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

A temporary resettlement site in Kuaiji Commandery.

The tents were made of coarse burlap and bamboo poles, one next to the other, swaying in the wind and rain.

The ground was muddy and slippery; one step could sink up to your ankle, and the soles of your shoes were covered in yellowish-brown mud. It took a lot of effort to pull your shoes out with each step.

The people who were rescued from the flood are now huddled in these tents.

Someone was leaning against a pillar, staring blankly into space, their gaze unfocused.

Someone was holding a child who still had a fever, with a burning forehead and flushed cheeks. The adults were wiping the child's face repeatedly with a damp cloth, but the fever wouldn't go down.

Someone sat at the entrance of the tent, gazing at the still murky sky outside, his lips chapped, without uttering a word.

They survived, but what happened after they survived?

The house is gone.

The walls built with loess and straw were softened and washed away in the flood, turning into piles of collapsed mud.

Furniture, farm tools, grain, clothing, and all the savings accumulated over a lifetime were buried beneath that muddy yellow silt.

The fields are gone too.

Those rice seedlings they had watered with their sweat all spring, those lush green hopes that carried the livelihood of their families for a year, were now all lying in the mud, rotting and withering.

Without a house, where will we live? Without land, what will we eat?

Those who died will not come back, and those who are alive do not know what to do tomorrow.

The atmosphere at the resettlement site was as heavy as if it were weighed down by a thick layer of lead.

No one spoke, no one cried, they were just silent.

That silence was more suffocating than wailing, as if all the strength had been drained away by the flood, leaving no room for even crying.

Just then, a group of officials walked in from outside the resettlement site.

Their clothes were covered in mud, their shoes were soaked, and some of them were using wooden sticks as walking sticks.

They entered the tents and bowed to the silent people one by one.

"Fellow villagers, His Majesty has decreed—"

The silent people raised their heads slightly.

"Due to the floods in Kuaiji Commandery, His Majesty, deeply moved by the suffering of the people, hereby issues an order—the affected people shall be exempted from taxes for three years."

There was a moment of silence in the tent.

"After the disaster, the Qin army will help you rebuild your houses. The silt and sand accumulated in your fields will be cleared away. His Majesty has also specially arranged for high-yield grain seeds—corn, potatoes, and sweet potatoes—to be distributed to the affected people first. The seeds have already arrived; once the floodwaters recede and the land dries, they can be planted."

The official's voice reached the ears of the people word by word.

Someone opened their mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again.

Some people slowly lowered their heads, and their shoulders began to tremble slightly.

Someone covered their face with their sleeve, but tears still seeped from the cuffs, dripping onto the muddy ground.

Three years of tax exemption, rebuilding of houses, clearing of fields, and distribution of grain seeds.

Those words were like sparks thrown into the nearly extinguished furnaces of the heart, gradually reigniting the warmth.

"Is His Majesty's decree... real?" An old man raised his head shakily, his cloudy eyes staring at the official who was reading the decree.

"It's true." The official knelt down, looked into the old man's eyes, and said earnestly, "His Majesty sent the Imperial Advisor to find grain seeds overseas, which have already been planted in Xianyang several times, yielding over thirty shi per mu. The Imperial Advisor said that it won't be long before all the people of Qin can grow this grain. You should start planting it and get your lives back on track."

The old man's lips trembled, and tears rolled down his wrinkled face.

He slowly and laboriously knelt down. The officials quickly helped him up, but the old man still struggled to press his forehead to the ground, his voice choked with sobs, escaping indistinctly from his throat: "Your Majesty... is benevolent..."

The people around also knelt down.

He murmured, "Your Majesty is benevolent" and "Long live the Great Qin."

The atmosphere at the resettlement site gradually changed.

That suffocating heaviness is slowly being replaced by something new.

The floodwaters have receded.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the murky water.

The water level gradually receded, revealing tree roots that had turned white from being submerged, the ruins of houses that had been washed away, and the field ridges and ditches covered with silt.

A day later, the turbid currents that had once submerged everything receded into the riverbed, leaving only a devastated land.

Everywhere was mud, broken wood, rubble, and all sorts of debris brought by the flood.

The air was filled with the smell of decay.

The Qin soldiers did not leave.

They were still wearing the same thin clothes that were soaked in mud and dried repeatedly, carrying shovels and carrying poles on their shoulders, as they walked into the land ravaged by the flood.

They dug through the silt, cleared the river channels, and removed the broken logs and rubble that were clogging the ditches.

They cleaned up the ruins of the collapsed houses, picked out the usable wood and stones, and stacked them neatly, waiting to use them during reconstruction.

They turned over the soil in the fields, shovel by shovel, breaking up and loosening the hardened mud and sand in preparation for the upcoming planting.

The soil, soaked in water for too long, was so heavy that it required all one's strength to dig it down.

Sometimes, while digging, the shovel would hit something hard and make a dull thud.

Some people thought it was a stone, but when they bent down and dug it open, their hands froze.

That was an arm.

The arm, already pale and swollen from being soaked, had fingers slightly curled up, as if it were trying to grasp something before it died.

The body was covered in thick mud, and the outline of the face was blurred, but it was still possible to tell that it was a young face.

Someone recognized the clothes; the fabric and color were exactly the same as those worn by the soldiers who had been swept away by the flood.

"They are...they are our brothers."

A soldier crouched down, reached out, and carefully brushed the dirt off the face.

His movements were very light; after a few strokes, his fingers stopped.

He recognized the man's features; he was a young man from the same county who had just joined the army last year. He was not tall, worked very hard, and had two prominent canine teeth when he smiled.

When the flood came, he was the first to jump into the water to save people, and he never came back up.

The surrounding soldiers gathered around and stood silently.

No one spoke; they simply stood there quietly, heads bowed, watching their brother, who had once shared meals and lodging with them, return to them in a way that prevented him from ever speaking again.

Someone took off their headscarf and gently covered the face, then squatted down and, together with the others, carefully lifted the young body out of the mud.

The body was placed on a clean wooden board and transported to an open space next to the resettlement site.

Several other bodies and remains that had been found were already laid out there, some belonging to soldiers, but more to civilians.

To prevent an epidemic after the disaster, all remains must be cremated as soon as possible.

As the flames rose, thick black smoke billowed into the sky, carrying a pungent odor that permeated the air above the resettlement site.

Some people knelt before the fire, weeping their hearts out, while others stood silently, their eyes fixed on the leaping flames, as if trying to etch that person's face into the deepest part of their hearts, so that they would never forget the last image of their loved ones.