Daqin: The First Emperor Bestowed The Throne Upon Me

Xianyang City, Eastern Suburbs.

In an ordinary farmhouse, a young man gazed at a seemingly lifeless tree. His sharp, angular face bore an air of nobility despite his slightly sickly complexion.

"It will take at least three more months before this Longevity Tree bears mature fruit. Only then can I proceed with my plan," Zhao Yu murmured.

The tree before him appeared withered, its bark dry and cracked, its leaves yellow and drooping as if death had already claimed it. Yet, Zhao Yu knew better—this was no ordinary tree, but a Longevity Fruit Tree.

Half a year ago, Zhao Yu had inexplicably awakened in the Qin Dynasty, possessing the body of a young man who had perished from illness. A former professor of agriculture in his previous life, he now found himself living with the original owner's mother in this chaotic era of war and conquest.

Shortly after his arrival, a mysterious system activated within him, granting him a novice gift package containing the sapling of this Longevity Tree. However, the system had fallen dormant, and only by nurturing the tree to bear fruit could it be reawakened.

For the past three months, Zhao Yu had diligently tended to the tree, watering and fertilizing it daily. His mother, though bewildered by his obsession with what appeared to be a dying plant, never questioned him too deeply. She simply smiled and let him be, taking on the burden of all the household labor herself.

Then, tragedy struck. His mother succumbed to illness, leaving Zhao Yu alone.

Though they had been together for only three months, Zhao Yu had developed a deep attachment to her. In this war-torn land where Qin Shihuang's conquest of the Six States neared completion, food was scarce, and commoners struggled to survive. Yet, his mother had always ensured that his bowl was filled first, even if it meant she had to go hungry.

A few days ago, for the first time in this life and the last, Zhao Yu had wept until his eyes were swollen.

Now, after tending to the Longevity Tree, he returned inside, retrieved dozens of jars of aged wine from the cellar, and began drinking alone.

The rich, intoxicating aroma drifted through the air, catching the attention of two elderly men passing by. Their noses twitched, and despite their tattered commoner's robes, their bearing was anything but ordinary.

If a high-ranking Daqin official had been present, they would have been left utterly speechless—for these two elderly men were none other than Qin Shihuang (Ying Zheng) and the great general Wang Jian, traveling in disguise.

"This young friend," Wang Jian spoke first, his voice tinged with amusement, "this wine smells exquisite. Might you be willing to spare an old man a bowl?"

Zhao Yu looked up at the two seemingly unremarkable elders and, seeing no reason to refuse, gestured for them to sit.

Lao Zhao and Lao Wang took their seats on either side of Zhao Yu, each pouring themselves a generous bowl before tilting their heads back and drinking deeply.

"Good wine!" Wang Jian exclaimed, the potent liquor burning through his throat and settling like fire in his stomach. Never had he tasted such strong wine before, and after just one bowl, he already felt a little intoxicated.

Even Ying Zheng, known for his high tolerance, found himself astonished. The wine's depth and richness surpassed even the finest imperial brews of Xianyang Palace.

For a moment, both men exchanged glances, their interest in Zhao Yu deepening.

After several rounds of drinking, Ying Zheng, feeling rather content, finally asked, "Young friend, what is your name?"

"Zhao Yu. Just call me Lao Yu," he replied nonchalantly, still oblivious to the true identities of his guests.

"Haha, very well! Then I shall be called Lao Zhao," Ying Zheng chuckled.

"And I'll be Lao Wang," Wang Jian added, his face already flushed with drink.

A long silence stretched between them before Ying Zheng finally spoke again. "Lao Yu, you seem troubled. Has something happened?"

Wang Jian also leaned in, nodding. "Come now, share your burdens with us."

Zhao Yu stared at them. These two elderly men, dressed in simple garb, exuded an air of warmth and sincerity. Before he realized it, he let out a sigh and spoke from the heart:

"I am grieving. My mother has just passed away… and Daqin is about to fall into chaos!"

At these words, both men froze.

They had assumed Zhao Yu was merely drowning his sorrows in wine. But now, there was something else—something ominous in his words.

Wang Jian's fingers twitched. If not for the fact that Zhao Yu had just suffered a personal loss, he might have immediately called for the imperial guards. After all, to speak of Qin's downfall was a serious crime—treasonous, even!

Suppressing his alarm, Wang Jian cautiously asked, "Lao Yu… why would you say such a thing?"

Zhao Yu lifted his head and sighed heavily.

"Three months from now, the First Emperor, Ying Zheng, will die at Shaqiu. Zhao Gao will conspire with Li Si to forge the imperial edict, leading to the rise of Hu Hai as the Second Emperor. Soon after, Zhao Gao will betray him as well, and before long, the Qin Dynasty will collapse. The world will be plunged into chaos."

Silence.

Ying Zheng's expression darkened, his hands clenching into fists.

Wang Jian, overcome by shock, crushed the wine cup in his grip.

To claim that the First Emperor would die?

To predict the very names of future traitors?

Such words were heresy of the highest order!

Any other time, any other place, Zhao Yu's head would have rolled instantly. Ying Zheng despised any mention of his mortality, and those who dared speak of his death were met with execution.

Wang Jian instinctively prepared to act, but a sharp look from Ying Zheng stopped him.

Ying Zheng was furious, but at the same time, there was something about Zhao Yu—a strange familiarity. A sense of kinship he had only ever felt with his own son.

Moreover, Zhao Yu had spoken freely, unaware of whom he addressed. His words, though treasonous, held an eerie certainty.

Still, Ying Zheng scoffed. "Lao Yu, you should be careful with such reckless talk."

Zhao Yu shook his head. "Chaos is inevitable, but I hold a treasure that can save His Majesty."

Both men perked up.

"What treasure?" Wang Jian asked warily.

Zhao Yu grinned, rose to his feet, and gestured toward the farmland. "That tree."

Ying Zheng and Wang Jian turned, following his gaze.

Before them stood the Longevity Tree.

To their eyes, it was nothing more than a dying stump, its bark shriveled and its leaves brittle. The only unusual feature was a single budding fruit, wrapped tightly within its petals.

Yet Zhao Yu declared, "Three months from now, it will bear fruit. If His Majesty eats one, his lifespan will increase by ten years."

A flicker of pure, unrestrained greed ignited in Ying Zheng's eyes.

In his later years, nothing obsessed him more than the pursuit of immortality.

But as he gazed at the withered tree, his enthusiasm dimmed. How could such a pathetic thing grant eternal life?

Seeing their skepticism, Zhao Yu merely chuckled.

Good. Let them doubt. It was safer that way.

The three drank into the night, and only when the effects of the alcohol took hold did Ying Zheng and Wang Jian finally depart.

As their carriage sped toward Xianyang Palace, Wang Jian muttered, "Your Majesty, this man is… unusual."

Ying Zheng nodded solemnly. "Yes. But I am not so easily deceived…"

Yet, for the first time, he felt unease toward Zhao Gao and Li Si.

And deep within his heart, a spark of hope flickered.