I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 887 – The Ancient Tool
After breakfast, feeling in a very good mood, the Great Divine Child Han Cheng strolled through the tribe and eventually came near the kitchen.
At this spot, they were now digging a well.
With the constant labor of the diggers, the well had already been excavated more than two meters, nearly three meters deep.
The freshly dug soil could no longer be scooped out with copper shovels; it now required someone to pull it out using ropes and “luó tóu” (a type of bucket or basket).
Han Cheng was not unfamiliar with well-digging, thanks mainly to a government initiative from his childhood that promoted well construction.
It seemed that each household was encouraged to dig a well, with a 100 yuan subsidy per well.
At that time, 100 yuan was not a small amount, especially for farming families with almost no other income besides cultivating land.
Naturally, many families in the village dug wells, including Han Cheng’s family.
He recalled that year, when the family was also busy cultivating shiitake mushrooms, his father still managed to dig their well.
The well-digging policy was genuinely excellent.
Before the policy, a village of several hundred people had only three wells.
Han Cheng remembered clearly that in the early morning, just as the roosters crowed and dawn barely broke, family members would get up, carry buckets, and go to the village wells to fetch water.
If one were late, the well would run dry.
On several occasions, when they got up too late, the well had no water. His father would then descend into the well with a ladle and bucket, scoop up two buckets of murky water mixed with sand, and later clarify it for cooking.
Water for the cattle was drawn from a large village pond.
Once every household had a well, the days of waking at the fifth watch to fight for water were over, and life became much easier.
As he grew older, Han Cheng asked his father why people had not dug wells at home before, but had relied on the three ancient wells to fetch water.
The answer was that people thought digging wells was extremely difficult, requiring deep excavation before water appeared.
But once they started digging, they realized it was much easier than they had imagined.
For example, the well at Han Cheng’s home yielded water after just over three meters.
“If we had known it was this easy, we would have dug wells even without the subsidy,” his father had said more than once.
Standing by the digging well, recalling these memories, Han Cheng inhaled sharply.
Well-digging seemed simple, but it could be complicated—especially when encountering layers of rock.
Filling it back in and choosing a new location wasted time; if not, the rock layers would have been truly troublesome.
Fortunately, back then, with ammonium nitrate fertilizer, sulfur, and charcoal, one could cook homemade explosives in an old iron pot to blast through rock layers.
Coupled with detonators and fuses obtained from stone factories, rocks could be blown away.
Of course, this was dangerous. Improper handling could easily cause accidents.
For instance, a neighbor’s family once failed to adequately cover the well during blasting. When the explosion occurred, the covering board of the ox cart was shattered, and flying debris damaged several tiles on Han Cheng’s house.
Han Cheng sniffed, recalling these dangers.
At the time, with ammonium nitrate and sulfur, homemade explosives could break rock layers in wells.
Without these materials, as in the current tribal conditions, encountering a rock layer while digging a well would be a nightmare.
Hence, Han Cheng felt anxious, constantly checking the well, hoping it would yield water soon without hitting rock.
Otherwise, given the tribe’s current capabilities, they would likely have to refill the deep well and try another location.
“Alright! Pull!”
After watching for a while, a sound came from the well.
The person at the top grabbed the rope and began pulling. The rope stretched tight.
Moments later, the luó tóu filled with soil reached the surface.
Those inside the well stood close to the walls to avoid being struck by falling soil or the basket.
The person above placed the soil-filled luó tóu at a safe distance, detached the hooked rope, hooked another empty basket, and lowered it down.
Afterward, they carried the soil away and spread it in a lower area of the yard, tamping it down with their feet.
Raising soil basket by basket was not easy. As the well deepened, hauling soil would become even harder.
Watching this, Han Cheng recalled a simple tool often paired with wells—the pulley system, or “lù gū”.
Han Cheng had seen pulleys before, but not often.
This was because after every household had a well, a more convenient water-drawing device called a “pressure well” had appeared.
Using lever principles, the pressure well allowed water to be drawn with one hand and little effort, faster than a simple bucket.
However, installing it required a raised well platform with a heavy cover to prevent dust from falling in and to protect children.
Thus, the traditional lù gū was quickly replaced.
Yet in this era, it remained invaluable. Without the ability to create a pressure well, the pulley was simple, practical, and cost-effective.
Creating a pressure well in the tribe was extremely difficult. It required iron smelting, high-quality coal and ore, building a furnace, and mastering casting and rubber technology—a long series of technical challenges.
Technology trees are not instantly unlocked; knowledge alone is useless without materials.
It was wiser to create tools immediately practical with existing conditions to improve productivity.
Han Cheng understood this principle, so after standing by the well, he returned to his room, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and began sketching a pulley.
The pulley’s structure was simple—a larger version of a four-wheeled cart key, with a long handle and a thick central cylinder.
The thick cylinder allowed more rope to be wound per rotation, pulling the bucket up faster.
With his improved drawing skills, Han Cheng quickly sketched it and brought it to Bo, a master craftsman.
Following Han Cheng’s instructions, Bo used meteoric iron to craft carpentry tools: saws and planes.
The carpenter workshop now had a complete set of meteoric iron tools.
Every day, just entering the workshop and seeing these tools energized the craftsmen.
When Han Cheng brought the drawing, Lame and the others were extremely excited—this meant a new project and more opportunities to use the meteoric iron tools.
Han Cheng handed the drawing to Lame, who scrutinized it while other carpenters gathered to watch.
“Understood?” Han Cheng asked after a while.
“Divine Child, rest assured, we can make it!” Lame said confidently, chest puffed out.
One’s demeanor can be cultivated, and Lame, now the tribe’s top craftsman, exuded confidence.
Han Cheng smiled. “Good. Make it as soon as possible and mount it on the well. But the wooden shaft must be sturdy—if it breaks while lifting water, it would be a disaster.”
In later generations, pulleys had iron shafts, resembling a diesel cart or tricycle handle, but the tribe only had wood. A strong wooden shaft would suffice, as each bucket only carried 40–50 jin.
Lame nodded, understanding, and began work with meteoric iron tools.
He selected a thick, solid branch, measured it, and marked the thinner end. Mao Er used a meteoric iron saw to cut it, while Lame handled the other tasks.
This copper wood was extremely dense; even with meteoric iron saws, cutting took considerable effort.
Han Cheng picked up the cut section—about 30 cm long. It was heavy and dense, with tightly packed rings, unlike the fast-growing poplar. This piece was 43 years old.
Han Cheng marveled and touched the rings, still warm from friction.
After cutting, Mao Er removed the bark and knots with an axe and smoothed it with a plane.
Time had passed, and Mao Er, once a tearful apprentice, had now grown into the tribe’s second-best carpenter after Lame.
Lame and Mao Er drilled holes in the shaft and surrounding cylinder, using meteoric iron for the dense wood and bronze for the lighter wood. Other carpenters prepared wooden pegs.
After drilling, they inserted the shaft, aligned the holes, and hammered in the wooden pegs flush with the cylinder, firmly binding the shaft.
Attaching an L-shaped handle completed the main pulley structure.
Han Cheng then instructed: “Make boards two cm thick, four cm wide, same length as the cylinder. After coating with tung oil, place a board every two cm, bind with strong rattan in three or five strands, and coat with tung oil again.”
This was to prevent the cylinder from cracking.
The carpenters quickly completed this task.
Meanwhile, another person prepared the pulley’s support frame—a simple X-shaped set of wooden sticks. The intersection height needed to be equal for stability.
Unlike paint, tung oil could be applied immediately.
The finished pulley was mounted above the kitchen well, and a strong hemp rope was tied and wound around it.
Attaching the soil-filled luó tóu to the rope and releasing it into the well, the pulley spun rapidly until the bucket reached the bottom.
“Alright! Pull!”
Soon, soil could be pulled up effortlessly.
The person operating the pulley’s handle flushed with excitement and exertion—not from thrill, but from fatigue.