I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 819: God-Level Luxury—Fuling Pickled Mustard
Chapter 819: God-Level Luxury—Fuling Pickled Mustard
With the return of the people from the neighboring Wind Tribe, cheers erupted from within the tribe’s caves, filling the place with joy.
When some of the returning members from the Green Sparrow Tribe boldly expressed their intention to join the Green Sparrow Tribe—and even invited the rest of the tribe to join the kind Green Sparrow Tribe—the old primitive man of the Wind Tribe, who had been listening intently, bent down and placed his hand on a shoe. He had prepared to lend his shoe to the Wind Tribe members if anything went wrong.
However, what happened next left the old primitive man with some regret.
Upon hearing the news from the returning members, the Wind Tribe chief reacted as strongly as the chief of the Wind Tribe had. Still, in a very different way, one expressed anger with rolling eyes, while the other was filled with extreme joy, tightly gripping the speaker’s hand, repeatedly confirming the news for fear it might be false.
Once they confirmed the news was trustworthy, the Wind Tribe chief led the tribe in a round of jubilant cheering.
The chief did not doubt at all about the kindness and wealth of the Green Sparrow Tribe as described by the returning members.
Even ignoring their attire, the food and salt they brought back alone were enough to convince them.
Especially when they heard about things in the Green Sparrow Tribe that could keep one warm enough to sweat even in such weather, those left behind in the caves grew even more eager to join the Green Sparrow Tribe.
After all, each of them had suffered enough from poorly sealed cave entrances and shivering through nights while huddled around the fire.
They could not expect three meals of delicious food a day; even just the kind of warmth the returning tribe members described would suffice.
Seeing things go so smoothly, the ever-prepared old primitive man could only regretfully put on the half-removed shoe.
Once it was confirmed that following the Green Sparrow Tribe trade team would prevent harm from the icy landscape—and nobody would freeze to death—the Wind Tribe members eagerly began packing.
There was no sadness, only joy. They wanted nothing more than to leave their drafty, ever-windy cave.
In reality, there was little to pack. Mostly, they moved the food and salt that the returning Green Sparrow Tribe members had earned onto sleds outside.
As for the Wind Tribe’s own property, it was pitifully little.
Earlier, when coming from the main Green Sparrow Tribe, the old primitive man had told Han Cheng he wanted to bring everyone from the Wind Tribe to the Green Sparrow Tribe for winter. This meant the trade team had prepared thoroughly for the journey.
In addition to ample food, they also brought many tanned furs.
Early the next morning, these bundles of fur were moved into the Wind Tribe caves, and the tribe members removed their layered animal hides to replace them with the tanned furs.
Untanned hides differed significantly from tanned ones.
Untanned hides were stiff, poorly fitted, and offered limited warmth.
Tanned hides, in contrast, fully realized their potential to resist the cold.
At first, the Wind Tribe members didn’t understand why they were asked to replace their hides with the trade team’s. How could two hides be so different?
But once they wrapped themselves in the tanned furs, all doubt vanished.
The difference was striking. Compared to the Green Sparrow Tribe’s furs, their original hides could be discarded.
Wrapped in the soft furs, the Wind Tribe members felt a warm glow all over. Any previous concerns about traveling through snow disappeared.
Some even felt they didn’t need anything else; just these furs gave them the courage to move through the frozen wilderness.
They were given only the furs, not clothing, for a reason: the Green Sparrow Tribe couldn’t spare enough garments for everyone at once, so tanned furs sufficed temporarily.
After the preparations and everyone had enjoyed a hearty bowl of hot soup, the now-larger group set off along the path they had left behind.
Those who had stayed behind in the caves looked on wide-eyed, amazed at everything.
Especially the sleds, pulled by deer or unfamiliar animals, which left them in awe.
Before riding the sleds, they never imagined such a mode of travel existed.
The kind Green Sparrow Tribe was remarkably clever and magical!
Hearing that all these marvels were made under the guidance of the wise Divine Child, Han Cheng’s tall, intelligent, and majestic image had already firmly taken root in the minds of those who had never visited the Green Sparrow Tribe.
The group continued to the Wind Tribe’s residential area.
The Wind Tribe’s treatment mirrored that of the neighboring Wind Tribe members: they removed their old furs, replaced them with tanned furs, and loaded their modest belongings onto the Green Sparrow Tribe sleds, following the team through the snow.
The young, weak, and those carrying children were placed on the sleds, spared from trudging through the snow themselves.
This arrangement erased all worries about the harsh treatment of the weak by the Green Sparrow Tribe.
After witnessing snow houses and drinking the warming liquor, the Wind Tribe members—experiencing migration for the first time—fully relaxed, eagerly anticipating the Green Sparrow Tribe and the new life ahead.
Even the Wind Tribe chief, clad in tanned furs, trudged through the snow with the group.
His swollen face had not yet healed, and he still resisted joining the Green Sparrow Tribe. However, upon seeing the old primitive man’s shoes, he suppressed his reluctance and followed obediently toward what he considered the unkind Green Sparrow Tribe.
Snow fell over the Green Sparrow Tribe, bringing a sense of serenity and comfort, with less bustle than before.
Though the tribe had been stirred to excitement during the previous sports events, the climate limited their activities, leaving a leisurely atmosphere.
In these leisurely times, two activities were most satisfying:
First, sleeping peacefully without concern, waking naturally.
Second, calmly preparing and slowly enjoying food.
Winter called for hot pot: snow outside, cold wind cutting, while inside, warmth reigned.
Orange flames danced under the stove, broth bubbled in a clay pot, and white tofu, yellow bean sprouts, and green cabbage swirled gently.
Steam rose, filling the room, as people sat around the table, sweating slightly while eating.
“If only we had some Fuling pickled mustard, it would be even better—refreshing and cutting the richness.”
Han Cheng wiped his brow and sucked on his numbed lips from the peppercorns, slightly regretful.
“Divine Child, then just make some to eat…”
Shaman, tasting a long-cooked tofu, looked at Han Cheng with anticipation, noticing his longing.
Things that excited the Divine Child so were rare delicacies; the Shaman wanted to follow him to taste this extraordinary food.
The eldest senior brother and other Green Sparrow Tribe leaders also looked at the Divine Child expectantly.
But this time, disappointment was inevitable.
Han Cheng chewed a slice of lamb, sighing regretfully, “We can’t afford it. Fuling pickled mustard is like tea eggs—scarce and luxurious. Our tribe can’t afford it.”
“Gasp—!”
The room filled with sharp intakes of breath.
Shaman, eldest senior brother, and others were stunned, forgetting to chew. Second Senior Brother even dropped his chopsticks in shock.
It wasn’t overreacting—the news was genuinely astonishing.
Tea eggs were already known as god-level delicacies, costing more than two pigs and a sheep in the tribe.
Now, Han Cheng claimed Fuling pickled mustard was on the same level, a comparable luxury—how could they not be shocked?
After a moment, Shaman closed his mouth and silently ate, shoving lamb rolls, tofu, and fried tofu strips in quickly.
He decided to let food fill his mouth, keeping him from speaking again.
The others, recovering from shock, imitated Shaman and ate silently.
Even Second Senior Brother, usually fond of eating, abandoned the thought of tasting Fuling pickled mustard.
The previously lively room fell silent, everyone overwhelmed by the Divine Child’s words, desperately shoving lamb rolls into their mouths to calm themselves.
Han Cheng, after swallowing, sighed thinking of Fuling pickled mustard costing one yuan a pack—he honestly couldn’t afford it, having no money on him.
After this Green Sparrow Tribe high-level meal, Fuling’s pickled mustard’s name spread among the tribe.
Once known as a delicacy on par with tea eggs, the tribe regarded it as a symbol of the utmost luxury, even surpassing tea eggs.
“Divine Child! Divine Child!”
Han Cheng, lying on the edge of the kang with a small rattle in hand, was playing with his chubby daughter when he heard urgent shouting and hurried footsteps outside.
Startled, he handed the rattle to Little Pea and hurried to the door.
Panting, the runner arrived—Cao Qing, now one of the tribe’s main cooks.
Did she run here in a panic because the kitchen was on fire? Han Cheng looked toward the dining hall—quiet as ever, no smoke.
Relieved, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I… tofu… eat…” Cao Qing stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.
Unable to explain further, she gestured for Han Cheng to follow her to the kitchen.
He complied, curious about what could cause such commotion.
“Divine… Divine Child, here!”
Cao Qing pointed to something beside the kitchen.
Han Cheng followed her finger, and upon seeing it clearly, his eyes widened.
He rushed over, squatted, and scrutinized the object. After a moment, he tore off a small piece of the tangled mass and tasted it slowly.
Cao Qing was shocked.
The tribe had never seen such a thing. What if it were poisonous?
Recalling how Da Jiao was once poisoned by tung oil fruit in autumn and saved with dung scoops, she calmed down, deciding she would intervene if Divine Child showed any signs of poisoning.
Her eyes remained glued to him, not daring to blink.
“Ha ha ha! Excellent, Cao Qing!”
After tasting the unfamiliar item, Han Cheng, previously frozen in place, suddenly leapt up, laughing and praising her.
In his excitement, he even playfully punched her chest.
Cao Qing, ready to call for help, froze in surprise—was he really fine?
Han Cheng, realizing his behavior, laughed awkwardly and continued excitedly: “Cao Qing, this is an excellent new ingredient! How did you discover it?!”
No wonder he was so excited. The mass she had carelessly hung on a branch as firewood was actually a superb ingredient—tofu skin.
Tofu skin was indeed excellent, whether for braising meat, making soup, or adding to hot pot—it was delicious.
Han Cheng knew of tofu skin and that it was made from soy milk, but despite many attempts, he had never succeeded in making it.
What he had abandoned as impossible, Cao Qing had discovered accidentally.
Though the tree-hung tofu skins looked shabby compared to neatly pressed ones he knew, they were undeniably tofu skins.
Cao Qing, excited by Han Cheng’s attention, eagerly explained how she had discovered them.
From her account, Han Cheng understood the whole story.
It was simple.
Today, some tribe members were making tofu. Cao Qing and another person had boiled filtered soy milk, placing it in a large vat to set with coagulant, then scooped the curd into square tofu molds.
Coincidentally, after one vat of soy milk was ready, the person responsible for setting it urgently had to rush to the toilet.
The kitchen was left with only Cao Qing, who couldn’t manage everything alone.
While tending the fire and preparing brine, she found a thin film had formed on the surface of the soy milk in the vat.
Usually, a thin film would be ignored when adding coagulant, but this time, the film had ash on it from burning large-leafed grass stems.
Previously careful to avoid such fuel, she had overlooked it in the rush.
Unable to ignore the ash-covered film, she lifted it off and set it aside.
After completing all tasks, she noticed that the discarded film had hardened, resembling the tribe’s paper.
This astonishing transformation surprised her, prompting her to run immediately to find the Divine Child.
Understanding the story, Han Cheng felt both delighted and helpless.
Delighted because the tribe now had a new food; helpless because his own previous attempts at tofu skin had been misled…
Chapter 819: God-Level Luxury—Fuling Pickled Mustard
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