This is about the buring of the books in the beging but some of the dynastys. If someone reveiws I could add anouther chapter about other dyanstys


He held out his hand, gently clasping his hands around the falling flower petals. It was almost fall, almost time for animals to sleep through the winter. It was almost time for a new year and his first emperor. The chancellor, Li Si had proposed an ideal to burn the Hundred Schools of Thoughts, a book, known to scholars. The petals fall from china's empty palm and he stated to wander the gardens. It was a time for new begins and the end of a separation and begin of a more unified country. A giant wall was being created to protect him from western invaders. China knew he didn't have to worry about them but what was happening in his own country. Scholars were being buried alive so they won't spread the false teaching. He quietly stands by the koi pond in the shadows of the large towers made for the emperor. In the day, it was silent, except for the small bird or the sounds of swords striking and men training. But in the night it was different. He still could hear the screams of the scholars, begging to be kept alive. They didn't want their books to be burned so they were put to death. He shivers at the thoughts of their pain.

"What's going on here?" he had asked his emperor the day before. The other man was watching from the comforts of his palace, overlooking the fire and the burials.

"I am doing what's right for you, our country. My dynasty will survive for ten thousand generations." The emperor held up his fist, like e could clasp the whole dynasty. China winces as her heard the screams. Screams begging for forgiveness, life, just to escape their unavoidable death. But for what, who why did they? The emperor was like a god, someone whose rule was the way of life. He had not been aloud to leave the palace, because of fear. Never had he seen the outside before. Only had he heard of it, of the horror yet sometimes beauty. Of freedom and fatigues. Some were not as lucky to have a place like this he was told many of times.

"I'm only doing this for you." China was snapped out of his thoughts. He turns back to the remaining embers of the bonfires. The screams were almost gone by now, their faces probably frozen in the state of death in a scream. China shivers for a moment, unable to get the horror out of his mind.

"I will become the greatest emperor."

China waves away the memory like it was dust in the air. While he was drifting off, the sun had set and the nightwalkers had started to come out. He waited a while to see the fireflies. They always remind him of a family, something he wasn't able to have. Someone to care for you, like a sibling or a parent. Just someone. Yet he was alone. When he had first opened his eyes; he was in a field of grass. Someone had seen him and taken care of him even if he wasn't their child. China smirks, remembering the look on the farmers faces when they had found out that he was the new country. He had grown up quickly, not really having a real childhood.

What if there were more people like him? Another country?

But like he was told before, he was the only one.


He was wrong. His rule wasn't for ten thousand generations like he had thought it would but only a small time like ten years (or was it? Time seemed non-existed to him because of this cursed immortality.) China stood by the richly decorated grave of his first emperor. The wall that was thought of was still being built by the poor farmers. They would die there from the treacherous work and be buried on the spot. He could feel their pain, just like he felt for the scholars. The other farmers were building the frozen army, one completely made out of stone. Each one was different, almost like one for every human in his country. One of them looked like him. They had brought in a man thought to be the greatest artist. He had model the stone solider in the likeness of China so the emperor can be the ruler of him even in death. Always having a big ego. China walks away from the grave, shaking his head and waiting for the next ruler to come.


The westerners had come. Not in battle like his former ruler thought of but in trade. They had called it the Silk Road, because of the trade in silk that China had made. China was even sometimes on this road, shedding his royal garments for one of a farmer or merchant.

"You don't seem like a farmer to me." An odd looking man said to him one day. The man wore a cloth hung over him like a dress and a red cape.

"What is that supposed to mean?" China had snapped back.

"There's something different about you. Like you're more then a peasant." The man shrugs and gets an evil glint in his eye, "Are you sure you're not a lady?" China was enraged at this and punched the man into a wall. That was the end of his farmer career.


One dynasty had to fall in order for another to take its place. This time, many things had changed. The slaves that were in the palace now were replaced by paid servants. The new emperor had created programs that favored the less wealthy villagers. Chaos had sprouted and became constant. Headaches always came without warning, friends becoming enemies. Fellow people killing ion cold blood. The Yellow river had flooded, making a lot of farmers lose their homes and lives.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." Emperor Wang had muttered, pacing the floor angrily. China had seen this before. He was in Weiyang Palace, one of the many he had. The emperor left the room.

The man waited in the corridors for his target, the emperor. IF they even found out he was killing the emperor, the so called son of whatever high authority was up there, he would be dead. He heard a rustle of silk near him and he slinks closer, away from the hidden shadows. The emperor walked highly and gracefully toward whatever his destination was to be, the yellow clothes flashing. It was time. He leaps out of the shadows, striking the royal man where it would cause the most damage yet, he would still die slowly. Blood trickled down from the almost dead man, staining the gold clothe. The killer stands up and waits for his own inevitable death.

Likewise, this China had seen before. Dynasties rising and falling before him and people coming and going. Sometimes, China wished he could leave it behind and die but he had his people. Where would they be?


Like I said...reveiw and please tell me if you think this a story I should contine...Thank you