I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 808: On Talent and the Importance of Mathematics

I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 808: On Talent and the Importance of Mathematics

Chapter 808: On Talent and the Importance of Mathematics
After the shaman spoke, most of the people gathered around voiced their agreement, especially Second Senior Brother, who had just been swinging his hammer for quite a while. He agreed with the shaman the most.
In the whole tribe right now, in terms of pure strength, he was the greatest. And just now, he had personally taken the hammer and pounded hard for a long stretch. His arms were still tingling from the shock, yet not even a few drops of oil had come out. It was clear that there was really no more oil inside.
What’s more, they had already extracted so much oil just now—enough to fill a whole basin. Surely the insides had been completely drained.
Han Cheng swept his gaze over the crowd. He saw that most people agreed with the shaman’s view, and even those who hadn’t spoken, from their expressions, it was clear they also agreed. Only Yuan stayed quiet, looking like she wanted to speak but held back.
“Yuan, do you think there’s still oil in there?”
Seeing her expression, Han Cheng’s heart stirred, and he asked aloud.
Over the past few days, Han Cheng had gradually taught Yuan quite a bit of mathematics. She had already grasped simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. From her expression now, it seemed she had noticed something.
“There should still be oil inside,” Yuan said after hesitating when Han Cheng called her by name.
Han Cheng ignored the disbelief and surprise of the shaman and others, and instead smiled and asked Yuan again: “How did you determine there’s still oil?”
He asked while feeling a faint sense of anticipation.
“It’s just that…”
Yuan trailed off. She opened her mouth several times but couldn’t find the words to express what she meant. After scratching her head for a while, she suddenly squatted down, picked up a stick, and began drawing on the ground.
This scene left the shaman, Second Senior Brother, and the rest puzzled. Didn’t the Divine Child ask how she knew the oil wasn’t fully pressed out? Why was she crouching on the ground writing?
Could writing really explain it?
Seeing this, the smile on Han Cheng’s face grew deeper.
He leaned closer to see what Yuan was writing with the stick.
The first thing Yuan wrote was the multiplication table up to nine.
She could recite it from memory in the order Han Cheng had taught her, though she hadn’t yet reached the point of effortless application.
Whenever she needed to calculate, Yuan would first write out the multiplication table and then use it for reference.
After writing out the table, she drew a division sign on the ground and divided thirty-five by five. Referring to the multiplication table, she got the result: seven.
Then she divided three hundred and fifty by five, and after a round of calculation, she obtained seventy.
The calculation itself was correct, but it didn’t solve the present problem.
Han Cheng immediately saw where the mistake lay, but he didn’t point it out. Instead, he stood there watching Yuan, who worked through it like an elementary schooler.
After a series of steps, Yuan finally wrote a subtraction problem. Assisted by counting on her fingers, she calculated seventy minus thirty-five, and got thirty-five.
“Divine Child, there’s still this much oil that hasn’t been pressed out,” Yuan said, pointing at the jars of tung oil.
Even before calculating, Yuan had a vague sense that not all the oil had been extracted. When the Divine Child asked her, she felt even more certain.
But since she wasn’t yet fluent in addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, she couldn’t articulate her reasoning directly, so she squatted down and calculated it step by step.
The shaman and Second Senior Brother looked in the direction of the jars she pointed to. Each of them wore expressions of disbelief.
They had all seen clearly: this time, they had pressed out a whole basin full of oil—thirty-five jin in total—now stored in those jars.
And Second Senior Brother, the strongest among them, had just swung the bronze hammer with full force. Yet almost no oil came out. Under such circumstances, Yuan was claiming there was still thirty-five jin of oil left in the simple press? Of course, they didn’t believe it.
How could that be possible?!
“Divine Child, could there really still be that much oil left inside?” the shaman asked, scratching his thinning hair, baffled.
He hadn’t believed it at first either. But hearing Yuan insist, he began to waver.
After nearly a year living together, the shaman had come to understand Yuan more and more. He knew she was a brilliant woman.
What she said might sound unbelievable, but it still planted doubt in his heart.
Especially seeing her crouched there with a stick, writing, calculating, counting on her fingers, muttering under her breath—she really looked convincing.
As the shaman asked, everyone else, including the nervous Yuan herself, turned their eyes to Han Cheng.
Han Cheng shook his head with a smile. “Not as much as Yuan says.”
At these words, the shaman, Second Senior Brother, and the others all breathed sighs of relief. Especially Second Senior Brother—he even grinned widely. He had said so, hadn’t he? His arms were still numb from earlier, his strength nearly spent. How could it be possible that so much oil was still left unpressed?
But Yuan’s face showed confusion and conflict. By the method of calculation the Divine Child had taught her, there should still be thirty-five jin left. Why was he now saying otherwise?
“Not thirty-five jin, as Yuan says, but still quite a lot.”
Before Second Senior Brother and the others could enjoy their relief for long, Han Cheng spoke again, dashing their comfort. After that, he smiled and said to Yuan, “Try calculating it again.”
Yuan, still conflicted and puzzled, didn’t argue. She immediately squatted back down and carefully checked the calculations she had just written on the ground.
As she checked, she occasionally drew more figures with her stick, her expression full of thought.
After a long while, Yuan’s eyes suddenly lit up. She paused for a moment, then began calculating again in another spot, using her stick as a pen.
Unlike her earlier slow and hesitant checking, Yuan’s movements this time were much quicker, her whole process of calculation looking far smoother and natural.
“Divine Child, it’s fifteen jin, not thirty-five jin!”
After working through the math for a while, Yuan suddenly lifted her head, her face full of delight, and said to Han Cheng.
Han Cheng looked at her with approval, nodded vigorously, and smiled: “Yes, exactly fifteen jin!”
As he spoke, he even gave her a thumbs-up.
Yuan, the former priestess of the half-farming tribe, was indeed much smarter than the average person. Mathematics had always been taught in the tribe. Most people could still manage addition and subtraction, but the moment multiplication and division came into play, they were utterly at a loss.
Of those who could perform multiplication and division, many were only capable of handling numbers on paper, but couldn’t apply the knowledge to solve real-life problems.
Yet Yuan, who had only been learning math for just over two months—less time than most in the tribe—was already able to apply it to practical situations.
Today’s string of calculations, besides simple addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, had even touched a bit upon proportions.
Although Yuan didn’t fully understand ratios, she had still independently arrived at the correct result.
True, her first attempt was wrong, but even so, this was already extremely impressive.
After all, she hadn’t been studying mathematics for very long, and applying it to practical situations was far more complex than working with pure numbers.
Sure enough, mathematics was a subject for the clever, and talent often made all the difference.
When it came to physical labor, most people in the tribe were strong and fearless, but when it came to learning, many grew timid and hesitant.
The written characters were still easier—thanks to the popularity of Green Sparrow Tribe classics like The Tadpole Looking for Its Mother and The Monkey Fishing for the Moon, people’s interest in reading and writing remained high.
But math—abstract, full of rules, and more complicated to grasp—truly gave everyone a headache. Even Shi Tou, the brightest student in the tribe, would scratch his head in frustration when facing math. To this day, he could only manage basic arithmetic; anything deeper was beyond his comprehension.
And even with just that, Shi Tou was already considered among the best in the whole tribe.
Now that Han Cheng had discovered Yuan’s natural gift, of course, he wouldn’t let it go to waste. He needed to encourage her to immerse herself more deeply in the fascinating world of mathematics, so she could go further and help lay the foundation for the tribe’s future development.
Coming from a later age, Han Cheng naturally knew the importance of mathematics. Once society reached a certain level of development, higher-level mathematics could play a crucial role.
Advanced and complicated math might not be helpful when buying vegetables, but there were countless other things in the world beyond just buying vegetables.
Han Cheng himself had struggled with math back in school, tearing his hair out over it, only to find little use for it later in his work. But he still never denied the importance of learning it.
Now that he had come to this world, he certainly wasn’t about to abandon it.
As the man who was hit on the head by an apple once said, it’s easier to pick fruit when standing on the shoulders of giants.
Compared to the tribe’s current stage, Han Cheng was undoubtedly that giant. If he could leave behind all this knowledge, then future generations, born on this foundation, would begin their lives already standing at the finish line that others might never reach in their whole lives.
From that point forward, they would always be able to go further and make the tribe stronger.
Of course, that was something that would happen many years down the road.
But even setting aside those distant prospects, the Green Sparrow Tribe already needed math right now.
For example: tallying up the harvested grain or keeping track of traded furs.
Or calculating: how much grain did the Green Sparrow Tribe need each year to feed its people? How long would it take to complete a road if different numbers of workers were assigned to build it?
As for the crops in the fields, when everyone worked together, how many days would it take to finish harvesting them?
All of these things required mathematical calculations to have a clear idea.
There would undoubtedly be errors, but the results would still be far more accurate than rough guesses.
If not for Han Cheng’s calculations this time, realizing that the oil yield was far too low, the oil still hidden within the oil cakes would have been completely wasted.
When Yuan announced “fifteen jin” and Han Cheng confirmed it with his own words, Second Senior Brother and the others were stunned.
Fifteen jin wasn’t as much as the thirty-five she had first claimed, but it was still no small amount.
After all, they had only pressed out thirty-five jin total this time, filling two jars.
Fifteen jin of oil would nearly fill another whole jar by itself!
“Divine… Divine Child, is there really that much oil left?”
Second Senior Brother asked haltingly, looking at Han Cheng.
Han Cheng nodded, confirming it once again.
Seeing this, Second Senior Brother, scratching his head, immediately picked up the bronze hammer to continue pounding at the stakes—only to be stopped by Han Cheng.
After thinking it over, Han Cheng had already figured out why the oil yield this time was so different from the last.
This time, they had put in far more tung nut powder—fully ten times more than before.
With so much pressed together, the elasticity increased, making it much harder to smash through.
In short, they had bitten off more than they could chew.
Blocked from striking, Second Senior Brother scratched his head in confusion. The shaman scratched his head too, as did Yuan, who had just calculated the extra fifteen jin of oil, and many others besides.
Everyone knew Second Senior Brother had the greatest strength in the tribe. If even he couldn’t manage to force out the oil, how could anyone else?
But Han Cheng had his reasons for stopping him. If Second Senior Brother’s strength had been enough, the oil would already have been forced out earlier. Smashing again with the hammer now would be a complete waste of effort.
“Divine Child, then what should we do?”
Everyone looked at Han Cheng with puzzled eyes. If even their strongest couldn’t handle the remaining tung oil, they honestly couldn’t think of a way.
“I have a method—we can still press it out!”
Human ability was limited. People couldn’t swim like fish, run as fast as horses, or soar in the sky like birds.
But because humans had advanced brains, they could create tools to solve the challenges they faced.
With intelligence and tools, people could reach the heavens, plumb the depths of the sea…
Once the body’s strength reached its limit, it was time to rely on tools.
This time, Han Cheng’s tool was simple: a battering ram, much like those used in temples to strike great bells.
Only the wooden beam for striking was much larger, longer, and heavier than in a temple, and its impact far greater.
“Thud!”
“Thud!”
Han Cheng grasped the rope tied to the ram, pulled it back, and then let it swing forward, adding his own force as it returned.
The massive ram, under his control, combined its own weight, its swinging momentum, and Han Cheng’s strength, and smashed fiercely into the wooden stake.
A crowd gathered around to watch.
They trusted in the tools created by the Divine Child, but at the same time, they found it hard to believe.
After all, Second Senior Brother, with all his immense strength and a bronze hammer, hadn’t been able to drive the stake further in. Now the Divine Child, not even known for his physical strength, claimed he could do it with this contraption?
Even with their deep respect for him, doubt lingered.
But when the heavy wooden ram struck under Han Cheng’s control, the spectators’ eyes widened. Their disbelief shattered in an instant, replaced with shock and astonishment.
With that single strike, the stake that even Second Senior Brother’s hammer couldn’t budge had sunk visibly into the press.
“Oil! Oil! More oil is coming out!”
As people still reeled from shock, someone suddenly cried out, pointing at the bottom of the simple oil press.
Everyone turned to look—and sure enough, where moments ago they had assumed nothing remained, oil was dripping again. The drops quickly turned into thin streams as the ram struck again and again.
So there really had been that much oil left inside! And suspending a log like that could really create such great force!
“Come, help me strike it!”
After pulling the ram a few more times on his own, Han Cheng beckoned to Second Senior Brother.
Following his lead, Second Senior Brother stood on the other side, and the two of them pulled back together, then pushed forward with force.
With the addition of the Second Senior Brother’s immense strength, the ram’s power was brought out even more fully.
Each crash drove the stake deeper, and more tung oil was squeezed out.
“Divine Child, this method is excellent!”
Looking at the result—over seventeen jin of tung oil—they were ecstatic, especially Second Senior Brother, who couldn’t stop praising it.
This way, not only could they press the oil completely, but it was also far less exhausting.
Even someone as strong as Second Senior Brother preferred saving effort when he could; no one wanted to work themselves into panting like a tired hunting dog.
Because of the success of the oil press and now this efficient and powerful ram, the Green Sparrow Tribe was overjoyed.
The lively youngsters especially loved hanging around, sneaking in chances to push the ram for fun.
Han Cheng, too, was delighted. On one hand, he had led the Green Sparrow Tribe to create something from nothing—another machine to serve their future. On the other hand, Yuan had indeed proven to have the mathematical talent he had hoped for.
That was the advantage of clever people: progress came quickly in tasks requiring thought.
After this large-scale pressing of tung oil, Han Cheng didn’t order more immediately. The oil they had already obtained was enough, and the rest of the nuts could wait until winter, when the tribe would be less busy.
After all this effort, autumn deepened. Around the tribe, the grass had darkened to a deep green, and in the mornings, cold dew clung to the blades, leaving the ground blanketed in white.
As people walked past, the grass blades swayed, sending beads of dew rolling down. The droplets clung to their feet, icy cold against the skin.
In the distant mountains, the forests had already turned into a patchwork of colors. Though not yet the full blaze of crimson across ten thousand hills, it was getting close.
Unknowingly, the deep autumn of the tenth year of the Green Sparrow Tribe had arrived.
Inside the courtyard, Han Cheng, wearing leather gloves, dipped a suit of rattan armor into a clay basin filled with tung oil. He flipped it back and forth several times until the armor was thoroughly soaked. Holding it above the basin, he waited for the excess oil to stop dripping before hanging the piece on a nearby rack.
On the rack, more than a dozen sets of rattan armor were already hung, each soaked in tung oil. Bathed in the late-autumn sunlight, they gleamed faintly, looking almost beautiful.
“Dong-dong-dong, dong-dong-dong…”
Little Pea, perched on the back of the panda Tuantuan as it ambled through the settlement, shook a rattle drum in his hands. He grinned widely, silly and happy, like a little fool.
The drum in his hands also glistened faintly, far brighter than its dull look from before. This, too, was thanks to being coated with several layers of tung oil.
Unlike the armor, however, the drum hadn’t been dipped into the oil basin. Instead, Bai Xue had taken some failed silk she’d woven and used it to wipe the drum with tung oil, making the surface smooth and polished, without leaving marks.
“Tok, tok, tok…”
That was the sound of a cane tapping against the stone path.
Following the rhythm of the sound, Shaman appeared in sight—one hand gripping the cane, the other holding a bunch of wild fruit.
But his gait was odd. Each step forward tilted his body unconsciously toward the side of the cane, and the cane itself swung out far, tapping frequently. It looked less like walking, more like he was showing off the cane on purpose.
This cane had been made long ago by Lame and Shaman at Han Cheng’s suggestion. But Shaman had always refused to use it, thinking that leaning on a cane would make him seem old and frail, undermining the image of his strong body. So it had been left aside, unused.
That was, until Han Cheng soaked it for days in mint juice, dried it thoroughly, and then polished it several times with a silk cloth dipped in tung oil. From then on, Shaman never walked without it—wherever he went, the cane went too.

Chapter 808: On Talent and the Importance of Mathematics