I am a Primitive Man 170

I am a Primitive Man

Chapter 170 – The Neglected Millet

The people of the Green Tribe, under the command of their leader, took turns carrying the large, blackened pot with caution and speed. It wasn’t until they could see the peculiar “mountain wall” of the Green Tribe that the leader ordered them to set the pot down. He reached out his already blackened hands and began to feel the pot.

After a while, unable to contain his joy, he smiled happily toward the Green Tribe.

For the leader of the Green Tribe, being able to exchange these three precious pottery items, especially the large pot, made him extremely proud. The rest of the Green Tribe members were equally ecstatic, expressing their admiration for their leader’s wisdom in their own unique way.

Amid their jubilation, some would playfully smear the black ash from the pot onto their companions, adding to the joy. After venting their suppressed happiness, the strengthened Green Tribe members eagerly returned their valuable items to their tribe. They looked forward to seeing the joyous reactions of those who had stayed behind to pick fruits near the tribe.

As the Green Tribe people left, sure that they wouldn’t hear any more commotion from the other tribe, a certain ecstatic Divine Child who had held back for a long time finally couldn’t contain himself and burst into hearty laughter, disregarding his image.

“This! Good stuff; it can keep us full! No more starvation!”

After a burst of wild laughter, Han Cheng announced the big good news to the curious onlookers. He expected them to be as overjoyed as he was upon hearing this news, but their reaction was not as enthusiastic as he had imagined.

Upon further thought, he understood that since he introduced the fish cages, the people of the Green Sparrow Tribe had already lived a life without worries about food.

Now, informing them that with this new item, there would be no more hunger wouldn’t evoke such a strong reaction.

Wiping his nose, Han Cheng realized that perhaps living too well and being too forward-thinking might not be such a good thing.

Acknowledging the situation, Han Cheng waved his hand, instructing everyone to continue their tasks. He stared blankly at the nearly two-dan-long ears of millet in his hands, grinning foolishly. In his imagination, he lay in a millet field during the millet’s golden ripening season, smelling the unique fragrance of millet, looking through the gaps between the ears of millet into the distant, azure sky.

The shaman came over, squatted beside Han Cheng, who was laughing foolishly, picked up an ear of millet from the pile, held it in front of his eyes, and observed it back and forth. He wanted to see if there was anything special about it.

He wanted to know what kind of thing made the Divine Child so happy and obsessed. The Divine Child’s announcement that with this thing, the Green Sparrow Tribe would never starve again made him quite concerned.

After observing for a while, the shaman picked some grass-seed-like things from the top and put them in his palm. Then, he put them in his mouth, chewing slowly. The taste was not good; compared to other grass seeds, it was just a bit less bitter or weird.

Chewing in his mouth, his teeth felt similar to other food like fish soup, meat soup, and other fruits and vegetables, but it was not as good.

Han Cheng snapped out of his golden reverie, and seeing the shaman appreciating the millet while chewing, he smiled. Having some in his old age was indeed a treasure.

Taking the ear of the millet from the shaman’s hand, he weighed it in his hand, feeling the weight significantly less than the millet from later times. Then, he smiled as he told the shaman the name of this thing.

He also told the shaman that this wasn’t meant to be eaten as is; it needed some processing to become delicious.

Hearing what Han Cheng said, the shaman’s eyes couldn’t help but light up. Because he suddenly remembered the originally terrible stone, which, after the hands of the Divine Child, became the delicious salt. Now, this unpalatable millet, after the hands of the shaman…

The shaman became extremely expectant.

As an elder in the tribe, he was highly interested in every new edible item.

Han Cheng carried a heavy bundle of millet ears and walked toward the cave.

He found an empty pottery basin, picked up an ear of millet, and began to separate the grains with his hands.

After watching Han Cheng for a while, the shaman joined in and began doing the same.

After separating half a basin of millet, Han Cheng cleaned the pit on the big stone used by the Green Sparrow Tribe to pound ‘pa pa.’ Then, he put some millet in it, found a suitable wooden stick of appropriate length and thickness, held it in his hand, and placed the relatively round and larger end against the millet-filled pit. He swung it up and down, pounding the millet.

Since these guys found this thing unappetizing, he decided to process it well, cook it properly, and make these primitive people who had not seen much of the world crave it. He wondered if they would still dare to underestimate the grain revered as the king of the five grains!

Feeling neglected and wanting to give Millet a good name, Han Cheng thought to himself as he wielded the wooden stickup and down.

Han Cheng wasn’t worried about saving seeds. Millet is harvested in autumn, and now there is still half an autumn, a winter, and half a spring before planting millet. It adds up to about half a year, and there’s no hurry to plant.

Moreover, from the Green Tribe leader, he learned that there is still a lot of millet there. Judging by the leader’s nature of taking advantage of others, after he said that he could exchange animal skins and millet for pottery, he would come again with more millet.

Eating some now wouldn’t hurt.

It’s been almost two years, and he has been eating grilled meat or meat soup and vegetables all day. He hasn’t tasted a bite of the main grain of later generations. Han Cheng is eager to eat some after seeing millet.

Whether it’s millet or rice, it’s not easy to shell. Otherwise, in ancient times, pounding rice wouldn’t be used as punishment.

Of course, what is said here about not being easy refers to the time before various machines appeared.

Han Cheng is now experiencing this difficulty. Pounding a millet pit made sweat appear on his forehead, and his hands were numb and sore from the impact.

However, he didn’t feel it was too difficult when he saw the yellowish millet mixed with millet husks inside the pit.

He put down the stick, grabbed a handful from the pit, and blew it clean with his mouth.

The empty millet husks flew away, leaving half a handful of golden yellow millet in his hand.