Chapter 1: Back to 1908

  "Didn't think I was still alive..." Looking at the unfamiliar ceiling, Yan Guang smiled bitterly.

  Yan Guang didn't know whether his luck was good or bad. In his past life, he had the misfortune of drowning to death, and when he was reborn into his current body, he almost drowned again.

  But I guess the owner of this body wasn't very lucky either, sitting on a ship to America and still managing to sink due to a storm. If it weren't for that, I probably wouldn't have had the chance to reincarnate into his body either. At the time, I was alone, hugging a wooden board and drifting at sea, thinking I was going to be reborn again.

  Just as Yan Guang was shaking his head and smiling wryly on his sickbed, a knock came from outside the hospital room door.

  "Please come in." A white doctor and nurse walked in from outside, speaking broken English.

  The doctor examined and nodded. "Your body has no problems now, congratulations."

  Yan Guang supported himself with his body and smiled bitterly. "Yes, but my wallet has shrunk by half."

  The doctor's face revealed a hint of a smile. "You should thank God for his mercy, Yan, that among all those people on the boat, only you were sent back to the world of the living."

  "That's because heaven doesn't accept yellow people." Yan Guang said with a half-joking tone.

  Perhaps we should thank God, although I don't know what the original owner of this body was doing in the United States, at least he had all his documents on him, so after being rescued, Yan Guang was not treated as a stowaway but was sent to the hospital for treatment.

  After completing the discharge procedures, wearing the clothes that the doctor had helped to buy from outside, Yan Guang walked out of the hospital neatly dressed.

  All he has with him now are his ID and a wallet that's almost empty, and Yan Guang, who is troubled by the problem of eating, doesn't even have the mood to look at the scenery around him that he used to see only in nostalgic movies.

  The empty wallet brought a deep sense of crisis to Yan Guang, because he had no idea what the original owner of his body was doing here, let alone how he would make a living in America. All he knew was that if he didn't think of something, the things in his wallet wouldn't be able to support him for much longer.

  What else could he do in this world? His teachers back in his previous life's school certainly didn't teach him how to survive in early 20th century America.

  That's right, in the early 20th century America, to be exact, January 1908, these were all he had heard from doctors and nurses at the hospital, and his current location was the first choice for Chinese immigrants, San Francisco, also known as the Old Gold Mountain.

  A shabby ID card, poor English and a relatively strong body. If he hadn't thought of a way out before his wallet was completely empty, Yan Guang could only consider whether to go to Chinatown to beg for food or become a laborer. However, before that, Yan Guang decided to think of a solution first.

  "Let's at least find a place to stay and then eat something." Considering the issue of money, Yan Guang chose a slightly small but decent-looking inn.

  Although it was in San Francisco, where there are the most Chinese Americans, when Yan Guang, a yellow-skinned person, walked in and stood at the front desk, the white boss still stared for a moment, as he had never seen such a tall yellow-skinned person before.

  "Give me a single room, yeah, cheaper..." Thought of his wallet, Yan Guang bitterly smiled.

  "Understood!" The boss nodded and handed him a key after Yan Guang finished filling out the registration form. "Room 302, don't worry, our rates aren't very expensive, but the service is definitely good." As he said this, the manager also revealed a smile that men would understand. "Do you need any special nighttime services?" It seemed that he didn't look down on Yan Guang just because he was Asian.

  He felt a little excited, but after thinking about the wallet, Yan Guang shook his head. "No need..." He grabbed the key and thanked him before heading towards the stairs.

  ……

  "What should I do next..." Lying on the bed again, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling, Yan Guang didn't know what he could do.

  "Labourer?" Thinking about it, with a height of over 1.8 meters, if I were to become a labourer, maybe I could earn some extra money...

  In fact, Yan Guang could only think of one way out for himself, which was to be a laborer. Although he had learned many things in his past life, he had already forgotten them after so many years and returned them to his teachers. Moreover, in this world, high education may not be as useful as having a practical skill.

  "Sigh..." At this moment, Yan Guang felt that if he had a cigarette by his side, it would be great, even though he didn't smoke...

  "Want to go take a look at Chinatown? They're all Chinese, maybe we can help each other out. But I don't know traditional characters... although I can recognize them, what if I accidentally write in simplified characters and those old Chinese people won't tear me apart? Thinking about the legend of how conservative and terrifying overseas Chinese are, what if they see me writing in simplified characters..."

  Although Simplified Chinese characters were created during the Republican era, they are still used in the late Qing dynasty, and that Republican era is at least twenty years later...

  "Never mind, let's take it one step at a time. The money in hand can still be used for a while. If things really don't work out, I'll just have to look for some hard labor job..."

  In the following days, Yan Guang kept running around outside, hoping to find a suitable job, but it seemed that this year was not auspicious for him, and unexpectedly no place was willing to take him in.

  "Is it really heaven's will to destroy me?"

  Just as Yan Guang was sitting in the hotel lobby with his head hung low, the hotel owner, Jim, called out to him.

  "Yan, come over and give me a hand."

  After a few days of contact, Yan Guang and the white boss can't be said to be friends, but they are relatively familiar with each other. So when he heard that Jim was looking for him, he walked over.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Your compatriots," he said, "but they don't seem to speak English, so I was wondering if you could help me check them in." Jim nodded towards a Chinese couple standing beside the front desk.

  "I understand."

  Taking the registration form and pen from Jim, after exchanging a few words with the Chinese couple, he began to fill out the form, but while filling it out, Yan Guang always felt that the pen was not in his hand, so he said to Jim.

  "Jim, do you have a ballpoint pen?"

  I remember when I was in school, Yan Guang liked to use ballpoint pens the most. Because ballpoint pens are not like fountain pens that need to be filled with ink every day, and if used carelessly, they can cause all sorts of accidents. In elementary school, because teachers didn't allow us to use ballpoint pens, Yan Guang even thought that teachers were in cahoots with the pen factory...

  "Ballpoint pen? What's a ballpoint pen?" Jim asked curiously while drinking water on the side.

  The pen filling out the form stopped in mid-air. "Don't you know what a ballpoint pen is?" Yan Guang stared at Jim with wide eyes.

  Jim shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what high-end product you're talking about, but I've never heard of a ballpoint pen."

  "There aren't any ballpoint pens yet..." Unable to hold back the smile on his face, Jing Guang hastily filled out the form and rushed out of the hotel.

  When he ran to the main street, Yan Guang rushed towards a store. "If there is no ballpoint pen now, then can't I register it as a patent and sell it for money?"

  After learning from the store that there were only fountain pens and pencils, but indeed no ballpoint pens, Yan Guang returned to the hotel with a sly smile.

  "Thanks, Jim!" he patted Jim's shoulder heavily and ran back to his own room without saying why, leaving Jim staring blankly at him in the front hall.

  "That guy was down in the dumps just a few days ago, what's gotten into him today?" Shaking his head, Jim continued to serve the next couple.

  ……

  The next day, Yan Guang bought a bunch of things from outside and brought them back, making Jim think he was going to do an experiment in the room.

  "Jim, come and try this pen!" By the fourth day, Yan Guang walked in front of Jim with a metal cylindrical object.

  This metal pipe looks very crude and is about twenty centimeters long, with a width of about two pens, looking quite strange.

  "What is this thing?" Jim asked curiously after taking over the metal pipe.

  Yan Guang's face was full of smiles as he rubbed his hands together. "This is my new invention, you try it out and see if it works well."

  "The question is how to use it."

  "Just use it like a regular pen, try it out." He said, holding out a piece of paper in front of Jim.

  Hesitating for a moment, Jim still took the metal tube and drew several strokes on the paper.

  "...writing very smoothly..." After writing a number of letters in succession with the metal tube, Jim's face showed surprise.

  The biggest drawback of fountain pens is that they are prone to scratching paper and the nibs are very fragile, almost every day need to fill ink, which are exactly the strengths of ballpoint pens. Of course, now ballpoint pens still need to be filled with ink, and the earliest ballpoint pens in history also had the problem of oil leakage, but these problems have been solved.

  "Is this really your invention?" Jim felt he needed to reevaluate the Chinese man in front of him.

  "What do you think? I'm going to register the patent soon, and my living expenses will all depend on this pen!" Severe Guang clenched his fist in determination as he took back the ballpoint pen from Jim's hand.

  "It's really useful, now you don't have to worry about living expenses anymore." Jim naturally knew what Yang Guang had been worried about these past few days, so he was genuinely happy for him.

  "Yes, these days have really worried me to death." Thinking that just a few days ago he was still thinking about whether or not to go to Chinatown to beg, Yan Guang let out a deep sigh. In fact, in order to get this pen, there wasn't much money left in his wallet either. If he couldn't sell the pen quickly, this week he would have to go to Chinatown to beg...

  After leaving the hotel, Yan Guang spent two hours registering a patent for the ballpoint pen, of course, the registered name was called ballpoint pen. After that, Yan Guang spent several more hours inquiring about how many stationery companies there were in San Francisco and which ones had the strongest strength.

  As long as Yan Guang sells the patent for ballpoint pens, he can proceed with his next plan.