Henry Clark put that yellow bag aside, inside were several small paper packets. He then opened the packets, revealing seeds of various colors, shapes, and sizes. But at this moment, Henry Clark was completely stumped, because he had never grown vegetables before and couldn’t recognize what kind of vegetable seeds these were. Still, Henry Clark pretended to know what he was doing, picking up each type of seed and sniffing it under his nose, but he still couldn’t figure them out.

“What bad luck, how come there aren’t any chili seeds? Am I never going to eat chili again in this life?” After putting the vegetable seeds away, Henry Clark let out a sigh. Although he didn’t recognize the seeds in the bag, he was certain of one thing: there definitely weren’t any chili seeds inside. After all, for someone who can’t live without spicy food, chili seeds were something he would absolutely recognize.

A microscope; some clothes and miscellaneous daily necessities; two ears of corn and a piece of sweet potato; and finally, some unknown vegetable seeds—these were all the things he had brought with him. No, there was one more thing: the knowledge and experience he brought from the future. That was his greatest asset for surviving in the Northern Song Dynasty.

Thinking of this, Henry Clark put all these things back in their place on the bed, then sat down and seriously recalled the knowledge he had learned in his previous life. TVs, computers, cars, air conditioners, refrigerators—all these technological products were made using knowledge from the future. But unfortunately, Henry Clark’s brain wasn’t a computer; he had only learned how to use these things, not how to make them. As for how they were manufactured? Henry Clark thought hard, but the most useful thing he could remember was that these products were assembled in various factories, and then he would go to the electronics store to buy them.

“Damn it, if I’d known, I should have studied mechanical and electrical engineering. At least it would be useful after time-traveling.” Henry Clark muttered to himself in frustration. He was a bit embarrassed to mention his college major, because he had studied painting, and during his four years at university, he had basically skipped classes—either sleeping in the dorm or accompanying his girlfriend from the medical school to her classes. For exams, he would cram for a couple of days beforehand or just have someone else take the test for him. In the end, he barely managed to get a diploma.

Because of this, Henry Clark had only learned the basics of sketching in painting, and had also taught himself some comic drawing, since that was useful for picking up girls. On the other hand, by accompanying his girlfriend to her classes, he had picked up quite a bit of medical knowledge, so he was pretty good at treating minor illnesses like headaches and colds. But that was only when there was plenty of Chinese and Western medicine available. Now, having traveled to the Northern Song, he couldn’t even buy “Ganmaoling” (cold medicine), let alone save anyone. As for Chinese medicine, Henry Clark only knew about Banlangen and honeysuckle; he was clueless about anything else.

His college major was useless, and his ability to treat illnesses was mostly wasted due to lack of medicine. This made Henry Clark sigh in frustration. Luckily, he had transmigrated into the son of the emperor. No matter what happened in the future, at least he didn’t have to worry about food. Otherwise, if he had become a poor man, he’d probably have starved to death on the street by now.

Obviously, Henry Clark was being far too optimistic about his life. He was still recovering from illness, and all three meals a day were delivered to his bedroom. Today’s breakfast was the same as the previous days: a bowl of millet porridge and a plate of greens with tofu, not a trace of oil or fat. The imperial physician had already instructed that his body was not suited for greasy or meaty foods, so for the past few days, all three meals had been greens and tofu with thin porridge. At most, there was an extra steamed bun at lunch. On top of that, he wasn’t allowed to be near women. Simply put, Henry Clark was basically living the life of a monk—of course, not like those fake monks in modern times who drink, eat meat, and get married.

Henry Clark picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of tofu, and tossed it into his mouth. After chewing twice, he almost spat it out. This wasn’t a stir-fried dish at all, but just greens and tofu boiled together with water, maybe with a bit of salt and nothing else. As for the taste, there was nothing to say—since graduating from school, this was the first time Henry Clark had eaten something so unappetizing.

Henry Clark had also gone through some hard times as a child. Back then, his biggest dream was to eat meat every day. Once he could afford it, he ate meat at every meal, even when he was volunteering as a teacher in rural areas. Now, faced with this plate of greens and boiled tofu, he simply couldn’t eat it, so he threw his chopsticks aside and just finished the bowl of millet porridge. To be fair, while the dish was terrible, the porridge was actually cooked quite well—fragrant and sticky, definitely made from new rice.

After breakfast, Henry Clark continued lying on the bed, lost in thought. As an art student who studied painting, he had pretty much given up on any ideas of becoming a king or overlord after time-traveling. Besides, that didn’t suit his personality anyway. For Henry Clark, the proper thing to do was to use his status as a prince to live an easy life, eat and drink as he pleased, and then take a few beauties into his manor to keep him company.