I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 812: Divine Assistance from the Old primitive man
“Tell them that the roads cannot be completed during winter, but our tribe still has work they can do.
They can go to Copper Mountain to mine ore. The treatment will be the same as now—we provide meals, they dig the ore, and once a certain amount is mined, they can exchange it with our tribe for a certain amount of food, salt, or pottery, just like with road construction.”
Han Cheng said this to Mao with a smile.
Regarding the future of the Wind Tribe and the neighboring Wind Tribe, Han Cheng had already made plans.
The best outcome would be gradual assimilation.
If immediate assimilation weren’t possible, he would find ways to extend the time these people stayed in contact with his tribe, continuing the assimilation process. With persistence, there would eventually come a day when they were fully absorbed.
Moreover, during assimilation, his own tribe would not suffer losses.
For example, the plan he just told Mao about.
He had already thought of this strategy when he first considered the two tribes that had collided with his own. Now was the perfect time to use it.
It allowed the people to remain in their tribe, work, and gradually assimilate, all while accounting for their lingering attachment to their old tribes.
“Once they reach the Copper Mountain residential area, tell Third Senior Brother that when they begin mining, we should build some dome-shaped houses for them to live in.”
Han Cheng, after some thought, further instructed Mao.
He gave this instruction to create artificial differences in the Copper Mountain residential area.
Dome-shaped semi-subterranean houses without windows, combined with their half-buried design, were naturally less comfortable than the fully above-ground houses of the Green Sparrow Tribe.
Han Cheng planned to use this discomfort strategically, making the Wind Tribe and the neighboring wind tribe people develop a sense of yearning.
If the living standards of these “workers” were immediately raised to match those of the citizens of the Green Sparrow Tribe, assimilating them entirely would be difficult.
The reasoning was simple: if, as workers, they already enjoyed the same treatment as citizens, why would they want to become full Green Sparrow Tribe members? Continuing as workers would suffice.
Currently, these people live in semi-subterranean houses far from the main tribe, and they have no thoughts about these dwellings. But when they moved to Copper Mountain and saw Green Sparrow-style houses in comparison, they would gradually develop different ideas.
Without comparison, there is no incentive. Yet, beyond merely highlighting discomfort, comparison could also drive ambition and dissatisfaction with the status quo.
People tend to strive upward. When they see better things exist and know they can attain them through effort, most will work hard to achieve them.
Not only houses, but tools and food must differ slightly as well, emphasizing the advantages of joining the Green Sparrow Tribe and becoming a citizen…
After carefully considering this, Han Cheng gave Mao further instructions on other details to keep in mind.
Thus, the next day, the returning trade team set out again toward the Copper Mountain residential area.
“The Green Sparrow flag! The Green Sparrow flag!”
The people from the two tribes repairing the road cheered once more.
Seeing the Green Sparrow flag fluttering amid the falling leaves, and Mao’s beaming face beneath it, the old primitive man’s worries were greatly relieved.
The speed and joy of their return likely meant that the wise Divine Child had come up with a solution to the current dilemma!
Led by the old primitive man, the people hurried eagerly toward Mao and the team.
“The Divine Child has come up with a solution!”
Before the old primitive man arrived, Mao shouted with a smile.
Upon hearing this, the crowd’s previously held anxieties immediately relaxed.
“Mao, tell us what the Divine Child’s solution is!”
Once the two groups gathered, someone asked impatiently, while the rest eagerly watched, waiting for Mao to share the wise Divine Child’s plan.
“The Divine Child said we can mine during winter…”
Mao, not teasing them, smiled and explained.
When Mao finished detailing Han Cheng’s plan, cheers of excitement and joy erupted—more fervent than when Mao had previously returned with sheep and candy.
The excitement continued until Mao, Shang, and the trade team departed for Copper Mountain.
The Divine Child is truly so wise! So kind!
To ensure that they learned the solution quickly and could rest easy, the Divine Child had sent Mao immediately upon his return.
Night fell. Lying in a dome-shaped semi-subterranean house, the old primitive man of the Wind Tribe was filled with excitement and respect for the Divine Child.
Their admiration stemmed not only from the Divine Child’s benevolence but also from their belief that the Divine Child had made significant sacrifices to aid them.
“Because we wanted to stay, the Divine Child devised this method. Although it is excellent, the Divine Child will sacrifice many valuable things—salt, pottery, food—to solve our difficulties. Apart from the Divine Child and this kind-hearted tribe, no one else would do this! We must remember this!”
With a mix of Mandarin and gestures, the excited old primitive man conveyed this message to his tribe and the neighboring Wind Tribe.
Previously, most people only felt the Divine Child’s superficial care. Now, guided by the old primitive man’s emotional extension, everyone understood the depth of the Divine Child’s concern and kindness.
Indeed, aside from the Divine Child, who else cared for them so?
Hearing this, some wept in the dark, while minors sobbed aloud.
Crying is contagious, and soon, the temporary worker huts were filled with the sounds of tears. To outsiders, it might have seemed a deeply tragic event.
The cries gradually subsided. The old primitive man wiped his eyes, now smiling.
Closing his eyes, he fell asleep peacefully, a soft snore escaping, yet a gentle smile remained.
“Waa~ Waa~”
“Ah~!”
A baby cried loudly in the dark room, followed by a tired sigh.
Amid the crying, small rustling sounds arose. Soon, a faint red glow appeared as a small flame was lit.
Han Cheng used a fire striker to light an oil lamp, dispelling the darkness.
Their little daughter cried loudly, fists clenched, occasionally waving them.
Bai Xue, startled awake, gently picked up the baby.
The saying “Children have long ears” rang true. Bai Xue, usually sleepy, became alert after giving birth.
With Han Cheng still slightly drowsy, they cleaned the baby, changed her diaper, and laid her on the kang. Using soothing hums and gentle pats, she quieted down.
After a while, Xiao Xing’er’s cries subsided, and she fell asleep.
Han Cheng peeked, seeing his daughter asleep, blew out the lamp, and quietly lay down.
Managing a child was not easy; being a parent was truly challenging.
Since Xiao Xing’er’s birth, Han Cheng hadn’t slept well, reflecting on the difficulty of parenthood.
Little did he know that at the Wind Tribe and neighboring Wind Tribe, events triggered by the old primitive man’s divine assistance would bring immense joy.
The next day, after morning routines, Han Cheng took a piece of paper to Heiwa.
Heiwa was still working with clay.
People who do something long enough develop a sort of occupational habit. Heiwa, for instance, felt uncomfortable without touching clay.
Yet this passion allowed him to craft excellent pottery and molds.
“Divine Child.”
Seeing Han Cheng, Heiwa smiled and greeted him. Noticing the paper in Han Cheng’s hand, he immediately set aside his clay, not even washing his hands, and excitedly approached, eyes fixed on the paper.
Han Cheng laughed: “Stop staring. This is a blueprint for a new item to be cast.”
He unfolded the paper for Heiwa to see.
Heiwa chuckled, still staring, full of excitement. Like Lame, he always sought to create new things. Han Cheng, the most creative in the tribe, often produced ideas that the others hadn’t imagined, giving them new work.
On the paper were three circular objects: one lying flat, one standing upright, and one showing the back.
All three depicted the same item: a bronze gong.
As the weather grew colder, with autumn deepening and winter approaching, Han Cheng began preparing for the Green Sparrow Tribe’s first Winter Sports Festival.
The bronze gong was one item that needed preparation.
A simple drum wasn’t enough; it couldn’t convey the festival’s grandeur.
Hence, Han Cheng decided on the gong, a counterpart to the drum.
The sound of gongs and drums announces festive events.
Beyond the sports festival, the gong could also be used for tribal defense.
As the outer walls expanded, the tribe’s territory grew. Wooden clappers weren’t sufficient anymore—they could never match the gong’s volume.
Later, the gongs could also be used in the army. Beating drums to advance, ringing gongs to retreat—simple, clear commands.
With the blueprint open, Heiwa’s eyes glued to it, he ran to wash his hands before carefully studying the design, fully immersed.
After some time, Heiwa began molding clay to make the gong’s mold.
Seeing Heiwa deep in thought, Han Cheng quietly left the pottery workshop. His task was complete; the rest was Heiwa’s work.
Han Cheng, meanwhile, fetched a small copper saw and went to the bamboo grove.
He searched for suitable bamboo, neatly cutting it from the root.
This wouldn’t have been difficult, except for two pandas occasionally hugging his legs, creating chaos.
After a while, and losing three bamboo stalks to the pandas, Han Cheng finally escaped with one thick enough bamboo stalk.
Back in the courtyard, he cut a 30-cm section, cleared the internodes, smoothed it, and marked several points on the exterior for drilling.
He attempted to use a hand-cranked drill, but the bamboo’s texture caused splintering around the hole.
Han Cheng wanted smooth holes, like those in wood.
After several failed attempts, he gave up on the drill.
Instead, he heated a suitable copper rod in the fire, pressed and rotated it against the bamboo. Smoke rose, black residue appeared, and the rod sank into the bamboo.
After repeating this process three times, the bamboo was pierced, leaving smooth holes.
Han Cheng repeated this with two more sections.
“Divine Child, what’s this?”
The shaman had come over, watching intently, and asked if all the holes were completed.
“It’s a flute, a bamboo flute. It can produce beautiful sounds.”
Han Cheng cleaned the soot with a scrap cloth and explained.
“Beautiful sounds? Better than my sister on the boat?”
Bai Xue, holding Xiao Xing’er, asked curiously.
Han Cheng twitched—she always compared things to her sister on the boat.
“I’ll play it and you’ll know.”
He moistened a thin bamboo membrane and placed it on the second hole, completing the flute.
Hands positioned over the holes, he blew into the first.
Han Cheng was an amateur; he had once learned some flute pieces, but never mastered them before being transported here.
He tried several times before producing intermittent notes.
Shaman’s eyes lit up—just a bamboo tube with holes could make such beautiful music!
Bai Xue tilted her head, still preferring “Sister on the Boat.”
Night fell, moonlight filtering in. Bamboo shadows swayed as Han Cheng played “Farewell” on the flute.
The sound filled the courtyard.
Yuan, clinging to Shaman, became still, imagining a quiet river with drifting red leaves.
Bai Xue gazed at Han Cheng’s back, eyes sparkling.
Han Cheng, feeling proud, thought: I said I would become a world-class flutist. Now, even with a poor bamboo flute, I’ve reached the top!
A breeze lifted his clothes, adding to his flair.
His moment was short-lived, however, as Xiao Xing’er began crying loudly.
The power of a crying child outweighed even the most boisterous musical instruments.