I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 832: Treasures on the Island
Chapter 832 – Treasures on the Island
After a round of preparations, the expedition team, consisting of four wooden rafts and thirty people, set off.
The bamboo poles struck the riverbank, bending under the heavy pressure.
As the poles gradually straightened, the heavy wooden rafts left the shore, creating irregular fan-shaped ripples as they moved toward the center of the lake.
After traveling some distance, the water deepened, making the bamboo poles ineffective. Those responsible for rowing switched to paddles, each stroke sliding the rafts steadily toward the island in the lake.
“Daddy! Daddy! Where are you going?”
Little Pea, standing on the shore, shouted toward Han Cheng, who was on the second raft, reluctant to let him go alone.
Beside him, Shaman reached out, holding one of Little Pea’s hands and stepping back, worried he might fall into the water.
Han Cheng, hearing Little Pea’s cries, twitched his face. “Daddy, huh? Could my son have come from the future, too?”
“Daddy’s going there!”
After joking to himself, Han Cheng smoothly replied, pointing toward the island in the lake.
“Stay here by the shore and wait for Daddy. I’ll check over there first. Once it’s safe, I’ll bring you to play!”
Han Cheng smiled as he spoke to Little Pea, then added, “Everyone else, stay back. Don’t get too close to the shore, or you might fall in!”
“Daddy! …”
Little Pea had turned into a chatterbox, shouting across the water at Han Cheng, who could only respond from the raft.
The scene reminded Han Cheng of Pan Changjiang’s skit “Crossing the River”.
“In front of Daddy is a winding river~ Son is on the shore…”
He almost sang the adapted tune aloud.
As Little Pea’s cries rang out, the paddles cut through the water, taking them farther from the shore and closer to the island.
From a distance, the rocks didn’t seem very tall, but up close, they reached at least four to five meters.
Between the rocks grew sparse, hardy grasses and some not-so-tall shrubs.
Shallow waters at the rock base had fine sand, scattered with grayish-brown shells and fish skeletons coated with mineral deposits.
Bare rocks were marked with patches of white bird droppings.
The south side was too rocky to land, so Han Cheng steered the rafts eastward around the island, gradually disappearing from the shore watchers’ view.
“Daddy!”
Little Pea climbed a rock and shouted toward the island, but received no reply, his voice tinged with a hint of tears.
The little one suddenly felt a mix of attachment and separation.
“Don’t worry, your daddy will be back soon.”
Shaman, holding Little Pea’s hand, smiled reassuringly. Though worried himself, he didn’t show it.
“Really?”
Little Pea blinked at Shaman.
“Of course. Come down; let’s wait on that slope. It’s higher.”
Shaman pointed to a nearby slope, coaxing Little Pea down. Holding his hand, they slowly walked together, turning to sit side by side facing the lake island.
By now, the rafts had rounded to the northern side of the island.
Unlike the steep southern rocks, the north was flat. Golden sandy beaches lined the edge, with long-legged herons strolling or standing still, waiting for small fish to swim by.
On the sand lay turtles of various sizes, black or yellow, basking in the sun.
The arrival of Han Cheng and his group disturbed the tranquility.
Herons took off lazily, and the sunbathing turtles displayed surprising speed, scrambling into the water, sometimes colliding with one another in the process. One flipped completely onto its back, struggling helplessly.
Han Cheng was amazed at the turtles’ speed, realizing the phrase “turtle pace” for humans was incredibly apt.
“Plop!”
Jumping from the raft onto the beach, Han Cheng observed the area before approaching the upside-down turtle.
Seeing him approach, the turtle retracted its limbs and head into its shell, finally calm.
“Three and a half years lying on the sand, waiting for the waves to help me flip over…”
The saying reflected patience and opportunity. This turtle was lucky: it didn’t wait three and a half years—Han Cheng flipped it instantly, though unfortunately, into his basket.
Moving inland, sand gave way to wild grass after about twenty meters. Pushing aside the grass with a bronze halberd, the ground gradually cleared, and tree roots showed traces of receding water.
Seven or eight meters further, no floating debris remained. Rainwater had once risen to this level after rivers fed into the lake.
Han Cheng surveyed the island, pointing west: “Let’s check over there.”
Protected by the tribe’s rattan shields, they returned to the beach and walked west along the open sand, minimizing risk.
Third Senior Brother, with bow and arrow, scanned the surroundings, ready to strike at any threat.
Herons scattered, turtles dived, observing the newcomers warily.
The northern side of the island was more than twice as broad as the southern, and after three to four li (roughly 1.5–2 km), they reached the island’s edge.
Ahead, a dense growth of unknown plants blocked the path. Han Cheng didn’t force his way but led the group inward to circumvent the vegetation.
After several steps, Han Cheng paused, sniffing. A familiar scent teased him, though he couldn’t immediately place it. He pulled a plant close to his nose and inhaled deeply.
Those following him became excited. Having seen Han Cheng react this way before, they knew he had likely discovered something new and valuable for the tribe. If edible, even better.
After a few moments, Han Cheng let go of the bent plant, which sprang back upright with a rustling sound.
Shaking his head, he knew the scent wasn’t from these plants. Still, the familiar fragrance lingered.
Unable to wait, he called, “Let’s go this way!”
The group followed eagerly. After roughly 20–30 meters through dense growth, they reached its edge.
“What is this?!”
Stepping into the open, Han Cheng froze, eyes wide. The group followed his gaze toward the lake.
In the shallow water near the dense plants grew another type of vegetation with enormous, round leaves—some as large as the cooking pots in the tribe.
When the wind blew, the leaves flipped, revealing pale undersides. Occasionally, a single stalk bore a peach-shaped bud, white with hints of pink, emitting a delicate fragrance in the breeze.
“What is this? Could it be… delicious?”
Many began salivating at the sight of these unfamiliar plants.
“Ha ha ha…!”
Han Cheng laughed, then strode toward the island’s edge. Those with spiked rattan shields hurried to follow, eager to learn from him.
Approaching the water, the scent grew stronger.
“Splash!”
Fish, disturbed by the newcomers, dove beneath the surface, sending droplets onto floating leaves, forming sparkling beads like pearls.
Han Cheng beamed. Lotus roots, which he had long dreamed of but had eluded him, were now abundantly available and in prime condition.
Another edible vegetable for the tribe, especially valuable in the scarce winter months.
“Divine Child, what’s this?”
Finally, someone asked, curiosity brimming.
“This is lotus, also called ‘ou’ or ‘he’, and sometimes ‘furong’,” Han Cheng replied, smiling.
The names confused the tribe, who were used to the simpler renaming of “Milk Tea Girl” to “Bai Xue.”
“This is a great thing—delicious!”
Hearing this, the tribe, all avid eaters, grew excited.
“Rustle~”
Before Han Cheng finished, some tore lotus leaves to taste. Naturally, the leaves weren’t delicious—they were usually used for lining pots or making tea. Only fish or goats might nibble them fresh.
“Good?”
Han Cheng asked, trying not to laugh.
“No… not good,” someone replied, still chewing, looking dazed.
“Of course! The leaves aren’t meant to be eaten. Wait until I explain before you act.”
The chewers bowed their heads, embarrassed, and two even swallowed the leaves. Han Cheng both laughed and scolded them with a gentle kick, instructing those who hadn’t swallowed to spit theirs out.
Though chastised, they relaxed, smiling again.
“The tasty part is the white, tender rhizomes under the water. Slice and boil, dice into stews, or stuff with meat and deep-fry into lotus root pockets. The fried batter is golden, the meat and lotus cooked inside—bite in, and the flavors mix perfectly…”
After teasing the group with descriptions of the many ways to eat lotus root, everyone salivated, eyes shining at the abundance of rhizomes before them.
“Divine Child, let’s dig them! Then we can make lotus root pockets!”
Third Senior Brother wiped his mouth, eager to taste the fried lotus root pockets. Others chimed in enthusiastically.
Han Cheng wiped his own mouth, craving the dish, but cursed the lack of flour.
The tribe, disappointed, realized they couldn’t make the pockets yet. Where could they find wheat?
Everyone agreed that if they found a wheat source, they would fetch it, no matter how far.
After expressing their longing, Han Cheng threw stones into the lotus patch and struck the water with sticks. Finding no response, he and others removed their shoes to start digging lotus roots in the shallow water.
The rafts’ landing had already trampled much of the patch, snapping stems like wild pigs had rooted it.
An avid lotus lover might have been appalled, but Han Cheng reveled in it. He loved both the lotus leaves and the edible rhizomes.
Stepping in the mud, he quickly located lotus roots. Instead of bending to grab each root by hand, he stepped along the rhizome, loosening the surrounding mud.
Once loosened, a single root could be pulled easily, often revealing more rhizomes entangled below.
This method maximized efficiency by stomping a small area, allowing multiple roots to be harvested.
The rhizomes had grown well. Though early summer and flowers were budding, the roots were mature.
Barefoot, Han Cheng stomped the soft mud, following the rhizomes, uncovering and collecting the prized lotus roots.
Chapter 832: Treasures on the Island
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