I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 841: Dad Doesn’t Care, Handle It Yourself
Chapter 841 – Dad Doesn’t Care, Handle It Yourself
A ray of sunlight pierced through the dark clouds, like a peerless, sharp sword stabbing down from the sky, unmatched across the land.
Before long, more sunlight broke through the clouds, shredding the dark sky into fragments. A sun appeared behind the clouds.
Soon, the gloomy sky that had persisted for many days completely cleared.
“#￥%@!”
A man with frostbitten cheeks noticed the change in light. Upon seeing this, he couldn’t help but shout excitedly.
The entire tribe was immediately stirred.
Wrapped in animal skins, those gathered around the fire all cheered and ran toward the cave’s entrance.
As the long-lost sun emerged in the sky, the clouds finally dissipated, and sunlight reflected off the snow, shining even brighter, the people emerging from the cave jumped and danced for joy. Some even prostrated themselves toward the sun, tears streaming down their faces.
The sun had finally come out! They had seen it again!
The bitter cold that had tormented them would now be driven away—they no longer had to endure such suffering.
Most of these people had frostbite on their faces, hands, and feet; even those without frostbite had cracked, scabbed skin that would bleed painfully if touched.
In previous winters, they suffered from cold as well, but never as severely as this year.
Partly because this year was colder than usual, and partly because heavy snow fell before they had stored enough food.
At first, they had to brave the wind and snow to gather leftover fruit from their usual foraging grounds and bring it back to the tribe.
This caused them immense suffering.
One tribe member even lost one ear and two toes, wailing in pain inside the cave.
Because of this, after several days of risking frostbite and exhaustion to gather food, the activity had to stop.
If they continued, most would freeze to death before the cave’s stored food ran out.
Moreover, the early snowfall meant the tribe’s food stores were far less than in previous years.
Even including the fruit they had gathered in the snow, it still wasn’t enough.
Except for the immature children, everyone else was apprehensive about the shortage of food.
In this situation, seeing the sun come out and the sky clear brought immense joy.
Another reason for their happiness was that the early snow could now melt under the sunlight, warming the weather and allowing them to store more fruit in preparation for the cold season.
As they gathered more food, the weather would cool again.
Just as they hoped, after two consecutive days of sunlight, the snow began to melt, making them even more jubilant.
The next day, the tribe’s leader took some strong members, wrapped in thick animal skins, to the usual foraging grounds. Using sticks, they dug through partially melted snow to find fallen fruit.
Even under sunny skies, the temperature remained low—sometimes even lower than on overcast days.
This was partly because melting ice and evaporating water absorbed heat, and partly because the previous clouds acted like a blanket, trapping warmth.
Though the air was cold, direct sunlight made them feel warm.
The brilliant sunlight alone made their hearts feel warm.
Those leaving the cave to gather food now felt much warmer than before.
As the weather warmed and some food was brought back to the cave, those who had been desperate now felt hope.
They were confident that the weather would remain mild for a while.
They did not realize that the time that should have belonged to autumn had been consumed by earlier cold, and by the regular calendar, it was already winter.
Their joy lasted only a few days before another heavy snowfall crushed it.
Those who had ventured far to gather food were frozen to death outside.
Companions did not abandon them—they trudged through snow and cold to drag the frozen bodies back.
There was no funeral; the dead were burned.
The new snowfall was even heavier than usual, and temperatures dropped further.
In some tribes, each morning one or two people would rise with strange smiles—and never get up again…
Cold, hunger, and death enveloped them like oppressive clouds.
Further south, the Green Sparrow Tribe experienced a period of cold before heavy snow covered the land.
Distant mountains, nearby trees, and surrounding fields were blanketed in white.
Beneath this snow, the tribe seemed quiet, and most people became somewhat lazy.
Since the arrival of the Divine Child, winter was no longer a time of complete idleness. Even in winter, there were tasks to do, though it remained more leisurely than other seasons—a feeling deeply felt in both body and mind.
Of course, the peacefulness also depended on children not yet engaging in snowball fights.
If they did, snowball battles would immediately erase all tranquility.
On the eastern side of the Green Sparrow Tribe, about thirty li from the bamboo forest, a small cleared patch of land had been prepared.
Scattered on the ground were some dry millet grains, with a large woven bamboo sieve propped at an angle over them.
A rope tied to the base of the stick holding the sieve ran into the bamboo forest.
At a low-lying area near the forest’s edge—a trench-like depression—the rope ended.
Han Cheng squatted in the depression, holding the rope.
To his left crouched Fu Jiang, taller than when standing; to his right stood Little Pea, just showing his head; on Little Pea’s other side was the round, plump panda Tuan Tuan.
The two humans, the dog, and the panda formed a row, all staring at the propped sieve, remaining silent.
Nearby birds hopped and chirped cautiously, assessing their surroundings.
Facing this sudden bounty, most birds were wary, not daring to eat immediately.
The saying “Man dies for wealth, bird dies for food” proved true—eventually, the birds could not resist the food.
After careful observation, they approached the center of the sieve to eat.
“Dad, dad.”
Little Pea whispered to Han Cheng, signaling to pull the rope.
“Wait a bit—the two large doves haven’t gone under yet,” Han Cheng whispered back.
Not all the birds had moved to the center; pulling too early would scare them away, reducing the catch.
After waiting, the birds finally relaxed and gathered in the center, including the two doves.
“Now you can pull.”
Han Cheng whispered to Little Pea.
He yanked the rope, and the supporting stick fell. The sieve, weighted with two bricks on top, snapped down onto the birds.
Startled, some birds near the edges flew away, while those in the center were trapped, fluttering in panic.
“Wah wah~!”
“Woo woo~!”
Little Pea squealed and rushed forward with Fu Jiang and Tuan Tuan.
Han Cheng followed with a large bag.
He didn’t immediately lift the sieve. Instead, he built a 30-cm-high brick wall around it, leaving a 20-cm-wide opening and placing the bag over it.
Then he lifted the sieve from this opening. Some scared birds immediately flew into the bag. Others followed quickly, pressured by the shouting and tapping from the trio.
Once all the birds were inside, Han Cheng tied the bag shut.
The haul was substantial—over a dozen birds, including the two doves—enough for a hearty meal for the tribe.
Han Cheng favored the doves most: plump, meaty, and flavorful, whether roasted or boiled.
His preferred method was to boil them, shred the meat, and mix it with the broth to serve over noodles.
Birds were abundant in this primitive era; humans were more precious than many species.
The Green Sparrow Tribe revered the green sparrow as a totem, but they were not friendly to the wild birds that raided crops.
The bag was tied to Fu Jiang’s back, and he ran back to the tribe through the snow.
After Fu Jiang left, Han Cheng and Little Pea reset the trap, scattering millet and propping the sieve.
Once they hid in the bamboo forest again, Fu Jiang returned from the tribe.
Han Cheng took back the empty bag and patted Fu Jiang’s head.
“Son, this time you pull.”
Han Cheng handed the rope to Little Pea, who took it with a mix of nervousness and excitement.
After the previous attempt, no birds appeared immediately.
Gradually, birds returned, landing on the sieve’s edges.
“Dad, should I pull?”
Little Pea asked, looking nervous.
“Handle it yourself. Pull when you think it’s ready; wait if not.”
Han Cheng left the decision to Little Pea.
Little Pea hesitated, looked at the birds, then glanced at his father for help.
Han Cheng patted his head and whispered, “You handle it yourself. Dad doesn’t care.”
Unable to get an answer from his father, Little Pea focused on the sieve and the surrounding birds.
After observing, he pulled the rope.
The stick fell, and the weighted sieve snapped down.
Almost simultaneously, birds fluttered and flew away.
The small group—two humans, a dog, and a panda—ran toward the sieve.
Little Pea, heart pounding, peeked through the sieve.
Only one small bird had been trapped; the rest flew away—a vast difference from the previous attempt.
“Dad~”
Like before, they transferred the trapped bird into the bag. Little Pea looked at Han Cheng, both upset and anxious.
“It’s okay. This is your first time. When I first did this, I didn’t catch a single bird. You’ve already done better than I did.”
Han Cheng smiled and reassured his son.
The father and son then tidied the area and hid in the bamboo forest again.
“Dad.”
Little Pea handed the rope to Han Cheng, feeling discouraged by the previous attempt.
Han Cheng shook his head, smiling: “Keep pulling. You did well before; try again.”
Little Pea gripped the rope, more anxious than before.
“Think about why you caught only one bird last time,” Han Cheng said.
Little Pea touched his head, blinking.
“I… I pulled too early,” he admitted.
“What should you do this time?”
“Later… pull later,” Little Pea said uncertainly.
“Good. Do as you think,” Han Cheng affirmed.
At this age, children already have some understanding, so Han Cheng used this opportunity to teach him patience and judgment.
As calm returned, more birds gradually flew in.
After a while, about eight or nine birds were under the sieve, near the center. Around the edges, a dozen or so birds hovered.
Han Cheng felt it was ready, but Little Pea didn’t pull.
He was learning from the lesson of pulling too early, so Han Cheng didn’t urge him.
Little Pea’s face was tense, palms sweaty, eyes fixed on the sieve, waiting for the remaining birds to approach.
But the birds did not cooperate.
Eventually, the millet under the sieve ran out, and only three birds remained.
“Pff!”
Unable to wait any longer, Little Pea finally pulled the rope…
Chapter 841: Dad Doesn’t Care, Handle It Yourself
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