In the autumn of 2023 AD, the cultural relic appraisal room of Beijing Poly Auction House was brightly lit.
Modern historian Han Feiyu is carefully studying a batch of cultural relics from the Wang Mang period that have just been put into storage. His fingertips ran across the cold blade of the bronze sword on the stand, trying to decipher the vague inscriptions on it. Suddenly, the blade buzzed and a strange bright light erupted, swallowing his consciousness instantly.
The world is spinning.
When I opened my eyes again, my nose was filled with the weird smell of dust and some kind of livestock excrement, which was completely different from the dry and constant temperature air in the museum. Han Feiyu sat up suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in his head, as if he had been hit by a heavy hammer.
He found himself lying in the grass beside a dirt road in a deserted suburb. He was wearing a dark linen coat that had been washed white and had a rough texture, with several holes in the cuffs. This was definitely not his crisp modern suit.
"What the hell..." He cursed in a low voice, his voice hoarse and dry.
Looking around, there are rolling loess slopes in the distance, a dusty dirt road extending into the distance, and the vague outline of a majestic ancient city. Several squeaking bullock carts slowly passed by on the road, and the driver's shouts had a thick accent that he had never heard before.
There are no tall buildings, no cars, none of the familiar modern signs.
That bronze sword... Time travel?
