some were helped out of the water by soldiers and carried out of the water, and many more were helped to higher ground, wrapped in dry clothes and given a piece of dry food.

The dry rations were coarse flour cakes, hard and cold, requiring a long chewing time to swallow. But those who took the cakes had their eyes redden after just one bite.

A small team received a message that there was a high ground five miles away where more than a dozen people were trapped.

Rainwater is pouring in from all directions, and that high ground will soon be completely submerged. If they are not evacuated as soon as possible, those people will not be able to hold on for long.

The team set off immediately, carrying ropes and planks, wading through chest-deep water, towards the high ground.

The water flowed swiftly, with turbid waves churning, and an undercurrent would occasionally surge past one's feet, making it difficult to stand.

Someone fell into the water, choked on some muddy water, was pulled up by his companion, coughed twice, and continued walking forward.

When they arrived, the high ground had been flooded, leaving only a small patch of land at the top.

A dozen or so people were crammed into that tiny space. Some were holding children, some were supporting the elderly, and some were huddled up, shivering. Their clothes were soaked through, and their lips were purple from the cold.

A little girl huddled in her grandmother's arms, too cold to speak, only able to make whimpering sounds.

The soldiers did not hesitate.

The leader of the squad immediately ordered the crossbows to be taken out.

A long, thin rope was attached to the crossbow bolt. One person raised the crossbow, aimed at a large tree near the high ground, and with a whoosh, the crossbow bolt, along with the rope, passed through the water and embedded itself in the tree trunk.

Then, secure the other end of the rope to your side, pull it taut, and form a cableway spanning the water.

A soldier grabbed the rope and then jumped into the water.

The current instantly swayed him off course, but he gripped the rope tightly and inch by inch moved toward the other side.

The muddy floodwaters poured into his mouth and nose, choking him and causing him to cough repeatedly, but he never let go of his hand.

He finally reached the top of the hill, soaked to the bone, and after catching his breath, he shouted to the shivering people, "Quick! One at a time!"

The little girl was the first one brought over.

The soldier held her in his arms; the little girl clutched his clothes with both hands, her small body trembling. He looked down at her and said, "Don't be afraid."

Then he gritted his teeth and jumped into the water again.

The current became stronger, and he was swept around on the water, swaying from side to side. He gripped the rope with his left hand and held the child tightly with his right, the veins on his arm bulging.

He gritted his teeth and cursed, as if angry at himself or at the awful weather, and slowly moved to a safer side.

When the little girl was handed over, she burst into tears.

She turned to look at the high ground that was mostly submerged, and then at the soldier who had carried her there. He was slumped on the muddy ground by the bank, panting heavily.

The second, the third, the fourth.

One after another, people were brought over. The elderly, children, and a woman who had just given birth were carried on a door panel, and several people worked together to move her from the high ground to a safe place.

The current grew stronger and the water level rose higher and higher. When only two civilians remained on that high ground, the water had already risen above them. Waves crashed over, and a surging undercurrent rushed past beneath the ropes. Two soldiers who were pulling the ropes were suddenly pulled. One of them slipped and lost his grip on the rope, and was swept into the floodwaters. He struggled on the surface for a moment before disappearing into the murky eddies.

People on the shore shouted, "Catch him! Catch him!"

He was swept away, his figure bobbing up and down on the water, and was instantly pulled dozens of feet away.

His comrades ran wildly along the shore to chase after him. Some jumped into the water to try to pull him out, but the current was too strong. He was like a fallen leaf blown away by the wind and disappeared into the surging waves in the blink of an eye.

Everyone was stunned.

The last remaining civilian on the high ground watched as the young soldier was swept away by the flood and disappeared from sight.

His lips trembled, his knees buckled, and he knelt on the wet ground. Looking at the soldiers still trying to cross the river, he suddenly kowtowed violently and roared at the top of his lungs, "Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer!"

"It's not worth it! It's not worth it to save me!"

He lay there, trembling, his forehead buried deep in the mud, crying out, "Go, go... don't lose another life because of me..."

The team on the opposite bank stood in waist-deep water, across a torrent dozens of meters wide, watching the man kneeling and weeping. Wiping the rain from their faces, their voices carried on the wind: "His Majesty said—no one can be abandoned."

After saying this, he waved to his comrades beside him, his tone resolute: "Set up the rope, go and rescue them!"

Finally, the last person was also rescued. When he was pulled ashore, he was soaking wet and collapsed in the mud.

His gaze was fixed on the high ground that had been submerged by the flood, then he turned to look at the soldiers on the riverbank who were counting heads; one person was missing.

That person is gone forever.

Those young faces, those young people he didn't know at all, some of them have already fallen forever in this water.

The rescued people knelt in a row, kneeling on the muddy ground, their foreheads pressed against the soil, rainwater and tears mingling and flowing into their mouths, salty, bitter, and scalding.

Some people muttered, "It's not worth it, it's not worth it," while others gripped the soldier's clothes tightly, their lips trembling as they couldn't speak.

Rescue efforts are ongoing.

More teams arrived from all directions, including soldiers, farmers, and ordinary people who came to help.

The dry rations on the cart were still being distributed, and the banners were still being held up in the wind and rain. On those soaked strips of cloth, whose original color was no longer recognizable, the words "When one place is in trouble, help comes from all sides" were still stubbornly printed.

The rain didn't stop, and the water didn't recede, but more and more people were being evacuated from the flood, wrapped in clothes, stuffed with bread, and placed in temporary tents on higher ground.

Along the riverbank, there were supply distribution points at regular intervals. Soldiers stood guard in the rain, handing dry rations to each rescued civilian. In the water, people waded through waist-deep muddy currents, checking again and again to make sure no one was missed.

Some of the people rescued from the flood glanced back at the place that was once their home but is now a vast expanse of water, then looked at the gray team that was continuing to advance in the rain in the distance, before turning their gaze away, wrapping their muddy dry clothes tighter around themselves, and following the team step by step toward safety.