I transmigrated and became an ancient beast of burden, with signs that I might be headed toward the life of a chicken or duck next.
My major didn’t teach me how to make soap or explosives, and the market’s invisible hand wasn’t about to scoop me up either.
Maybe if I’d transmigrated into the ruling class, I might have wanted to stay in this dynasty.
But I know one thing very clearly: I just want to go home.