Peter Bolton didn’t believe that a wandering doctor from the Tang Dynasty could understand 21st-century English. No matter how early his history teacher had died, he wouldn’t have told him that as early as the Tang Dynasty, the Silk Road had already reached England! What’s more, the difference between ancient and modern English was no less than that between classical Chinese and Mandarin!

Since he was sure the shabby doctor couldn’t read English, Peter Bolton felt even less comfortable traveling with him. Although there wasn’t anything valuable in his backpack, and when he used it to smash the wild wolf, those things might have already been broken. But each of those items, no matter which one, was proof that he had once existed in the 21st century.

When he bought them, none of them were worth much, but now, to him, each one was priceless!

Thinking that the items in his backpack might have been damaged by the wolf’s head, Peter Bolton suddenly felt a pang in his heart. Looking back to make sure no one was around, he quickly stopped, opened his backpack, and carefully inspected the contents in the fading evening light.

The front and back covers of “A Song of Ice and Fire” were completely ruined, and the dozen or so pages next to the covers had been worn full of holes by rocks. However, thanks to the book’s thickness, the Huawei phone sandwiched in the middle of the pages only had a fine crack in the lower left corner of the screen, which didn’t affect any normal function except those related to the internet.

This immediately eased Peter Bolton’s tense nerves. He quickly unzipped another compartment and, full of hope, pulled out the solar charger from between two foam-padded layers.

The battery panel wasn’t broken! Only the plastic shell was dented, exposing the printed circuit board inside, but the board itself was completely intact!

A surge of genuine joy brought tears to his eyes. Sniffling softly, he continued hopefully, unzipping another hidden pocket and quickly pulling out its contents.

It seemed his luck ended there. The chocolate biscuits he used for a late-night energy boost had been crushed into a bag of crumbs. The sunglasses he used to protect his eyes were also shattered into a pile of plastic and glass.

Gritting his teeth, he tore open the plastic packaging and poured all the biscuit crumbs into his mouth, then, still unwilling to give up, reached into the next storage space in his backpack. His wallet was still there, containing a few red and green RMB bills and two bank cards. The cards weren’t broken, and they still held the hardship allowance the school regularly deposited for him. The problem was, where could he find an ATM in the Tang Dynasty? In the Tang Dynasty, no matter how much RMB he had, it was no different from waste paper.

‘At least it’s a keepsake.’ Unwilling to throw away the RMB and bank cards, he sighed softly, put the wallet away, and reached into the next hidden pocket. A Swiss Army knife from Yiwu, only the size of his pinky; a small bottle of medicated oil for repelling mosquitoes during evening study; and, a blister pack of the miracle drug Paracetamol, also known as acetaminophen. Two packs of cephalosporin that he had begged the school nurse for half an hour to get just yesterday!

The first two were completely undamaged, and although the latter two were squashed flat, their effectiveness wasn’t affected.

With a sigh, he put everything except the biscuit wrapper back in its original place. He closed his backpack and checked himself over again.

A blended-fabric shirt, a pure cotton vest, a synthetic leather belt, a pair of underwear, a pair of jeans torn by the wolf, a pair of travel shoes, and—one more thing—a high-quality fake Rolex “Green Submariner” from Yiwu!

That was all he owned. From now on, he would have to rely on these things to gain a foothold in the Tang Dynasty and strive to live like a real person!

“Heavens, if only you’d told me earlier, I would have at least brought some corn, chili, and potato seeds!” Having learned from a young age not to cry, he forced a bitter smile and muttered, then slung his bloodstained backpack over his shoulder and set off again.

Peter Bolton remembered Brian Brooks had said that Xiangji Temple was nearby, and the main gate faced the Ziwu Road.

Ziwu Road led straight to Chang’an, and as the capital of the Tang Dynasty, the people living near Chang’an were used to visitors from all over the world, so they probably wouldn’t refuse to teach him a few words of Tang dialect.

As it turned out, he was being too optimistic.

Two minutes later, just as his feet stepped onto the steps of Xiangji Temple, the temple’s main gate slammed shut with a “clang.” Immediately after, the clear and melodious sound of a bell rang out from within the temple, accompanied by curling smoke and the chanting of scriptures, announcing to him: “No visitors without invitation.”

“What kind of attitude is that? It’s not like I’m here for a free vegetarian meal!” Feeling a faint sting at the tip of his nose, Peter Bolton muttered a curse under his breath and turned to leave.

Annoyed as he was, he didn’t feel too disappointed. If the monks were warm and hospitable, history wouldn’t have left behind the saying, “After the assembly, everyone goes their own way; ashamed is the abbot at the meal bell.” He vaguely remembered that the stingy monk mentioned in the poem was from the Tang Dynasty, though the temple wasn’t near Chang’an.

Secretly, in his heart, he scorned all the monks in the world, then Peter Bolton set foot on Ziwu Road. After walking less than two li along the road, he saw a few households ahead.