Survival comes first. In the wilderness, you can go without clothes, but you absolutely cannot go without shoes. Running, this instinct inherited from our ancestors, may be clumsy, but it is the most effective way to escape. Edward Carter knew that a water source in the wild was not a safe campsite. Clinging to the faintest hope, he forced himself to suppress his inner fear, staring intently at the spring, hoping that heaven would have mercy and return his backpack.

This was a virgin land where no one had ever set foot before, shrouded in a primordial aura. Edward Carter knew he was just a mechanical technician; if he wanted to survive here, he absolutely could not lack equipment. Only by retrieving his gear could he have food, only with tools could this fourteen- or fifteen-year-old body survive.

Edward Carter shook his heavy suede boots. The wet boots felt unbearably uncomfortable on his feet, and with every step, they made a “squelch, squelch” sound. He gripped a stick as thick as an egg in his hand, occasionally swiping at the grass to bolster his courage.

It seemed that the gods above had heard his plea. A green canvas strap floated out from the spring. Edward Carter's eyes lit up; he bent down, grabbed the strap, and pulled hard. With a splash, a backpack half as tall as a person shot out of the water. Edward Carter clung to the backpack for dear life—this was fate! He drew out his entrenching shovel with a backward motion, feeling a sense of relief settle in his heart.

Not far from the creek was a patch of red sandstone, barren and devoid of grass. Edward Carter moved his camp there, carefully clearing a flat spot. The red sandstone, baked by the sun, was scorching hot. He spread his wet clothes on the rock, confident that in less than an hour, they would be dry.

He set up the tent, leaving gaps on all sides to let the hot wind carry away the moisture. After checking that all his equipment was intact, Edward Carter let out a long sigh of relief. He had long since given up hope on the locator; the more precise something is, the more easily it breaks—this is common sense. The compass stubbornly pointed north, even though it was filled with water. After using the intersection method on the map to determine his position, he was surprised to find that his location hadn’t changed at all from before. How could this be? Could the compass be broken? After observing the plants, Edward Carter dismissed the idea that the compass was faulty. He was utterly baffled. His powerful knockoff cell phone had no signal whatsoever. Looking at the outline of the distant mountains, aside from being covered in trees, wasn’t this just that desolate Gobi?

Did the wormhole not change my location, but change the time?

Edward Carter buried his head between his knees, his head heavy, his mind in chaos. He had always thought the word “time travel” was something novelists made up, but now it was happening to him, plain and simple.

Edward Carter had always thought of himself as a homebody—his mother, wife, and son formed the strongest fortress in his heart. If it were just a matter of distance, he wouldn’t consider it a problem; even if he were on Mars, he’d kidnap a little green man to send him home. But now, it wasn’t about distance—it was a span of more than a thousand years. The disappearance of the forests in the northwest—no, to be precise, in central Long—happened after the Tang dynasty. The drastic climate change and population explosion caused an ecological catastrophe. As a native of central Long, Edward Carter understood better than anyone what all this greenery meant.

“Is it the Tang now? Or the Han? Or even the Qin? Please, let it not be the Northern and Southern Dynasties. I’m just a small person; I can’t bear too much responsibility.”

Edward Carter muttered incoherently to himself.

The air was pure, the scenery beautiful, even the rabbits nearby were gentle, hiding in Edward Carter’s shadow to comfort him.

The rushing creek washed away the crimson bloodstains. Edward Carter gazed at the plump rabbit with shining eyes—he was already starving.

Edward Carter chewed the delicious rabbit meat in big mouthfuls, grease occasionally dripping from the corners of his mouth. The campfire before him still burned, the sun had already set, and the sky was filled with red clouds pressing down on the mountain peaks. Flocks of birds, large and small, flew toward the distant forest. Edward Carter couldn’t help but feel a wave of sorrow, hugging half a roasted rabbit and bursting into tears.

The boundless chill woke Edward Carter from his sleep. Last night, it was as if he had returned to that noisy world—his wife’s tenderness, his son’s rebelliousness, his mother’s nagging—all replayed before his eyes. He wiped his face, dispelling the last trace of longing.

Survival was the most important thing now. Only by staying alive could he talk about anything else. Today, he would completely, thoroughly face his new life. The campfire was lit again, and the leftover rabbit meat from yesterday was reheated over the fire. With the boiling water, he slowly finished every bite. Food was precious. After sucking the last bit of grease from the bones, Edward Carter’s resolve was set.

He couldn’t live like a savage alone in this wilderness forever. Humans are social animals, with all kinds of emotional needs. Living alone would only lead to atavism—language skills would deteriorate, brain function would decline, while the limbs would become stronger. Edward Carter didn’t want to become a wild man on the steppe.

Where is the road? As Lu Xun said, when enough people walk, a road appears. But Edward Carter was the first to set foot on this wilderness, so he could only blaze his own trail. After walking less than a mile, Edward Carter was already out of breath. How much stamina can you expect from a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy, especially when carrying over thirty pounds of gear? No matter. Edward Carter decided to follow the creek—after all, it would eventually flow into the Yellow River.