I am a Primitive Man
Chapter 926: Heiwa Who Sold His Dignity
A hooked wooden stick was plunged into the water, hooking the bamboo soaked within.
Shi Tou strained his arms, pulling the bamboo toward the water’s surface.
The once-clear water became slightly murky with this motion, and the scent sealed within began to waft into the surrounding air.
Bamboo growing on land looked beautiful, but after soaking in water for some time, it would start to smell, much like soaked flax.
However, Shi Tou didn’t care about the smell.
Having carried out all kinds of large tasks with the tribe—hauling manure, cleaning pig, deer, and sheep pens, and even treating the Green Creek Tribe members who mistakenly ingested kaolin clay alongside Tietou—what scene could shock him? This was trivial, just a drizzle compared to what he had seen.
After raising the bamboo slightly above the water, Shi Tou crouched down to scrutinize it. This bamboo had already been soaking in water before the Divine Child had left for Jinguan City.
So long in water, the bamboo had changed color, no longer the vibrant green it once was.
It had turned dark, with a slick water-rust forming on the surface.
Shi Tou pinched the bamboo, noting its softness and some decay. From his previous papermaking experience, he knew this bamboo was not suitable for making paper.
He sighed. Producing the writing paper the Divine Child described from this material was impossible—at least before the new year.
As the weather cooled, the rate of decay would slow.
This wasn’t something the Divine Child had told him; Shi Tou had learned it over years of papermaking.
Why it happened this way, he didn’t understand.
Before the Divine Child left for Jinguan City, Shi Tou had asked why.
The Divine Child explained that in hot weather, water becomes warm enough for tiny, invisible creatures—what he called bacteria—to thrive.
These creatures would gnaw away at the surface, causing the soaked flax and bamboo to slowly decompose.
The thought terrified Shi Tou. For a time, he even refused to drink water, fearing he would ingest countless tiny creatures.
It wasn’t drinking water—it was drinking a soup of bugs!
Even more terrifying was that, just as they devoured flax, these creatures could theoretically gnaw on him.
If hard bamboo and flax could be devoured, a human would be even more vulnerable.
Shi Tou only dared to drink after the Divine Child explained that boiling water would eliminate the threat.
Gradually, as he learned more about these tiny creatures, his fear subsided.
He even developed a fascination, often trying to peer into the water to catch a glimpse of these creatures.
Unfortunately, no matter how he looked, the water appeared unchanged, which frustrated him.
The Divine Child told him he would need a tool—a microscope—made from a substance cleaner and clearer than ice.
Shi Tou had never seen such a material, but he believed in its existence, just as he believed in the existence of oxen.
The Divine Child gave a simple explanation of how to make such a microscope, but it sounded complicated. Even though Shi Tou recorded it, he could no longer recall the details.
However, he remembered other lessons clearly, such as how hot weather accelerates the spread of smells, as illustrated by the Divine Child with the summer latrine.
Reflecting on this, Shi Tou felt deep respect for the Divine Child—he noticed things others hadn’t and deduced patterns from them.
After examining the bamboo, Shi Tou returned it to the water, then moved to the next pond, repeating the process carefully.
Though microscopes were still far off, papermaking with bamboo was immediately doable.
After checking all six ponds, Shi Tou cleaned his hands in the river, dried them, and recorded the date and bamboo condition in his notebook with a charcoal pencil.
With this done, he started back to the tribe with his findings.
Meanwhile, Heiwa reopened the sealed kiln. Under the tribe’s expectant gazes, he reached in and pulled out a white object, eager to inspect it.
A glance was enough to make his heart pound.
Unlike previous white pottery, this piece, made from kaolin, looked smoother, even slightly glossy.
It was unprecedented—this object resembled the porcelain the Divine Child had described!
Others nearby also noticed, some shouting excitedly: “Porcelain! Porcelain!”
Heiwa blushed with excitement, though years of experience had made him more composed.
After a moment, he regained his composure, studying the object carefully. It was still different from true porcelain, lacking the crisp tone the Divine Child described.
The piece sounded better than regular pottery but remained dull.
Although slightly disappointed, Heiwa’s determination and excitement quickly returned. If he could achieve this much, true porcelain was achievable in time.
Progress, however, was never easy, especially in the final steps.
Heiwa had repeatedly fired pottery, trying every adjustment, yet the final step eluded him. No matter how long or carefully he fired, the best result was always semi-porcelain.
This frustrated him greatly; he had begun to withdraw, avoiding singing or social interactions.
He seemed distracted even during meals, dropping chopsticks or mistakenly covering the wrong container with a lid.
At one point, he repeatedly dropped a small lid into a large vat, laughing and experimenting as the cool air blew up from the vat.
Despite the low temperature, Heiwa was unbothered, delighted by this playful discovery, especially since it was related to the porcelain he longed to create.
After a while, he set the lid properly on the small jar, left the basin aside, and raced to the pottery workshop.
Inside, he eagerly began working with clay, inspired by the sudden insight.
Under the onlookers’ surprised gazes, Heiwa shaped a clay piece resembling a large jar, without a bottom.
It was a hollow cylinder of uniform width, unlike normal jars with narrow bases and wide middles.
Satisfied with this creation, he moved on to another peculiar piece: a large, flat clay disk with a hole in the center.
Heiwa handled both pieces seriously, measuring repeatedly with a stick used for the cylinder.
Once shaped, he began drying them over a fire, aiming to bake them thoroughly before firing them in the kiln.
“Clatter…”
Seeing the large clay disk break in the middle, Heiwa mimicked the Divine Child, sniffing dramatically.
He wasn’t upset—the disk was heavy and difficult to manipulate, and it hadn’t achieved his intended result.
Pushing the broken disk aside, he sought his spouse, Zhuang, to craft a lid for the cylinder to generate stronger airflow.
Although Zhuang had been dissatisfied with Heiwa’s behavior recently, she knew him well and cooperated, happily helping him make the lid…
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