I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 216 – Feel like reciting a poem
Han Cheng looked at the unearthed, partially burnt wooden sticks with a hint of disappointment.
This method, indeed, couldn’t produce charcoal.
The sticks that were dug out looked similar to those that were burning and suddenly extinguished by water — both had a layer of blackened charcoal on the outside, but the inside remained unburnt wood.
This substance was far from the charcoal Han Cheng had seen in his future life. It couldn’t even be called charcoal.
Although he had felt skeptical about this method before uncovering it, there was still some expectation. Now, with the truth revealed, a sense of disappointment was inevitable.
Shaman, who was watching from the side, also felt disappointed. He had hoped overnight that these pieces of firewood buried by the Divine Child with such solemnity would undergo some change, preferably growing more firewood. Seeing the results now was uncomfortable for him, too.
He felt that the grand road he had envisioned for the tribe had moved further away. There were signs of it being completely blocked by thorns…
Han Cheng felt a bit troubled. He only had a partial understanding of charcoal production, and this first attempt had failed. He didn’t have a good solution at the moment.
Seeing the people around him looking at him in confusion, he instructed them to continue with the tasks from the previous day.
Tie Tou and others went to harvest thatch while Lame cut wood pieces and burned them in the fire pit before polishing them.
Han Cheng squatted by the messy fire pit, picked up a charred piece of wood, and studied it carefully, a pensive look in his eyes.
In this situation, Han Cheng suddenly felt like reciting a poem, the famous “Selling Firewood” written by Bai Juyi.
Not to lament the hardships of making charcoal, sympathize with the old man’s difficulties, or express indignation at the disturbances of the court, but because it reminded him of some experiences of the firewood seller in the poem.
“The firewood seller chops wood and burns charcoal in the southern mountains. His face is covered in dust, and his fingers are black from the smoke…”
These opening lines vividly depict the hardships of the firewood seller, but Han Cheng saw something else through them.
His method of making charcoal truly wouldn’t work.
From the experiences of the firewood seller, he was likely a solitary old man, frail and weak. If he had used the method Han Cheng had employed, even just covering the burning firewood with sand would have been difficult to achieve.
Because if the covering were too slow, the branches would all be burnt by the fire. Where would the charcoal come from, then?
Han Cheng didn’t know what others read from “Selling Firewood,” but at this moment, he saw that his method wouldn’t work, although he couldn’t explain the reason clearly.
Shaman stayed with Han Cheng for a while before returning to the tribe. After hesitating, he finally came to the edge of the rabbit enclosure and began to skin rabbits as usual.
However, compared to before, he seemed distracted while skinning the rabbits today.
Han Cheng squatted there, lost in thought for a long time. When he stood up, his legs felt numb. He stayed in place for a while before gradually shaking off the feeling and moving on from this sour moment.
Han Cheng called for Hei Wa, and together, they carried the firewood towards the earthen kiln near the river.
As the weather grew colder, Hei Wa hadn’t made any pottery clay for several days.
Hei Wa and Han Cheng placed the firewood they were carrying next to the earthen kiln. He couldn’t help but feel puzzled. The last batch of pottery had been fired a few days ago, so what was the Divine Child doing bringing firewood to the kiln now?
Could it be for making charcoal?
Hei Wa wasn’t a foolish person. Considering what the Divine Child had done before, he quickly guessed Han Cheng’s intentions.
But his confusion only deepened.
He was one of the few in the tribe who had dealt extensively with the kiln. It had excellent ventilation, and once the wood was placed inside and lit, it would burn fiercely.
With the Divine Child bringing so much firewood, wouldn’t it all burn up once placed inside the kiln? Where would the charcoal the Divine Child spoke of be left?
Han Cheng also pondered this matter but didn’t have many clues. He could only experiment bit by bit and seek experience from each failure.
With Hei Wa’s help, the kiln, originally used for firing pottery, was filled with firewood inside and underneath. The top of the kiln was covered with two large clay tiles.
After Han Cheng nodded slightly in confirmation, Hei Wa didn’t hesitate. He first lit the hay and then the dry branches. Before long, the fire at the hearth of the kiln below was roaring.
Soon, the firewood placed inside the kiln also caught fire.
With so much firewood burning together, the flames were intense. Even though the top of the kiln was covered with clay tiles, the scorching flames spewed out from the surrounding gaps, leaping high into the air.
Watching this, Hei Wa suddenly remembered the Divine Child’s instructions to cover the burning firewood with sand yesterday, feeling slightly anxious.
After all, the kiln was of great use, and he had put much effort into building it. It would be a pity if it were buried like this.
Looking around, he realized that only the Divine Child and he were there, and they hadn’t brought a shovel. They wouldn’t be burying the kiln. This reassured him, a lover of firing kilns.
But then he realized something was wrong. If they didn’t use sand to cover it, wouldn’t the firewood inside the kiln burn up completely?
Han Cheng had already considered this. The burning of flames required oxygen — this was the most basic common sense.
After observing the fire for a while, he instructed Hei Wa to move some discarded large pottery shards and stones to the edge of the kiln.
Then, after a while, he asked Hei Wa to use these items to gradually block the fire hole at the bottom of the kiln.
As the fire hole narrowed, the air entering it gradually decreased, and the flames became much smaller.
However, the flames inside the kiln still didn’t completely extinguish, likely due to the gaps at the fire hole below. After all, Hei Wa used pottery shards to block it, so it was impossible not to leave some gaps.
Han Cheng now looked conflicted. He feared the firewood inside would turn to ashes if he didn’t completely seal the fire hole. But if he did seal it completely, he worried that the firewood would end up like the half-burnt pieces he had dug out today, which was also unacceptable.
After much deliberation, he let this burn continue and see what happened. If it didn’t work, he would seal the fire hole with clay next time.