I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 789: The Magical Ink Line

I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 789: The Magical Ink Line

Chapter 789: The Magical Ink Line
Many things in the world are like this — just separated by a thin layer of paper on a window. Once you break through that layer, you immediately get a whole new, brand-new outcome, and discovering a whole new world isn’t impossible.
But breaking through that thin membrane isn’t easy.
Take Lame for example.
Attaching wheels to things and making carts for transportation is the most normal thing for people from the future, but for the people in the tribe, it’s tough to come up with.
If it weren’t for Han Cheng’s timely hints, even given their current level, it would still be challenging for the tribe’s people to think about adding wheels to sleds to make carts pulled by deer or donkeys.
You only need to see Lame’s reaction now to understand this.
In fact, this is the most significant advantage of someone who has traveled back in time: because they know from many years ahead, things that seem trivial and natural to them will cause a considerable stir in the eyes of the people in this era.
Seeing Lame bow deeply to him and respectfully call him “Divine Child,” along with the shaman who soon joined in, Han Cheng was full of emotion.
That Lame could become the top carpenter in the Green Sparrow tribe was no accident; just by seeing how excited he was after learning about donkey carts and wanting to get started right away, it was clear.
The key part of making a two-wheeled donkey cart isn’t the sled-like body on top, but the wheels underneath.
This is a very technically demanding part, especially the axle bearing that connects the two wheels.
The weight of the cart itself, plus whatever load it carries, is first borne by the bearing, then distributed to the two wheels — the load it must handle is huge.
Before the tribe had bronze, relying solely on hardwood to make axles for single-wheel carts was doable, but for two-wheeled donkey carts destined to carry heavy loads, hardwood was not up to the task.
Therefore, making donkey carts wasn’t just the job of Lame the carpenter, but also Heiwa, who made molds, and the second senior brother in charge of bronze and iron production, besides sling making.
Han Cheng hadn’t even finished saying they needed to call Second Senior Brother and Heiwa to study the matter together when Bo, extremely excited, was already limping away quickly to find the two.
His speed made Han Cheng, whose legs were perfectly fine, feel a bit left behind.
Before long, Second Senior Brother and Heiwa arrived, both equally excited, following Bo.
“Divine Child!”
“Divine Child!”
They had roughly figured out from Lame on the way over why Han Cheng called them, and after greeting Han Cheng, their eyes gleamed as they waited for him to assign the task.
Han Cheng was delighted with their attitude. He immediately took a sheet of paper, a charcoal pencil, a ruler, and a compass, and began drawing two wheels connected by an axle bearing.
After finishing the drawing, he shared some of his own insights.
Regarding wheels, Han Cheng’s memories mostly came from childhood, playing with friends in his village, spinning the wheels from their family’s ox cart — one wheel touching the ground, the other suspended.
Holding it by hand and giving it a strong spin, the ox cart wheel would turn.
In those toy-scarce days, such fun was enough to keep him entertained for hours.
But the ox cart wheels back home had rubber tires and bearings connecting wheels to axles, with steel sleeves and little steel balls between inner and outer sleeves, all lubricated with oil.
These features reduced friction, making the cart’s movement lighter and smoother.
Knowing this was far from actually making such a thing, but at least he understood the direction they needed to aim for.
Han Cheng pointed to his simple sketch while explaining this to the group.
Lame and Heiwa understood quickly; Second Senior Brother, a latecomer to bronze work, was slower to grasp compared to the other two, who caught on immediately.
During this process, Han Cheng had to maintain a gentle and calm attitude, or else this big, imposing man would show a face like he was about to cry — which was hard to watch.
Fortunately, the bearing sleeve and related parts mainly depended on Heiwa making the molds; once the molds were ready, Second Senior Brother could follow procedures to cast the parts.
The discussion about donkey carts went on until dusk before concluding.
By then, several other Green Sparrow tribe leaders had arrived after hearing the news, like the Eldest senior brother, Shang, and Mao.
Everyone leaving the meeting was visibly excited, eager to ride on those two-wheeled donkey carts.
Meanwhile, the key technicians, Second Senior Brother, Lame, and Heiwa, were rubbing their hands, rolling up their sleeves, ready to start work.
If not for Han Cheng ordering them to rest well and start fresh tomorrow, these guys could have easily stayed up all night working…
“Brother Cheng, what is a donkey cart?”
That night, lying on the kang bed, Bai Xue asked Han Cheng with curiosity.
“It’s a sled with a large wheel installed on each side near the middle, then hitched to donkeys to pull it,” Han Cheng explained.
After thinking a moment, he added, “Once the tribe builds the donkey carts and the road to the Copper Mountain settlement is ready, we’ll hitch the donkey cart, load it with canned goods, jerky, millet, pots, and bowls. I’ll drive the cart, and you and Little Pea will ride along. Then, we’ll take Fu Jiang and Tuantuan with us to Copper Mountain to play.
I’ll show you the blue-glowing pools on Copper Mountain…”
In the future, if you tried to take a girl out, saying, “I’m bringing the family ox cart, you and the kids will see the outside world,” you’d most likely get a blank stare, and then she’d turn and leave.
Taking the kids along? That’s just a dream.
But now it was totally different.
When Han Cheng talked about this donkey cart without keys that could even drop your belt, and taking her and the kids out to play, Bai Xue hugged his arm happily, eyes sparkling.
Han Cheng thought again: if single guys back home knew how easy it was to find a wife here, with such low demands, they might rush to the desert and touch those rock paintings…
He guessed that if the time travel was far enough back, maybe he could even find a fair-skinned, beautiful, long-legged, blonde-haired, blue-eyed wife.
Of course, the premise was to survive this era, not become beast food, and take her to wash up…
The next day, many tribe members woke early, some with dark circles under their eyes.
Most obvious were Lame, Heiwa, and Second Senior Brother — the leading donkey cart builders — and Bai Xue, too excited from the idea of a donkey cart trip to sleep well.
When Tuantuan and his mom arrived, they looked puzzled at the tired bunch, silently hugged their bamboo, and quietly left…
“Chii chii~ chii chii~”
Outside the carpenter’s workshop, two apprentices whom Lame had brought out stopped weaving rattan armor. They were now energetically pulling a saw, cutting down along a straight line drawn with a charcoal pencil and ruler. As fine sawdust fluttered down, a piece of wood standing upright gradually got cut into planks.
Lame squatted nearby, holding a bronze axe, chopping another piece of wood.
The sled’s upper part looked quite similar to the donkey cart’s, but there were still some differences. Also, it felt a bit wasteful to destroy a perfect sled to turn it into a donkey cart. Since the bronze axle and related parts couldn’t be made quickly, and time was sufficient, Lame planned to build a new donkey cart based on the sled’s design, incorporating some of Han Cheng’s suggestions from yesterday.
After making this new donkey cart, they would move on to crafting the wooden wheels…
Inside the pottery workshop, Heiwa was squatting and molding clay to make a new mold. The process was not going smoothly; he kept glancing over at two sheets of paper placed not far away.
On those sheets were Han Cheng’s drawings — the two wheels connected by an axle bearing, and the bearing itself.
After looking for a while, Heiwa returned to continue making the mold.
During this process, he ruined many half-finished clay molds.
Nearby, the shaman’s hand warmer, Yuan, was helping to knead clay. Having made pottery often back in the semi-agricultural tribe, Yuan had a strong passion for pottery.
So, after coming to the Green Sparrow tribe and seeing Heiwa making pottery, she would often watch with keen eyes.
After watching for some time, she began to help knead clay herself and tried making pottery.
With a pottery master like Heiwa around, Yuan benefited a lot, and her pottery skills improved significantly compared to before…
“Sigh~”
One apprentice carpenter, holding a long wooden ruler in one hand and a charcoal pencil in the other, couldn’t help but sigh.
He had just drawn a crooked line — his third time already.
If the line were not corrected, once they cut the wood along it, the whole plank would be ruined and become scrap. So the apprentice had to find a rag, wet it, and keep wiping the line off.
After carefully cleaning it, he drew the line again — and again it was wrong.
This made the apprentice both angry and anxious, causing him to stomp his feet on the spot.
The piece of wood currently being cut was already halfway through. Soon it would be finished. If he couldn’t draw the lines correctly before the wood was entirely cut, the work would be delayed.
And the senior carpenter, Lame, might blame him.
The apprentice felt rushed to finish the lines, but the more anxious he got, the more mistakes he made.
As the remaining wood neared completion and the apprentice still struggled with the lines, the apprentice suddenly started crying, tears dropping quickly.
“Why aren’t you done yet?”
Lame, who was chopping a pillar nearby with his axe and hadn’t heard the saw for a moment, looked up to see the two sawing apprentices resting and standing near the apprentice drawing lines.
Seeing the apprentice wiping tears anxiously, Lame immediately understood.
He frowned and asked sternly.
This apprentice had only recently started learning carpentry; it was normal to be inexperienced in drawing lines. Previous apprentices also struggled with marking lines at first.
Lame understood this.
What made him angry was seeing the apprentice crying.
Everyone encounters difficulties; when that happens, they should try to overcome them. Crying like this was something Lame couldn’t stand.
The apprentice, already very anxious, became even more so after Lame’s words.
Although he tried hard to stop crying, he just couldn’t.
Seeing this, Lame’s frown deepened, and the two who had been helping stopped their work.
In the Green Sparrow tribe, openly expressing emotions when facing hardship was not well-received.
“What’s going on?”
Han Cheng came out of the pottery workshop and saw the scene, asking what was going on.
“Divine Child, he’s drawing the lines…”
Lame didn’t hide anything and explained the situation directly in front of the apprentice.
The apprentice, already crying hard, sobbed uncontrollably.
Han Cheng smiled at Lame after hearing the situation, then asked about the donkey cart’s body construction before walking over to the apprentice.
Like most children, the apprentice was worried about facing an adult after making a mistake.
He was already upset about being blamed by the senior carpenter, Lame, for poor lines, and now the most respected Divine Child happened to arrive right at this moment.
What made it worse was that Divine Child was now approaching him…
“Can’t draw the lines well?”
Han Cheng squatted beside the apprentice and asked gently.
This apprentice was born in the second spring of the Green Sparrow calendar, named Mao’er (Cat Ear) because his ear was not perfectly round but somewhat like an irregular triangle.
According to the Green Sparrow calendar, Mao’er was already eight years old and considered nine by traditional counting.
At nine, in the future, kids were still in primary school, but Mao’er not only studied some knowledge at the Green Sparrow school but also worked as a carpenter apprentice.
This was already a significant change after Han Cheng arrived. Before, children of Mao’er’s age in the tribe mostly didn’t take part in dangerous hunting and were treated like adults in most other work.
“Having a mountain means relying on it; no mountain means carrying it alone.” The saying for poor kids growing up early perfectly describes the life of most underage children in this era.
Mao’er held back his tears desperately, but the more he tried, the harder it got.
The Divine Child’s question only made him more unable to stop crying.
Yet he couldn’t avoid answering.
As he tried to speak while sobbing with tears and snot flowing, he blew a massive snot bubble from his left nostril — so big it almost covered half his face.
Mao’er himself was stunned by this magical incident and forgot to cry or reply for a moment.
Seeing all this, Han Cheng, though knowing laughing now was inappropriate, couldn’t hold back.
He crouched down and laughed heartily, clutching his belly.
Han Cheng was good at holding back laughs, usually, rarely laughed so wildly.
Unless he couldn’t help it.
Mao’er, blown-up snot bubble and all, saw Divine Child laughing uncontrollably in front of him.
He froze for a moment, then finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into loud crying again.
The two of them, one big and one small, created quite a lively scene—one squatting and holding his belly laughing, the other standing and bawling loudly.
Anyone from the future who didn’t know the background would probably think Han Cheng, this strange uncle, had stolen the kid’s bubble gum.
Bubble gum… huh.
Seeing Mao’er cry even harder, Han Cheng finally summoned great willpower to hold back his laughter.
“Stop crying. Wash your hands and face properly. After you wash and stop crying, I’ll teach you a quick way to draw straight lines.”
Han Cheng put on a serious face and said authoritatively to Mao’er.
Sure enough, a serious face worked best with such a little guy. Watching Mao’er walk away, occasionally wiping his face, Han Cheng—who had just been serious—burst into silent laughter again.
Just then, Mao’er turned his head back unexpectedly, and Han Cheng instantly snapped back to a serious expression.
“Divine Child, is there really a quick way to draw lines?”
After washing up, Mao’er’s tears mostly stopped, and Lame came over to ask upon hearing Han Cheng’s words.
As the tribe’s top carpenter, Lame didn’t want to miss any improvement related to woodworking or weaving.
“Yes, there really is, but I just thought of it myself.”
Han Cheng nodded and said.
Hearing Han Cheng confirm this, Lame immediately brightened up, full of expectation.
Han Cheng turned and went back inside to fetch a thin hemp rope, and also took a block of ink made by the shaman. He added some water to a roughly made pottery inkstone and began grinding the ink slowly.
As he ground, the water in the inkstone gradually darkened, turning into ink.
Lame stood by, watching and thinking hard, trying to understand how the Divine Child would use these things to make better lines.
Of course, Lame knew you needed charcoal pencils or ink with a brush for marking lines—but he was puzzled why Han Cheng didn’t bring a brush, but instead took out a length of hemp rope.
Isn’t hemp rope used for weaving cloth or making rope? Why was the Divine Child now bringing it out?
“Hold this end.”
After grinding the ink, Han Cheng soaked the hemp rope in the pottery inkstone, leaving only the two ends exposed.
He then pointed to the other end and said to Mao’er, who had finished washing his face and came back over.
Mao’er was attracted by this unusual object that Han Cheng had prepared. Except for the occasional sniffle, he had stopped crying.
Hearing Han Cheng’s instructions, Mao’er imitated him and carefully pinched the other end of the soaked hemp rope.
Following Han Cheng’s signal, the two pulled the ink-soaked hemp rope taut between them, heading over to the piece of wood Mao’er had been drawing lines on not long ago.
“Pull the rope up a bit with your hands, then let it go.”
Under Han Cheng’s guidance, they stretched the ink-soaked rope tight between two marks previously carved at either end of the wooden post.
Han Cheng looked carefully, confirming both ends were aligned, then said to Mao’er as he made a motion with his free hand, pinching the rope, pulling it upward, and then releasing it.
Mao’er followed the instructions cautiously, pinching the soaked hemp rope, pulling it up, then letting go.
The rope snapped back against the wood, leaving a clear black line—perfectly straight, without any curve.
Mao’er looked at his ink-stained fingers, then at the slightly trembling hemp rope and the clear ink line below it. His eyes grew wide with surprise and disbelief.
He couldn’t believe that the line that had troubled him to tears before was now made so easily, straight and evenly thick.
“Divine Child…”
Mao’er looked up at Han Cheng, both amazed and overjoyed, a little stunned and speechless.
Han Cheng smiled and said, “Come, let’s draw another line.”
“Okay!”
Mao’er nodded eagerly and, together with Han Cheng, moved the hemp rope to the next marked spot.
This time, without Han Cheng needing to speak, Mao’er pinched the rope himself, pulled it up, and let go.
Fine ink droplets scattered as another black, straight line appeared on the wooden post.
Looking at the new line and the rope stretched between him and Han Cheng, Mao’er’s eyes lit up.
Not only Mao’er’s eyes lit up, but also those of Lame, the first carpenter, and the other younger carpenters watching nearby.
Among them, Lame’s eyes shone the brightest.
Using a wooden ruler on logs or planks to draw straight lines looked easy, but in practice, especially on round wooden pillars, it was not so simple.
Most wood wasn’t smooth or flat.
Having one end thicker and the other thinner was common. Curved pillars and knots were no surprise.
Rigid wooden rulers tended to lift off uneven surfaces, making them hard to fix in place. Sometimes, the charcoal pencil was too short, and the gap between the ruler and the wood too big, making the ruler unreliable.
Even a skilled carpenter like Lame sometimes made mistakes; others had it even harder.
But the flexible hemp rope had none of these problems. Even uneven surfaces could be marked clearly.
Two points define a line: once the rope ends were fixed to the marked spots, pulling and releasing the rope would create a straight line that couldn’t be crooked.
Such a tricky problem was now solved by the Divine Child’s simple method.
Using ink to snap the rope not only drew straight lines but was simple, easy to operate, and fast.
One line snapped out in an instant—much quicker than using a ruler and a charcoal pencil.
“Divine Child, I… I want to try…”
Seeing three perfectly straight lines now on the pillar, Lame, the lead carpenter, finally couldn’t contain his excitement.
Rubbing his hands nervously, he stammered to Han Cheng.
Han Cheng smiled and handed the hemp rope to Lame, inviting him and the apprentice Mao’er to try snapping ink lines together.
“Magic! It’s truly magical!”
After copying Han Cheng and Mao’er, Lame snapped several ink lines, gazing at the ink-stained rope and the neat, straight lines, and couldn’t help but praise them repeatedly.
Such simple materials and a method producing such good results—it was terrific.
“Divine Child really lives up to his name!”
As Lame praised, other carpenters learning the craft also couldn’t resist trying this convenient, fast way of marking lines.
One after another, their faces full of amazement and praise, like kids who’d just found a new favorite candy, they couldn’t stop.
The boy Mao’er, who earlier had been shedding tears because he struggled so much with drawing straight lines, no longer cried. Holding one end of the ink-soaked hemp rope, he had already become like a master craftsman himself, and the warm, proud feeling inside him was indescribable.
After a while, Mao’er looked at the ink line in his hand and then at the Divine Child (Han Cheng) standing nearby with a smiling face. His heart was warm, but other emotions were stirring inside as well.
It was the Divine Child who, at his most challenging moment, showed him a way out, helping him overcome his previous troubles and taste a feeling he had never experienced before.
Not being blamed by others, and finally feeling proud and dignified—this feeling was truly incredible!
This apprentice, who wasn’t particularly smart and could be called somewhat clumsy, held the ink rope in his hand. Excited, he also quietly resolved to master his craft.
In life, the words and actions of parents, elders, teachers, and others greatly influence children.
Especially for children who have never succeeded and feel little sense of achievement, it is crucial to achieve success in some area under the guidance of family or mentors to gain a sense of accomplishment.
This previously unknown achievement can have a significant impact on them, serving as a guiding light and source of strength throughout their growth.
Han Cheng saw Mao’er’s tightly clenched fists and shining eyes. His smile grew even brighter. Smiling, he gave Mao’er a firm nod of approval and encouragement, then clenched his right fist and pounded it firmly against his chest.
After seeing this, Mao’er hesitated a moment, then also nodded vigorously to Han Cheng, clenching his still growing right fist and pounding his slender chest with a “thump-thump” sound.
Watching Mao’er’s determined expression as he beat his chest, Lame, the master carpenter, momentarily lost himself in thought.
Because of Mao’er, he suddenly recalled the time the Divine Child had come and taken him ice-fishing.
That was the moment when Lame, limping as he was, began to slowly shed the burden of being a tribe’s useless member.
Lame remembered himself, tearful, holding the largest fish the leader had given him — how similar he was to Mao’er now, still a minor.
The Divine Child was like a light, always able to make people like them, seemingly worthless, come alive.
“Divine Child!”
Recalling the past, Lame’s eyes reddened. Suddenly, he bowed respectfully to Han Cheng, his voice low but full of deep reverence.
“Divine Child!”
Not sure if from pounding his chest a bit too hard or because of his reddened eyes, Mao’er imitated Lame and also bowed respectfully to Han Cheng.
His voice, still somewhat childish, was full of admiration.
The other carpenters felt something as well, and all of them followed Lame and Mao’er’s example, bowing respectfully to Han Cheng.
Han Cheng looked at those bowing and couldn’t help sniffing. It was just part of his duty, really—did it have to be so emotional?
Seeing the scene, Han Cheng just wanted to say one thing: “It’s no big deal. There’s still so much more we can do…”
“Here’s the simplest tool: you can carve two wooden boxes—one large, one small—and fix them onto a flat wooden board about 14 or 15 centimeters long and 5 centimeters wide.
The two boxes are placed on the board, with the larger one at the back and the smaller one in front.
Then, drill a horizontal hole through the middle of the large box, aligned with a hole on the opposite side.
Insert a small copper rod bent like a crank handle through these two holes and fix it in place.
Next, wrap a length of hemp rope around the copper rod inside the large box.
The outer end of the hemp rope is pulled out through a hole in the front of the large box.
The smaller box in front also needs holes drilled vertically, aligned with the hole where the rope comes out of the large box.
Pull the hemp rope end out through these two holes in the small box.
Tie a small copper hook to the end of this rope.
Inside the small box, put some old cloth soaked in ink.
When in use, pull the copper hook to draw out the rope.
The hemp rope wrapped around the copper rod will unwind, pass through the ink-soaked cloth in the small box, and get dyed black.
When not in use, turn the copper crank on the large box to rewind the rope completely…”
After making everyone stand upright, Han Cheng began explaining this suddenly recalled carpenter’s tool called an “ink line reel”.
The structure of the ink line reel wasn’t complicated.
Just by listening to Han Cheng’s explanation, Lame, the first carpenter of the Green Sparrow Tribe, had already sketched the shape of this previously unseen tool in his mind.
Looking at the dried, ink-stained hemp rope and imagining the ink line reel Han Cheng described, Lame became increasingly excited.
Soon, he couldn’t help but bow to Han Cheng again, praising the Divine Child. This was the third time in just a few days that Lame had done so.
After bowing, he eagerly went off to make an ink line reel.
The other carpenters were equally excited, all wanting to see how the master Lame would craft such a seemingly magical tool.
Mao’er was no exception.
However, after walking a few steps towards the carpenter’s room with them, he paused, stood still for a moment, then grabbed a bronze axe nearby.
He found a scrap piece of wood, placed it on a plank, and began chopping with the axe, one strike at a time.
After a few chops, he would pause, look at the wood, remember the shortcomings, then continue chopping, his expression serious.
Back home, Han Cheng’s hometown had a saying: “Three years for an axe, two years for a plane, a big saw only takes one morning,” referring to how complex different carpenter tools are to master.
Among them, the axe was the most common but most challenging to master.
That’s why most apprentices start by pulling big saws to cut planks.
Han Cheng, who had just entered the carpenter’s room with Lame and the others, looked through the window at Mao’er crouched outside, seriously chopping scrap wood with an axe.
A smile spread across Han Cheng’s face.
When a person gains spirit and drive, and wants to stop being a “salted fish” (lazy/aimless), wanting to make something of themselves, they truly change.
The ink line reel’s structure wasn’t complicated, the materials were easy to find, and it was small.
With Han Cheng, who once snapped ink lines with ropes on wood as a child, guiding and correcting, in just two hours, a brand-new tool—one that really shouldn’t exist in this era—was created.
Fortunately, this is a historical world; if it were a world of gods, demons, and magic, a time traveler like Han Cheng, who keeps pulling out things from the future, might be attacked by a “child of the plane” (a powerful being).
But when Han Cheng recalled the end of the Western Han, when the great demon master Liu Xiu summoned meteorites to crush the seemingly time-traveling Wang Mang, he was a little unsettled.
Who says historical worlds don’t have “children of the plane” who combine heaven’s forces and countless fortunes?
This sudden thought made Han Cheng shrink his neck and repeatedly glance upward, fearing a meteorite might fall and crush him at any moment, summoned by such a being.
After checking the clear, cloudless sky several times, he calmed down.
By then, Lame had already started pouring the ground ink into the small ink box.
The old cloth inside absorbed the ink thoroughly.
This slowed ink evaporation and, if the ink box were accidentally knocked over, no ink would spill and stain things.
At Han Cheng’s signal, Lame, visibly excited, hooked the small copper hook tied to the hemp rope onto the edge of a piece of wood, then pulled back, holding the ink box.
With increasing tension and rotation of the copper handle, the hemp rope wrapped around the copper rod unwound in a circular motion.
As the rope passed through the ink-soaked cloth in the small ink box, it became dyed black.
Lame came to the side where the wooden pillar lay flat, pressed his thumb on the copper handle to stop the rope from unwinding, bent down, aligned the rope end with previously carved marks, then pinched the rope, pulled it up, and let go.
With a faint sound, the rope snapped against the wood, leaving a clear, perfectly straight line.
If the copper hook at the rope’s end was well-made, one person could complete the line snapping alone, just like Lame now.
Though the others had seen hemp rope line snapping moments ago, now watching Lame complete the line snapping alone with the newly made ink line reel, the young carpenters watching showed surprise and eagerness to try.
Seeing Lame holding the ink line reel and the others’ happy faces, Han Cheng touched his head and thought to himself: “If only I had thought of this tool earlier, they could’ve improved work efficiency sooner.”
Thinking this, Han Cheng shook his head with a smile.
In the future, he had seen many things, many of which were buried in memory; without the right opportunity, forcibly recalling them was nearly impossible.

Chapter 789: The Magical Ink Line