The solar system is broken

The sun is cruel.

The writer decided to make some ice assassins to relieve himself.

Ice in summer comes from two sources, one is ice storage in winter and the other is ice making.

To store ice, you need an ice cellar. Bin Feng in the Book of Songs says in the seventh month that on the second day the ice is cut and washed away, and on the third day it is collected in Ling Yin. The so-called Ling Yin is the ice cellar.

However, the ice cellar writer cannot count on it. Not to mention that it requires the aristocracy to have the financial resources to build it. Even if the ancestral temple has it, such strategic resources are not within his reach.

Making ice on a sunny summer day without a refrigerator and ice maker is not an easy task.

But this is not a problem for the writer. He knows an ancient method of making ice by boiling water.

"Huainan Wan Bi Shu" records, "Put the boiling soup into an urn, mix it with new ingredients, and let it sink for three days to complete." (Note: Shen, Shen, the ancient word Shen mostly means Shen generation, and the surname means later)

The theoretical basis is very simple. The boiling water is kept in an urn, and then the small top and bottom large mouth container is sealed with precision silk products and sunk to the bottom of the well for sealing. A piece of ice can be obtained in three days.

Boiling water has a higher temperature than normal temperature water, which seems more difficult and unreasonable. But this is the brilliance of ice making technology.

Chinese scientists in the 20th century also conducted detailed investigations on this theory and gained a relatively clear understanding.

Boiling water to make ice essentially changes the ambient air pressure and increases the freezing point of water, thereby achieving the purpose of making ice.

The lower the air pressure, the higher the temperature at which water turns into ice, so ice can be made even if the temperature drops to zero without refrigeration.

The depth of the water well is 3 meters, and the temperature will generally not be higher than 10°C regardless of the cold or summer. In some areas, it can even reach 3-4°C.

The boiling water emits steam to expel the air in the urn, and it can naturally freeze under such air pressure.

But this matter is not that simple. The freezing point of water will increase by 0.008℃ when the atmospheric pressure is lower. If a thoughtful person substitutes this data into the Clapeyron equation (pv=nrt), you will get an opposite conclusion. In this environment The air pressure simply cannot reach the level of freezing.

Of course, there are other explanations for this phenomenon, the most famous one being the Jorumson effect.

The principle is not complicated, that is, when gas flows through porous materials, it will produce irreversible adiabatic expansion, which will lead to a sudden change in pressure, and then cause drastic changes in internal and external temperatures. This is also the principle of modern air-conditioning liquefaction devices.

Moreover, there is great importance in choosing an ice-making container. It has a large belly and a small mouth. After pouring boiling hot water into the container, the water vapor in the container will drain out a large amount of air. If it is submerged again, the internal and external temperature and pressure will suddenly change. Basically, the container In a vacuum state, water vapor will condense.

However, this explanation is not convincing. The Brick family only made ice slag, and the success rate of ice preparation was zero.

But what does this have to do with writers? As long as it can be used, the principles and so on are all nonsense.

"Xiao Li~" The writer held an earthen pot and ran forward in a hurry.

His hands quickly turned blue, smoke emitted, and his face twisted into a twist.

"You... put it down quickly," Xiao Li, who was shaking the wheel, was shocked. With a whoosh, the shaft of the well fell into the well with a hemp rope and a whoosh.

"How to put it..." The writer slowly lowered his body and gently put the jar on the ground.

However, his hands were not oiled and stuck perfectly to the earthen pot, which was used to roast pig's trotters.

"Silk~"

Looking at the blue hand, the writer didn't know what to say.

As a Blue Star person, his DNA was recorded with red as life, but when it was replaced with blue, he felt like his hands were covered with dye.

"Writer, don't you feel pain?" Xiao Li grabbed the writer's hand and poked it gently.

"Si~" The writer narrowed his eyes and raised the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sorry~" Xiao Li was frightened.

The writer said seriously, "It's very sensitive there."

"Hmph~" Xiao Li threw the writer away.

That’s right~ The writer scratched his head.

The writer's hands were itchy, and the wounds quickly scabbed and fell off, and then new flesh grew, white and tender.

The recovery ability of the blue-blooded man is really outrageous. After just a few tight breaths, the burn on his hand was almost healed.

"Hello~"

Xiao Li threaded a hemp rope through the small ear of the earthen pot, then tied a tight knot and handed the rope to the writer.

"I'm talking about writers, it's better for you to avoid getting hurt." Xiao Li stretched out her hand to turn the well pot, but suddenly stopped, and she stopped talking.

"Won't it recover?" the writer asked strangely.

Xiao Li looked around.

The curtains made of bamboo strips on the cloister fluttered gently in the wind and made a rustling sound.

There were no warriors on guard there, they were all outside the courtyard.

At this point, they are protecting the oak tree from having its golden branches removed.

"Most people with blue blood commit suicide," Xiao Li whispered, with a look of fear on his face.

The banners of the ancestral temple fluttered in the wind, making a fierce sound.

There was no one there, but there seemed to be many people.

"Why."

Xiao Li took another look around, and after confirming that no one was around, he said in a cryptic tone, "They can't stand the pain."

Although people with blue blood have a much higher recovery ability than ordinary people, their pain nerves are constantly stimulated, leaving them on the verge of death.

If you do it too often, you will naturally have a nervous breakdown.

Compared with physical fragmentation, psychological fragmentation is more fatal, as it will make people lose their desire to survive.

"Run away if you have the chance..." Xiao Li whispered.

What else does the writer want to say? Under the curtain in the corridor, a pair of legs suddenly appeared. Like a frightened bird, Xiao Li turned around and quickly shook the windlass on the well.

Someone.

The writer carried the earthen jar, came to the well, and carefully placed the earthen jar into the well.

The earthen jar gently pushed away the slight ripples and slowly sank.

The writer looked at the slightly distorted face in the water, and a special emotion was fermenting.

Is he another person who treats himself as a tool?

He punched his fingers and pinched them slightly, his knuckles turned white.

Death has no meaning in the game. At that time, dignity was precious no matter where it was.

A person like Ziwei is destined not to become a monarch. He exposed his cruelty too early.

The place between the emperor and his master, the place between the king and his friends, the place between the overlord and his ministers, the place between subjugation and military service! ("Warring States Policy")

If he wants to seize power, what he has to do should not be to use violent means to win over his subordinates.

And using a kind of gentleness and domineering is the way a monarch should do.

Ziwei is still too young. Even if the writer gives him skills, he will fail sooner or later.

"Writer," Xiao Li shook his head at the writer, with words written all over his face not to act rashly.

The warrior, armed with a short sword, walked down the steps and walked a few steps in the backyard. He glanced at the shackled writer, turned around and left without saying anything.

As the warrior walked away, Xiao Li breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the ground with his back against Igaki.

"What a risk!"

Encouraging slaves to flee was punishable.

Xiao Li is not a blue-blooded person. If she is beaten severely, she will have to lie down for a long time.

"Xiao Li~"

With a dark face, the writer also sat down with his back to Igaki.

"What?"

"Do you want to get out of this yard?" the writer said seriously.

Ziwei? If you want to control me, then it depends on whether you have that ability.

"Shh~" Xiao Li raised his finger to signal the writer to be careful what he said.

The writer seemed very indifferent.

Seeing how much Ziwei attaches importance to him, he may not be ready to kill him for a while.

"Do you want to?"

Xiao Li gritted his teeth and nodded, "Think".

As slaves of the Zhou people, it was common for merchants to be beaten and scolded, and they were even killed during sacrifices.

Xiao Li was not killed because he was diligent and beautiful. But he had had enough of this kind of life.

It's not easy to escape. There are more than a dozen warriors, each equipped with a sword, and they are also very tall.

If you fight with strength, you will undoubtedly hit the stone with an egg.

The writer still has shackles on his hands, so how can he escape?

"I will find a way," the writer reached out and touched Xiao Li's head.

Xiao Li nodded as if she understood. She didn't take this matter too seriously, she just regarded him as a beautiful vision.

"Writer, did you live in a world where clan leaders often killed people?"

The writer shook his head, "There is no sect leader."

"That means no one killed anyone."

"Um."

The breaking of divine authority, the great progress is that all people are born equal, and people are no longer at the mercy of others, even though they are not good enough.

When a time-traveler reaches a low-level social system, he is most likely not to achieve a great career, but to be stifled by the system at that time.

"Do you want to go back?" Xiao Li raised his head, his dark eyes were very clear.

"It's all the same."

Looking back on my own experience, it doesn't seem to be any better than here.

The writer suddenly thought of a good idea and asked Zi Wei to wet his shoes.