I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 845: Son, Don’t Cry
Chapter 845 – Son, Don’t Cry
Watching Eldest Senior Brother sprint away like the wind with his backpack, disappearing in an instant, everyone in the room exchanged bewildered glances. For a moment, none of them could understand what kind of magical maneuver Eldest Senior Brother had just performed.
Han Cheng sniffled. Luckily, he didn’t run a backpack shop—if he did, encountering such a situation, he might have had to chase someone out with a knife.
While everyone was still puzzled, the sound of running footsteps came from outside again. Moments later, Eldest Senior Brother reappeared in their sight.
This time, however, he had his usual vine shield in hand.
“Divine Child, look! I can carry my backpack and still use the vine shield!”
The Eldest Senior Brother waved the shield outside the door while keeping the backpack on his shoulders, his face full of joy and excitement. He held the shield like a treasured toy, grinning like a child delighted with a new plaything.
Seeing this, Shaman and the others couldn’t help but smile widely. They grew even fonder of the backpack Han Cheng had created.
A divine child was indeed a divine child. Just by modifying an ordinary animal-skin pouch, it had instantly become convenient.
Not only was it light to carry, but it also freed both hands for other tasks—a benefit they had never considered before.
Han Cheng looked at Eldest Senior Brother, backpack on and vine shield in hand, dancing around, and he too smiled broadly.
But when he noticed the backpack bouncing loosely with Eldest Senior Brother’s movements, his smile faded slightly.
“Eldest Senior Brother, take the backpack off first. Some areas aren’t fully finished yet. We need to adjust it so it becomes even more useful.”
Han Cheng said this with a smile.
At his words, everyone, including Shaman and Yuan, was momentarily stunned.
Especially Shaman, who had just tried the backpack, and Eldest Senior Brother, who was dancing with it—both were bewildered.
They had personally experienced how functional the backpack was: far more comfortable and lighter than carrying by hand, cradling, or hoisting. The advantages were obvious.
Yet now, the Divine Child was telling them the backpack could still be improved, made even better. How could they not be astonished?
A divine child was always high in standards, as usual.
After their initial shock, everyone genuinely admired him.
Han Cheng took the backpack Eldest Senior Brother had set down and removed all its contents.
After scrutinizing it, he pointed to the upper and lower parts of the bag, instructing Bai Xue to sew two sets of straps symmetrically in those positions.
Once Bai Xue understood, she immediately set to work. It didn’t take long before the two sets of straps were sewn onto the backpack exactly as Han Cheng had requested.
Han Cheng repacked the items, slung the backpack onto his shoulders, and fastened the top and bottom sets of straps.
The upper set was near the upper chest, the lower around the abdomen.
Once strapped in, the backpack felt much more comfortable.
Han Cheng tested it, smiled with satisfaction, then unfastened it and handed it to Shaman.
After helping Shaman put it on and fastening the two sets of straps, Shaman immediately felt the benefit of the improvement.
The backpack now clung more snugly, making it easier to carry without burdening the shoulders.
Shaman tried it for a while, then removed it and handed it to Eldest Senior Brother, knowing he would be even more delighted by the improvement.
Sure enough, when Eldest Senior Brother wore the modified backpack and moved slightly, his eyes lit up.
He grabbed the vine shield and began waving it excitedly. With the improved backpack, he found it even more practical than before, immediately abandoning any previous notions of using the older design.
Yes, not only women can be fickle—men can be as well.
After the backpack’s tremendous success and unanimous praise, Han Cheng gathered skilled people from the tribe to learn from Bai Xue and produce more.
Rather than one person making the entire backpack, tasks were divided among several people in a production-line approach—each responsible for a step.
The concept of the production line existed as early as the Qin Dynasty. But after the dynasty’s fall, many inheritors of technical knowledge suffered, and much expertise was lost.
Under the Western Han, some survived, but with the rise of Confucian dominance under Emperor Shaman, schools like Mohism and Huang-Lao declined. Many expert artisans were marginalized, and valuable techniques were lost to history.
Han Cheng felt this deeply. It was precisely this regret that made him cherish and preserve technical knowledge in the Green Sparrow Tribe.
Important tribal innovations were recorded on both paper and clay tablets to ensure survival across generations.
He thought of the past, like Tan Sitong and Liang Qichao retrieving Gongyang School teachings to arm themselves—even if they ultimately failed, their fighting spirit inspired generations.
With the women working, thirty-five full leather travel backpacks were completed.
Those not crafting were busy elsewhere: pounding rice in preparation for the southward journey, sewing clothes, sharpening tools, preparing tofu and bean products, and carefully drying herbs like bupleurum root and fish mint—items to be taken on the journey.
Shaman could not travel south this time, so he contributed silently, ensuring the tribe would face fewer difficulties.
Han Cheng continued planning contingencies, sharing feasible solutions with the tribe to prepare them.
Finally, the thirty-five backpacks were ready. Han Cheng nodded with satisfaction. With these, their upcoming expedition would be much easier.
He praised Bai Xue and the others for their work.
“Ha ha!”
Alone in the room, Han Cheng couldn’t help but laugh.
He thought of another essential travel item: leg bindings.
With the backpack and leg bindings, he could cross snow, barren grasslands, and complete long marches, creating a team of iron will—the foundation of a revitalized people.
Leg bindings reduced fatigue, protected calves, and prevented injuries from thorns or insects.
Excited, Han Cheng immediately made bindings. Using hemp cloth, he cut strips about ten centimeters wide and experimented on his legs.
Initially, he wrapped tightly from ankle to knee, causing swelling and discomfort. Realizing it was too tight, he adjusted to a more comfortable fit.
Testing his mobility, he confirmed the bindings worked: calves stayed supported, and long marches became far easier.
Following this, thirty-six sets of leg bindings were produced: two for Shaman and Eldest Senior Brother to try, and thirty-four for those traveling south in spring.
Han Cheng would personally lead the expedition south—critical for the tribe’s future.
Once everyone had fastened their bindings, donned vine armor, backpacks, and vine helmets, and taken up their weapons, the thirty-five-person team was ready.
Han Cheng patted Bai Xue’s head silently, then took little Xing’er and Little Pea into his arms, giving kisses and forehead touches.
Xing’er, too young to understand, was unaffected, but Little Pea sensed something and felt sad.
“Take care of your mother and sister at home. Father will return soon with treats. You’re a little man now, don’t cry.”
Han Cheng handed Xing’er back to Bai Xue, wiped away Little Pea’s tears, and comforted him.
Seeing his son’s tears touched him deeply, tempting him to stay home—but he suppressed the thought. The mission had to be done.
Growing up, one longs for freedom, only to discover adulthood brings responsibilities and unavoidable tasks.
He kissed Little Pea, bade farewell to Shaman, Eldest Senior Brother, and others, then set off with the group.
The Green Sparrow flag fluttered in the spring wind. Thirty-five people, carrying backpacks, leading two donkeys and eight deer, moved eastward briefly before turning south, gradually disappearing.
Little Pea wiped his eyes, watched the departing group, and stopped crying. His small face tensed, fists clenched.
In that moment, the little boy seemed to have grown up, becoming more sensible.
Growth often comes with pain, a sensation one must learn to endure on one’s own.
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Chapter 845: Son, Don’t Cry
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