I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 834 – Han Cheng: Shaman, You Are Still Young
The raft moved slowly across the water, propelled by oars.
Little Pea, riding on Han Cheng’s lap for the first time, bobbed his head from side to side, eyes wide with curiosity.
Although fascinated, he wasn’t afraid—his father was holding him securely.
A gentle lake breeze blew across the surface, carrying a refreshing coolness.
In the broader expanse of the lake, waterfowl flapped their wings and sometimes plunged straight down like arrows, creating splashes. As they rose again, fish often leapt with them, briefly suspended in midair.
Nearby, mallard ducks swam alongside the raft, showing visible astonishment at the monkeys moving through the water as well.
After a while, some ducks discovered a limitation of the swimming monkeys—they could only move on the water’s surface and couldn’t dive.
So one or two ducks began diving repeatedly, emerging elsewhere with fish tails occasionally visible in their beaks.
Having shown off their skill, these ducks flapped their wings excitedly, quacking loudly in triumph in front of the monkeys.
Third Senior Brother, sharing the raft with Han Cheng, quietly tied a thin rope to the tail of a feathered arrow, securing the other end to the raft’s railing. He nocked the arrow, drew the bow, and released it.
The duck quacked happily, flapped its wings, and let out a pained scream before struggling briefly in the water; then it went silent.
Amid the panicked flurry of the remaining ducks, the arrow-pierced duck was hauled onto the raft via the rope.
Soon after, it would be roasted for a meal.
This incident taught the Green Sparrow tribe a lesson: not only do those who stick out get struck first, but ducks showing off too close to a skilled archer risk becoming roasted as well.
The raft continued forward, with small pools forming on its deck from water seeping through the gaps. Occasionally, startled fish leapt, splashing back into the lake.
The experience of drifting across the vast lake thrilled everyone.
The only minor regret: the leaping fish never landed on the raft.
The raft circled the island’s east side to the north and stopped at the first docking point.
As they approached, someone at the front tossed a mooring rope, and those waiting onshore secured the raft tightly to the sandbank.
Many tribe members had never seen such a wide beach. Stepping barefoot onto the clean sand, they were overjoyed.
Looking at the blue sky, sunshine, and vast lake, Han Cheng imagined future days here—fishing, harvesting lotus roots, collecting bird droppings, building a few pavilions, and placing bamboo loungers.
Wearing linen shorts and walking barefoot, one could rest on a lounger, soak up the warm sun, nap, and watch the clouds roll across the sky—a blissful, almost bubble-like vision.
However, spotting the lazy turtles basking on the far beach reminded Han Cheng that this idyllic vision wasn’t complete.
Those turtles, he thought, would one day end up in his cooking pot!
The beach was always a favorite playground for children. Han Cheng demonstrated the simple joy of pressing wet sand into bowls and inverting them onto the beach, leaving a perfect sand dome.
The children and some women were immediately captivated, not wanting to leave.
Han Cheng instructed a few strong individuals who had visited the lotus pond and seen bird droppings to stay nearby with weapons for protection. He, along with Shaman and others, went to explore the western and central parts of the island, inspecting the abundant lotus roots and the critically essential bird droppings and guano rocks.
For the Shaman and the tribe, discovering edible resources and valuable materials far outweighed leisure activities.
A gentle breeze stirred the vast lotus leaves as Shaman grinned toothlessly like a child.
The first-time viewers from the Green Sparrow tribe laughed heartily, especially after Han Cheng explained the delicious taste and high yield of the lotus roots.
“Let’s plant them in the main tribe…” Shaman mumbled repeatedly, and others nodded.
The tribe instinctively wanted to transfer valuable finds to the main settlement to feel secure and ensure ownership.
Han Cheng intended to transplant these lotus roots to the main tribe. The surrounding pits could all be planted to yield a winter harvest.
He also planned to plant them along the Bronze Highway wherever suitable depressions existed, including near the Copper Mountain residential area.
With the vast, sparsely populated lands of this era, manpower from the main tribe could handle large-scale planting.
Even if they couldn’t harvest all the lotus roots at once, leaving them to grow would still offer scenic beauty—a “hundred-li lotus road” with blooms along the Bronze Highway.
After surveying the lotus pond, Han Cheng and Shaman visited the forest, which was covered in thick layers of bird droppings with a strong smell, and featured large guano stones on its eastern side, leading to the southern tip of the island.
The tribe members were ecstatic—so much bird droppings would significantly increase crop yields.
After the tour, Shaman’s toothless grin never faltered; he was energized and excited.
Returning to the lotus pond, they collected over a hundred catties of lotus roots, washed them, and brought them back to the beach.
Some gathered dry wood to light bonfires.
Rocks were arranged around the fire to support ceramic pots, creating makeshift stoves.
Freshly dug lotus roots became the centerpiece of the meal.
Peeled and cut into 4 cm long, 1 cm thick cubes, the lotus root pieces were added to fresh fish or turtle soup nearing completion.
No additional seasoning was used—this was a simple camping meal without vinegar.
When the bonfires were almost burned down, Han Cheng buried some lotus roots in the coals to roast with the glowing embers.
“Delicious! Delicious!”
The dark, rustic fish-lotus and turtle-lotus soups were served, and everyone eagerly ate. Fully cooked lotus cubes were tender, producing white strands when bitten, and tasted excellent.
First-time tasters from the Green Sparrow tribe praised them continuously.
Shaman, with poor teeth, ate even more—the lotus roots suited him perfectly.
Han Cheng was pleased too—the lotus roots exceeded his expectations in quality and texture.
“Try this.”
Han Cheng dug out the charred, roasted lotus roots from the embers and skewered one with a clean, thin branch, testing its doneness.
He removed the ashes and handed the lotus root to Shaman to peel and eat, then did the same himself.
When roasting root vegetables or lotus roots in a fire, it’s best to add them near the end, so they cook without charring.
Han Cheng wrapped the hot roasted lotus root in thick green leaves, peeled, and tasted it—it was tender and richer than boiled lotus root.
Little Pea watched eagerly, hopping and calling “Daddy!”
Han Cheng first let Bai Xue taste a few bites before giving some to Little Pea—a classic act of parental love.
Shaman and others imitated Han Cheng, wrapping roasted lotus roots in leaves, peeling them while eating, and praising the flavor, especially for those with poor teeth.
As the meal ended, the sun slowly descended, and flocks of birds flew in to perch in the island trees, bringing lively chatter.
It was time to leave the island.
With many people present, they departed in two groups. Han Cheng stayed for the second wave, sitting on the beach and watching the distant lake.
Eventually, the returning raft arrived. Han Cheng and those remaining boarded, and the oars propelled them toward the shore.
As the raft rounded the east side of the island, the last rays of the red sun vanished.
The western sky was painted with deep evening clouds, reflecting on the calm lake, blurring the line between water and sky.
Birds flew against the sunset, visible only as dark silhouettes.
“Flocks fly with the sunset, autumn waters mirror the sky.”
Standing on the raft, Han Cheng couldn’t help but recite this famous line from Wang Bo’s classic poem.
By the time they reached shore, dusk had deepened, bringing cool night air.
They walked through the grass toward the under-construction Longmen Inn.
After half the distance, night fell, leaving a dark blue sky with stars and a half-moon illuminating the path.
Adults carried children, while older minors walked with Han Cheng, Shaman, Bai Xue, and others, surrounded by tribe warriors with rattan shields and weapons.
Dogs patrolled the perimeter.
The next morning, the Green Sparrow tribe’s “travel group,” led by Third Senior Brother with armed protection, departed the Longmen Inn, traveling along the Bronze Highway toward the Copper Mountain residential area.
Some bridges were incomplete, and donkeys couldn’t pass, but temporary detours on dirt roads were feasible.
“Ah~!”
On the bare Copper Mountain hill, someone shouted with exhilaration.
Bai Xue and others crouched by the green or blue ponds, marveling at the gem-like water.
Han Cheng, Shaman, Third Senior Brother, and Shang explored the residential area, inspecting furnaces and surrounding farmland with wheat and soybeans.
Shaman, visiting Copper Mountain for the first time, smiled incessantly, joyful like Little Pea.
The sun set again, signaling the end of another day.
Shaman climbed the stone walls of Copper Mountain, gazing at the sunset over the residential area and farmland, grinning like a child.
Before visiting, Shaman had only heard of Copper Mountain and its copper and tin smelting furnaces, as well as the farmland. Still, now seeing it firsthand, it exceeded his expectations, filling him with uncontainable joy.
His eyes landed on the Green Sparrow flag fluttering in the courtyard—a symbol that this home and everything around it belonged to their tribe.
Shaman had known their tribe was strong, but now he truly understood its power after traversing the Bronze Highway.
Han Cheng, holding his young daughter Xiao Xing’er, handed her to Bai Xue and climbed the wall, silently observing Copper Mountain with Shaman.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Han Cheng asked after a while.
“Beautiful!” Shaman nodded vigorously.
“In five, ten years, standing here, the surrounding scenery will be even more breathtaking—you won’t dare blink,” Han Cheng said with a smile.
Shaman nodded again, believing every word.
From early autumn of the first year of Green Sparrow, when he and the senior brothers brought the Divine Child back from the wild, nearly ten years had passed.
In ten years, their tribe had grown from a few dozen members to an unimaginable scale.
Shaman couldn’t imagine what it would be like in another ten years, but he was certain—so long as the Divine Child lived, the tribe would undergo an astonishing transformation again.
The tribe would grow stronger and better.
This thought filled Shaman with hope, though also a faint worry—what if he didn’t live to see it?
“Shaman, live well! I hope to see you, in time, holding Little Pea’s children just like you held Little Pea. Then we’ll ride in our cart, inspecting everything that belongs to our tribe,” Han Cheng said seriously.
Shaman’s heart stirred at the thought, though he feared his own aging—he was approaching the longest-lived in Green Sparrow history, Huo Er. Naturally, he worried.
“Don’t worry, Shaman. People can live a very long time. Some can live over a hundred. You’re still young!” Han Cheng smiled.
Indeed, some could live that long. Though rare, it proved longevity was possible.
In Han Cheng’s future world, without war and with developed living and medical conditions, many reached seventy, eighty, or ninety, even over a hundred, which was rare but possible.
Han Cheng wasn’t joking; Shaman’s apparent age looked older due to the harsh life in the tribe, but he was likely under sixty, still strong and capable.
“Really? People can live that long?” Shaman asked, excited.
“Of course. With adequate food, clothing, shelter, safety from wild animals and disease, humans can live for many years. You’re not old at all,” Han Cheng assured him.
Han Cheng understood Shaman’s most significant concern—longevity. He knew how powerful psychological reassurance could be.
Seizing the moment, Han Cheng encouraged Shaman, hoping he would live long to accompany him and the tribe for many more years.
Under the soft sunset light, Shaman looked visibly younger and more spirited; even his slightly hunched back straightened.
Seeing Shaman in this state, Han Cheng smiled sincerely.