I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 864: Rice Dreams
Chapter 864 – Rice Dreams
“Divine Child, let’s build houses here!”
The next morning, the sun had already risen in the east, but its light had not yet reached Han Cheng’s temporary camp. The reason was that the eastern mountain peaks blocked the sun.
Here was far better than before. Previously, when Han Cheng and the others had traveled through the mountains and forests, they often had to wait until noon before seeing the sun.
And it wouldn’t be long before the already mature sun would again sink behind the mountains.
Those who had gone to bed early last night, aside from the six who took turns keeping watch, were full of energy.
Part of this was due to a good night’s sleep; another part was that joy lifts the spirit.
After washing and eating breakfast, someone brought up the topic of building houses and courtyards.
Han Cheng had already explained the purpose of their journey.
On the one hand, they were looking for a place for the tribe to rest; on the other hand, if time allowed, they could begin to establish some basic infrastructure here.
For example, houses where everyone could rest initially, and ideally, a small area of farmland to plant some crops.
Since experiencing the stability farming brought, the tribe members had become increasingly fascinated with agriculture and house construction, believing this was the proper way to live.
Therefore, they were highly enthusiastic about Han Cheng’s instructions.
Moreover, having been away from the tribe for a long time and finally finding a suitable location, they naturally wanted to develop it quickly and then return to share the good news with everyone.
“You’re not tired?”
Han Cheng looked at the energetic group and asked.
“No!”
Everyone responded, rubbing their hands and looking eager.
“Even if you’re not tired, we can’t start building immediately. We first need to understand this area thoroughly before constructing any houses.”
Han Cheng smiled at the group.
Building houses had always been a significant undertaking. Even now, it required careful planning, primarily since he intended this to become a branch of the tribe.
Once construction began, it would be a massive project, and choosing the correct location was crucial.
Otherwise, if they impulsively started building and later encountered problems, relocating would be troublesome.
So it was necessary to study the area and consider all factors before making a choice.
Often, choosing the right direction was more important than blindly working hard.
After hearing Han Cheng, everyone agreed with him.
Han Cheng had initially planned to rest here for at least two or three days, but encountering a group so eager to contribute made it impossible. Even if he wanted to be lazy, he could not.
Resigned, Han Cheng issued orders for the group to pack up and follow a winding stream southward.
While moving, he maintained the demeanor of a king inspecting the mountains, occasionally striking the copper gong he carried, producing loud “clang clang” sounds.
Han Cheng’s gaze focused on the river and nearby water sources, searching more attentively than he had when previously seeking southern plants, his heart burning with anticipation.
This was also why he led the group along the river.
Following the river ensured the new branch settlement would have access to water.
It also increased the chances of finding the ideal spot to establish the branch.
But most importantly, Han Cheng’s anticipation was for rice!
Based on what he knew about early humans, millet—the primary crop currently grown by the Green Sparrow Tribe—and rice were the two earliest and most important staple crops for northern and southern peoples.
Millet only lost prominence in the north after wheat became widely milled into flour.
Rice, however, had always been the main crop in the South.
With scientific advancements over the ages, rice cultivation expanded northward into fertile black soil.
For such an important staple, Han Cheng’s anticipation was natural.
Although he was a northerner by birth, primarily eating wheat-based foods like steamed buns three times a day, he also enjoyed rice—especially rice fried with Lao Gan Ma sauce, to the point of setting aside buns without hesitation.
In a tribe with only millet and no wheat, rice became even more desirable.
If rice could be found and cultivated here, it would provide a staple crop with yields equal to or surpassing those of millet, and its taste would be superior.
Rice could also diversify meals and safeguard against crop failure. Even if millet harvests failed due to natural disasters, rice would mitigate the impact on the tribe.
Han Cheng didn’t know whether archaeological finds in this fertile land had preserved ancient rice straw or chaff, but he could dream. After all, one must have dreams—even if only a chance they might come true.
With this dream in mind, Han Cheng scrutinized riverside vegetation, eager for a miracle.
As the group followed the winding river, moving farther from their entry point, the terrain gradually flattened and the view broadened.
There were occasional rises, but the land was mostly flat, far more so than the previous rugged mountains and gorges they had crossed.
Dusk fell again, and the Green Sparrow Tribe set up camp, smoke rising lazily. The scene was tranquil and comforting.
Han Cheng blinked his tired eyes, observing occasional fish leaping or ripples spreading across the water. He sniffled slightly, emotional.
Despite a full day of searching, no rice was in sight.
Although he knew finding rice might require long-term effort, a sense of disappointment lingered.
Much of it stemmed from the importance he placed on the goal.
Because it was important, it carried heavy expectations, pulling at his emotions—much like meeting someone you particularly like.
Night deepened, the smoke blending into darkness. Previously dim campfires are now lit, illuminating a large area. In the water, occasional bubbles rose, breaking silently.
The surroundings were quiet, occasionally punctuated by the calls of water birds, perhaps startled by large fish. These calls never lasted long, and calm returned.
The next morning, fires were rekindled, fish traps pulled, and the quiet busyness of a new day began.
Han Cheng withdrew his gaze from the purple soil near the fire.
By now, he was almost certain this place was the famed Land of Abundance.
From yesterday’s journey, the soil had consistently been purple.
Yet the Land of Abundance now looked vastly different from his memory: primitive and wild.
Recreating it would require a significant amount of effort and time.
After breakfast, the group continued along the river. Tributaries widened the water several times over.
After half a day, the river became shallow and divided into many smaller streams over flat land.
Water plants flourished here, and numerous water birds inhabited the area. Some swam gracefully, others strolled on long legs through shallow water, leaving leaf-like footprints.
A green bird suddenly darted, creating ripples as it caught a fish mid-air.
This was truly a bird’s paradise.
However, when the tribe began arriving with gongs and shooting arrows, the peaceful scene was shattered. Birds fled in panic.
Primitive humans excelled at disrupting nature, and the Divine Child’s vengeance for fish and shrimp didn’t prevent them from seeing birds as food.
To the east, about a mile away, higher ground made an ideal location for a branch settlement.
It was far enough from the mountains with ample depth for expansion.
Facing the river, the surrounding land was suitable for farming, and the swamp could supply water and be transformed into rice paddies—if rice could be found.
Unfortunately, thus far, no rice had appeared.
The rice dream remained just a dream; even Lao Gan Ma fried rice could only be savored in imagination.
After setting up the temporary camp on higher ground and eating, Han Cheng led the group to scout the area, focusing on the swamp for rice.
Splashing water accompanied their cautious advance into shallow waters, beating reeds and shallow pools with sticks to flush out potential dangers.
They used ropes to stay connected and carried makeshift rafts for safety, taking care to avoid sinking into muddy patches.
Luckily, no significant hazards occurred. Most disturbances were caused by birds or sunbathing turtles, and the muddy areas were shallow enough to avoid serious trouble.
Walking through mud splashed water in arcs, reminiscent of children playing in puddles—but this journey was far from playful. Traversing this terrain was more exhausting and dangerous than climbing mountains or crossing gorges.
Effort did not always guarantee reward. Even after crossing the shallow waters to the far side, they found nothing.
“Divine Child, what are you looking for?”
Someone finally asked, curiosity piqued.
By now, reaching the southern purple soils was already an achievement, yet Han Cheng continued to search.
“Rice. A plant that grows in shallow water can be cultivated like millet, yields more, tastes better, and fills the stomach,” Han Cheng explained, mud-dusted and smiling, eyes full of longing—nearly as eager as Yuan Grandpa resting under rice plants in summer.
The tribe’s members were captivated, imagining a crop that was tastier than millet and capable of abundant production.
They couldn’t contain their excitement.
“Divine Child! Let’s keep looking!”
Under such stimulation, one person shouted, running toward the swampy area they had just crossed.
Others followed, equally eager, surpassing the enthusiasm of the Green Sparrow Tribe’s celebration.
Han Cheng had anticipated this reaction. Through years of observing the tribe, he had come to know their characters well.
He guided them to act on beneficial tasks. Their pride in the tribe’s development was strong.
“No! Rest first! We can’t rush this!”
Han Cheng laughed, restraining the excited group. They had already exerted themselves crossing the water and needed a short rest.
“Let’s scout the area first. After surveying the terrain, we can continue searching for rice,” he added.
With this new task, their urgency was slightly tempered.
They formed the same team formation and walked west through the swampy land.
The terrain was similar to that of the east, mostly flat with minor undulations, and the vegetation showed little difference.
Han Cheng had no real expectation of finding anything here. His primary purpose was to let the tribe rest under the guise of conducting a survey.
Yet as is often the case, unexpected fortune arises.
After wandering casually, his gaze stopped on a small patch of plants. During this pause, his expression shifted from doubt to thought, then sudden realization, and finally delight.
“Go check there!”
Han Cheng pointed eagerly to the spot.
The plants had long, narrow leaves, approximately 20–30 cm in length, taller than typical grasses.
Although it was not yet late autumn, they were already conspicuous, growing among withered vegetation.
This immediately caught Han Cheng’s attention.
Chapter 864: Rice Dreams
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