The blazing light was accompanied by the whistling wind, and the meteorite falling from the sky accurately hit Chen Qinglai, who was investigating ancient agricultural sites in the Gobi Desert in Gansu. He felt a flash of white light in front of his eyes, as if he was drawn into a vortex of time and space, and his consciousness instantly pulled away from his body and fell into endless darkness.
When he woke up again, Chen Qinglai found himself lying on a hard bed, and the air was filled with a strong smell of medicine and decay. What you see is mottled earthen walls, and the window lattice is covered with worn window paper. Through the gaps, you can see the gray sky outside. This was not the inspection camp he was familiar with, nor was it a modern hospital. The pain that felt like falling apart all over his body reminded him that he was still alive, but something didn't seem right.
Memories came flooding back, and memory fragments that didn't belong to him forced their way into his mind, giving him a splitting headache. In the twelfth year of Zhenguan, the Qingyan County government office, the county magistrate... Punished the powerful... Was seriously injured in an attack... Countless unfamiliar words and pictures were tumbling in his mind, which were incompatible with his status as a modern archaeologist.
He sat up with difficulty and looked around. This was an extremely simple room, more like a dilapidated farmhouse than a county government office. The coarse clothes on his body were stiff and damp, and his palms were covered with rough calluses. They were not the hands of an archaeologist who had been dealing with cultural relics all year round.
