Manual of Space-Time Interference

According to his own visual estimation, the location of Dialect's camp should be more than 300 meters away from the ground.

And the 150,000-year-old geological changes make the dialects without precise positioning tools not knowing whether they will appear on the ground when they return to modern times, or...

An altitude of more than 300 meters?

This is a very serious question, which made him struggle for a long time at night.

…

Early in the morning, as usual, I woke up to the cry of a pterosaur. The cry of "Acridine! Acridine!" seems to have become an alarm clock for dialects...

As usual, Dialect pulled a cookie and fed it to the pterosaur before looking up at the bright sun.

In fact, he also considered bringing the pterosaur back to modern times, but the death of the mouse made him break this idea.

Besides, even if the pterosaur returns alive, is the modern age really its home?

I don’t know the dialect, and I don’t want to know it.

He always knew that he was just a passer-by. If he stayed in the Jurassic all his life, perhaps in the end, suicide would be the best outcome.

This is not appalling or pessimistic,

Why can Robinson live on a desert island for 28 years, because there are dogs, savages, and the hope of returning to society...

Shaking his head, Dialect emptied these boring thoughts and looked around.

The little pterosaur had already returned to the wooden house, huddled inside, and seemed to like this furrowed nest very much.

Dialect looked at it and smiled, then strode forward to the way down the mountain.

Although the road was a bit dry, it still looked damp. When I stepped on it lightly, a shoe print appeared.

Between the spirit of scientific research and Xiaoming, Dialect still chose his own Xiaoming. He didn't want to try the feeling of free fall at a height of 300 meters.

With a sigh, the dialect walked back again. It's still early, you just need to walk to the ground before dusk, so there's no need to worry.

Back at the tent, he started to pack up what he needed to take away, but it wasn't too much.

It's good to bring a set of summer clothes, so as not to wear a combat uniform when you go back, it will look a little high-profile.

The rifle should be brought back, but it needs to be disassembled into parts, the pistol should just be attached to the waist, and the bullet should have two clips.

The tablet must be brought. At that time, you can also locate it, and you can also talk to the people at Guoan, and you can take it out to play when you are bored.

All the sabers are stuffed into the backpack, and I also need to bring a little military ration and two bottles of water...

Looking at the small backpack that couldn't hold anything, Dialect thought about it and put the camera aside.

almost…

Dialect thought, walked out of the tent, came to the little pterosaur's hut, put something on the ground, and sat on it.

"I'm leaving!" said the dialect, "you won't be able to see me in the future!"

The little pterosaur blinked and tilted his head, showing curiosity and doubt.

"Forget it, you don't understand..." Fang Yan sighed, sat down quietly, and looked into the distance.

Pterodactyl, perhaps his only friend in this era, even though he couldn't understand what it said, it couldn't understand what it said...

However, the world is so wonderful, isn't it?

…

"Leave a souvenir!"

After a long time, Dialect turned his head to look at the pterosaur and said, turned back to the tent, took off a piece of the metal ammo box, and then took a pen from the side.

"Dialect - pterosaur, a testimony of friendship, 150,000 years ago, the dialect is left."

A line of words was engraved crookedly on the metal shell by the dialect. The pterosaur looked at it, stroked his mouth with his fleshy wings, opened his eyes, and seemed to be curious about what the dialect was doing.

"All right!"

Dialect was busy for a while, and painted all the ink of the pen on the scratches. The characters that were not clear at first became clearly visible.

"The writing is ugly, don't care too much!" Dialect laughed, looking at the bewildered pterosaur, he placed the metal sign above the wooden house, turned back and took a piece of rope out.

Using a military dagger to make a hole in the metal shell, the dialect was threaded with rope, and then tied to the wooden house.

"You're done!" Dialect clapped his hands, put the military dagger back, looked at his watch, and it was noon.

After thinking for a while, Dialect returned to the tent, took a pack of compressed biscuits, put on the camera, and returned to the front of the wooden house.

"Little guy, you will call the door every morning, but there is nothing to eat!" Dialect hung the camera in front of him, opened the package of cookies, and gave a piece to the pterosaur.

"Yaya!"

The pterosaur cried, stretched out his mouth to hold the biscuit, swallowed it, and looked up at Dialect again.

"Yaya!"

Dialect couldn't stand his little eyes a little bit, so he broke off another piece of the biscuit and said, "Okay, okay, I'll give you another piece!"

The pterosaur stretched out its slender mouth again, held it with its tiny teeth, raised its head slightly, swallowed it, and looked at the dialect again.

"No more!" Dialect shoved the biscuit into his mouth, and muttered with his hands spread out.

"Acridine! Acridine!" The little pterosaur continued to cry, seeming to be a little complaining.

"It's not that I won't give it to you, you must know, I'm here for your own good!" Fang Yan chewed the biscuits in his mouth, swallowed them in one gulp, and quickly took two sips of water.

He didn't plan to leave any compressed biscuits for the pterosaurs. Compressing the biscuits focused on the word "compression". If he ate too much, it would be troublesome for the pterosaurs.

Just like humans, animals also suffer from diarrhea, and their digestive capacity is limited. Just like raising cats and dogs, eating too much is not good.

"Yaya!"

"Don't move!" Dialect raised his camera.

The little pterosaur in the camera opened his mouth slightly, looked at Dialect, and showed doubtful eyes.

"Crack!"

A soft sound came, and the time on the photo was forever fixed at this moment...

…

"Okay, it's almost time." Fang Yan looked at his watch and sighed, stood up, looked at the wooden house, and turned around silently.

The sun has reached the peak of its radiance. The originally warm sunshine has brought a hint of warmth, and the sound of insects has become more prosperous...

Back in the tent, Dialect took off the memory card in the camera, put it in a plastic bag, packed it and put it in the backpack.

Looking around, he focused on a few plastic bags on the ground, which were gifts from the little pterosaur yesterday.

Dialect smiled, took off the backpack, put the scarabs and mantises still alive, put on the backpack again, put on the helmet, and walked out.

Before walking down the mountain, Fang Yan looked back at the wooden house he built with his own hands, waved his hand, and sighed softly,

"Goodbye, little guy..."