When I woke up, my boyfriend, who has a doctorate in archeology, and I transformed into the most hated lazy couple in a small mountain village in the Tang Dynasty.
Our family is surrounded by walls, our relatives are sucking blood, and the whole village is waiting for us to starve to death.
Looking at the only "asset" in my hand - a rusty broken hoe, I turned around and asked my boyfriend: "I have a professional counterpart, what should I do?"
He pushed up his non-existent glasses, his eyes burning: "Put them on."
So, while the whole village waited to see us gnawing away at the soil, we dug out the royal cache that shocked both the government and the public. When the county magistrate wanted to take the treasure for himself, we backhandedly threw the chain of evidence into the case.
When our best relatives were lying in front of our door, crying and cheating, we took out a copy of "Tang Laws and Commentary": "Blackmailing cultural relics is punishable by an additional three levels of crime. Do you understand?" We just want to dig in the soil quietly and be a low-key historical porter.
But after digging and digging, how could this glorious Tang Dynasty become prosperous?
Later, a legend spread in the city of Chang'an: That strange couple from the countryside was good at fighting the prince at the top and punishing corrupt officials at the bottom. What they loved most was squatting in the pit and pulling out old things in disgrace. But the saint obeyed their advice, and the prince and princess chased him and called him sir. Someone asked about the secret, and we looked at each other and smiled: "Nothing but familiarity." "By the way, we regard the entire prosperous Tang Dynasty as our archaeological site."
