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

After the flood receded, the soldiers stayed behind to help the people rebuild their houses, clear the mud from the fields, dig ditches to drain water, and sow new crops.

Those figures were busy in the fields. Some were barefoot, wading through the mud to help the people turn the soil. Some were standing in knee-deep mud carrying timber. Some were breaking the dry rations they received in half and giving one half to the hungry, crying child next to them.

After dark, they sat under a tree at the village entrance, chatting with the village elders and listening to their stories about this land that they had never heard before.

Someone was watching this scene from the shadows, their eyes filled with complex emotions.

They had witnessed tyranny and the arrogant way government officials came to collect taxes in the village.

They had never seen an army like this before, arriving not with swords and bloodshed, but with food and shovels.

He worked alongside the villagers in the mud and water, laughing as he worked. He even ate his meals squatting on the edge of the field, eating exactly the same food as the villagers.

Some of them began to waver.

A middle-aged man who had once worked as a clerk in the royal court of Chu squatted in his leaky thatched hut, listening to the laughter and hammering sounds of Qin soldiers helping their neighbors repair their roofs outside the window. He clenched his fists and remained silent for a long time.

He recalled the legends he had heard in his youth about the past prosperity and power of the Chu Kingdom, and then he thought of the land before him that was gradually recovering its vitality.

The people who rebuilt the houses were not from the State of Chu, but soldiers from the State of Qin.

He didn't incite anyone. One evening, he quietly burned the old flag with the character "Chu" written on it that he had hidden away.

There was another person, a young man in his early twenties, tall and thin, who was a descendant of a collateral branch of a declining noble family in the State of Chu.

He was once the most radical, writing several secret letters on scrap paper late at night to contact people in several nearby counties who also longed for the old country.

He once thought that this flood was the breach he had been waiting for.

But when he witnessed a young soldier being swept away by the flood while trying to save an old man he didn't know, something inside him was completely shattered.

He was in the crowd when the soldier disappeared into the water, and he watched as that young life was swallowed by the turbid waves.

He clutched the letter he hadn't yet sent; the paper was soaked through by the rain, and the writing was blurred into a mess.

He put the letter in his mouth and swallowed it.

They all knew that given the current state of the people, if anyone dared to jump out and incite them to rebel against Qin, those people, looking at the graves of the Qin soldiers who sacrificed themselves to save them at the village entrance, would probably beat the troublemakers to death on the spot.

The hope of restoring the nation is gradually fading.

They watched as the disaster victims emerged from despair, their eyes gradually brightening, smiles returning to their faces, and their perception of the Qin Dynasty changing inch by inch.

The newly built houses and replanted fields, the children running and playing at the village entrance, and the old people sitting on the doorstep eating their meals, all watched as Fusu and his officials led people to distribute grain seeds and edicts of tax reduction to each household.

None of these things can be associated with the word "tyranny".

Several people who had been hesitant and observing left their hiding place on a rainy night, leaving their meager travel expenses on the table with a piece of rough paper on top. The paper had no words on it, only a circle drawn on it.

Then they left, disappearing into the darkness. No one knew where they went, and no one ever saw them again.

The remaining people remained lurking in the corner, their eyes dim, as if all their strength had been drained away.

That flood destroyed their roots as well.

Throughout the Qin region, the pages of the Daqin Daily are meticulously recording the causes and consequences of the flood and the rescue process.

Reporters traveled between the disaster area and the printing plant, writing down the stories that happened during the floods, one by one.

After a soldier rescued an elderly man trapped in the flood, the man hugged him and cried like a child.

Young soldiers were swept away and never returned, while the rescued civilians knelt by the river and kowtowed repeatedly.

Some local residents voluntarily buried the ashes of the fallen soldiers at the entrance of the village, promising to offer incense and prayers for them for generations to come, so that those young names would not be forgotten.

Soldiers carried women who had just given birth through chest-deep floodwaters, each step feeling like walking on the edge of a cliff.

Some civilians brought hot porridge and dry biscuits to the rescue soldiers, but the soldiers gave them to the younger children among the disaster victims, while they themselves continued wading through the water, eating the cold, hard rations.

The printing plants of the Daqin Daily started work simultaneously in various counties and prefectures, printing page after page of reports overnight. The reports were bundled into stacks, loaded onto carts and post horses, and sent to all parts of Daqin along the imperial roads.

In those lands that once belonged to the six kingdoms, the imperial court deliberately increased the distribution of newspapers, sending people to read them aloud in the markets, circulate them in teahouses, and post them at the entrances of villages.

Those who couldn't read gathered in a circle, listening as those who could read read the contents of the newspaper to them, word by word.

"...A young soldier pushed the last trapped civilian to higher ground in the flood, but he himself was swept away by the torrent and never returned. After being rescued, the civilian knelt on the ground, crying out—it wasn't worth it, it wasn't worth it..."

Some of the listeners quietly turned their heads away and wiped their eyes with their sleeves.

"...The people of Kuaiji County spontaneously organized themselves to bury the ashes of the fallen soldiers at the village entrance and erect a monument in their memory. They said—they died to save us, and as long as our village exists, we will not let their lineage die out..."

Someone whispered, "Good people. The soldiers of Qin are good people."

A person nearby chimed in, "I used to hear people say that the soldiers of the Qin Dynasty were all wolves and tigers, killing and robbing civilians on sight. I actually believed it. Now that I think about it, it was all a lie."

The voices spread from one person to another, from one group to another, circling outwards.

The image of the Qin army in the hearts of the people is being reshaped bit by bit by these true stories.

The hatred and wariness that had lingered in the former lands of the six states for over a decade are being gradually covered and washed away by new stories.

The reports about the Qin Dynasty's disaster relief efforts in Kuaiji County, one after another, gradually accumulated into an invisible yet continuously surging force, prying away, pushing away, and replacing the original impressions and prejudices about the Qin Dynasty little by little.

At the same time, grain varieties were gradually promoted in various places, and schools were built in more and more places.

Those who had once opposed the Qin Dynasty now found it difficult to speak their minds as they looked at the thriving crops in their fields, listened to the children reciting their lessons in the school, and read the news in the newspapers about the court reducing taxes and encouraging farming and weaving.

Life is getting better day by day.

Not only in Kuaiji Commandery, but throughout the entire Qin Dynasty, in those lands once ruled by the six states, people's complexions are gradually becoming rosy, and their eyes are gradually becoming clearer.

When someone was resting on the edge of the field, they opened an old newspaper, pointed to the words "When one place is in trouble, help comes from all sides" and read them to their grandson, telling him what the words meant.

After dinner, some people gathered under the old tree at the village entrance to listen to literate people read newspaper articles about the disaster relief soldiers. After reading one article, they would be silent for a moment, and then someone would say, "They are all good men," and everyone would nod in agreement.

The space for maneuver for those remnants of the six former states who once tried to incite the people is shrinking at a visible rate.

They used to be able to find people willing to listen to them in some remote villages, intermediaries willing to help them pass on messages, and sympathizers willing to provide them with food and shelter.

But now, the doors to those places are closing one by one.

Those who used to listen to them no longer want to talk to them.

Those who were once willing to help them are now busy farming, studying, watching their children grow taller day by day, and seeing their rice jars fill up more and more.

The foundation of the Qin Dynasty is becoming deeper and more unshakable through these practical deeds and repeated efforts.