I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 866: Whales, Polar Bears, Fat Penguins? Sounds Delicious…
Chapter 866 – Whales, Polar Bears, Fat Penguins? Sounds Delicious…
After a busy day, the sun was once again setting in the west.
Warm sunlight spilled across the land, illuminating the nearby swamp-like expanse of water. Shimmering patches of water reflected the fading rays of the sun.
At the temporary camp they had built, smoke lazily rose from the cooking fires. Dogs wagged their tails, ambling around the camp.
Nearly half of the deer and donkeys lost along the way now grazed around the camp, heads lowered.
Perhaps they sensed the approaching darkness and knew their time to eat was limited, for all of them chewed with focus and speed, barely lifting their heads.
It seemed procrastination was not unique to humans—it was a universally admirable trait.
At the cooking area, Han Cheng personally tended a makeshift stove, carefully adding firewood to it.
Everyone else busy around him kept their attention fixed on the clay pot Han Cheng was overseeing.
Previously, the aroma of roasted meat or meat soup had drawn the most attention. Now, that honor was stolen by this simple pot, which received all the focus.
As the fire burned, the water inside the pot began to boil, sending white steam curling out from the gaps between the lid and the pot.
Inside were some rice grains obtained that very afternoon.
Han Cheng had saved half of the rice carefully. The other half was hulled grain by grain by him and his tribe companions, washed with water, and joyfully put into the pot.
After so many years without rice, failing to cook and taste it now would have been a betrayal of his identity as a food enthusiast from a gourmet empire.
Although he claimed to have used half the rice, in reality, that half consisted of only eighty-three grains.
Realistically, with roasted meat and boiling meat soup nearby, the faint aroma of the rice porridge was masked mainly.
Yet everyone present, watching the steaming pot, felt as if a wonderfully fragrant smell reached them. This was purely a psychological effect.
After simmering for a while, Han Cheng estimated the rice was nearly cooked. He lifted the lid, inserted a wooden spoon, and scooped out some grains to check.
The previously dry grains had doubled in size and showed faint signs of “flowering” (slight splitting).
Satisfied, he returned the spoonful to the pot, covered it, lifted it by the two grass-lined “ears” designed on its sides, and set it aside.
Another pot was placed on the stove to boil water for drinking later.
Han Cheng uncovered the lid of the first pot again and began serving rice tea into bowls.
He preferred rice grains that were cooked but slightly firm—soft enough to eat yet retaining chewiness and flavor.
In his future life, Han Cheng often drank rice tea. Steamed buns and stir-fried vegetables are typically served as accompaniments to breakfast and lunch.
For dinner, he recalled eating noodles or buns nearly every day of the year.
The “rice tea” from his later hometown involved placing a small amount of rice in water beneath steamed buns being reheated. Boiling for a bit longer produced thin rice tea, which was water-heavy and rice-light in texture.
Rice tea was tastier than plain water, thirst-quenching, and economical.
Yet even the thinnest rice tea he had drunk later was more decadent than what he made now. This was authentic rice tea, almost no grains visible.
The eighty-three grains were divided into over thirty bowls. Most bowls contained only two grains; a few had three or four—extremely sparse.
No one complained. Each person carefully brought their small bowl to their lips and sipped from it.
The warm rice tea spread its familiar flavor through Han Cheng’s mouth, nearly moving him to tears.
After years, tasting such a familiar flavor again evoked feelings impossible to describe.
After another sip, Han Cheng began imagining the day they could obtain wheat and make steamed buns.
Seeing the soft buns, he thought, he might even cry out of sheer joy.
This was not sentimentality—it was something profound, ingrained in his bones over the years.
Others did not feel as strongly, yet were equally captivated by the taste of the rice.
Partly, it was psychological—the anticipation of tasting rice after hearing about it for so long.
Partly, it was physiological—the other foods hadn’t been eaten yet, so their taste buds were sensitive, slightly hungry, and thirsty.
The rice, just as Han Cheng said, was delicious, comparable to the millet they often ate.
Especially savoring the last two or three precious grains in each bowl, slowly chewing them, made its quality even more apparent.
Some looked northward, thinking of the tribe members still there.
They had traveled south with the Divine Child, discovered the sweet sorghum and rice, and now had precious food in hand.
Those who stayed in the main tribe would surely be overjoyed hearing the news.
Many felt a burning urge to return quickly and share the good news.
It had been a long time since leaving the main tribe, and homesickness was mounting.
Before, not finding the south was acceptable. Now, these tasks were completed—surpassing expectations—and many found it hard to stay put.
Even Han Cheng missed the tribe.
Bai Xue, silly wife; Little Pea on the panda Tuantuan; Little Xing’er babbling; the smiling Shaman by the rabbit pen…
These people and moments repeatedly appeared in his dreams, making him deeply attached to this place.
Yet they could not return just yet—they still had work to do here.
“Tomorrow we begin building houses. Once we have some built, we’ll return to the tribe!”
Han Cheng set down his warm bowl, smiling with certainty.
Hearing this, the others nodded firmly, reassured.
Constructing a third branch tribe here was advantageous due to the ample space, surrounding wetlands, and potential for waterfields with minimal effort.
“…Once the rice paddies are planted, we can raise fish and shrimp in them. After each harvest, we catch the fish and shrimp…”
Han Cheng began painting a vision of a prosperous life, exciting everyone with these vivid plans.
Sharing such a future vision reduced homesickness and inspired them.
“However… Divine Child, there are no mountains here.”
Not everyone was easily swayed—Shitou raised a concern.
Han Cheng initially did not understand, asking Shitou to clarify.
After some thought, Shitou explained: the main tribe and Bronze Mountain residential area were built near mountains, whereas here the nearest peaks were far away.
He wondered if building a new branch tribe without a nearby mountain was a good idea.
Han Cheng realized Shitou’s thought came from habitual reasoning. In truth, living far from the mountains was safer, especially given tectonic activity in this region.
Earthquakes, landslides, or mudslides could be mitigated by distance from peaks.
Moreover, they can now build strong walls independently.
Understanding this, Shitou was impressed by the Divine Child’s foresight.
Yet a new question arose:
“Divine Child, what are the Indian Plate and Eurasian Plate, and why do they press against each other…”
Shitou’s curiosity was piqued.
Han Cheng smiled, noting Shitou’s keen observation—the boy’s title of “ten thousand whys” was well-earned.
Clearing his throat, Han Cheng seized the opportunity to give a mini-lesson on Earth science.
“…The Earth is mostly water, not land. Continents are broken, surrounded by water, much like the lotus islands in the wild duck lake…”
Thus, centuries before the theory of plate tectonics would formally exist, it entered the ears of the tribe…
As night deepened, stars twinkled above. Insects chirped near and far.
The lively camp grew quiet under the darkening sky.
Lying on his bed of animal skins, Shitou watched the stars, feeling a turbulent mix of emotions.
Through the Divine Child’s teachings, he gained a new understanding of Earth.
He learned there was not just land, but vast waters.
Some waters were salty, home to giant fish—each fish could feed many people.
With large enough boats and sufficient water and food, one could sail these waters to other continents.
Some lands held foods unknown to their tribe.
In icy regions, massive white bears lived; in others, large flightless birds waddled across the snow.
There was even a magical creature called a “grass mud horse”…
Thinking of all this, Shitou’s mouth watered.
Everything sounded delicious—plants and strange animals alike.
If only their tribe could build such ships, bring back these animals and plants, and cultivate or raise them—how wonderful that would be!
Like planting grains and raising pigs at home…
The excitement kept Shitou awake.
He rose, retrieved paper and pen from his bag, and began recording everything he had learned from the Divine Child.
He also wrote down his greatest wish, so future generations would know and perhaps fulfill it.
Even if he would not live to see it realized, the thought that it would one day come true brought him joy.
Carefully recording everything, he noticed dawn approaching.
He folded and stored the papers in his bag.
Unable to sleep, he washed, walked, and sat cross-legged facing east to watch the sunrise.
Soon, the sky turned pale, moist, and fresh. Slowly, a warm red glow appeared, and the sun rose, half-visible already.
Han Cheng awoke and, seeing Shitou watching the sunrise, joined him silently.
They said nothing, merely observing the half-risen sun, enjoying the quiet beauty.
“Why are you up so early?” Han Cheng asked with a smile.
“I couldn’t sleep after hearing what you said yesterday…” Shitou replied, sharing the previous night’s notes and dreams.
Han Cheng was pleased and enlightened. His efforts were not in vain; the tribe was exceptional.
In the future, Western explorers sought gold and spread religion. Now, it was their tribe’s turn, and the goal was far tastier—food alone could motivate everyone to strive forward.
“Your idea is excellent! The world is vast—see it, bring back the best to our tribe. Eat the edible, turn the inedible into medicine. Our tribe will flourish.”
Such an idea was precious and must be nurtured.
“You must not only write it down; later, inscribe it on clay tablets, fire them in kilns. Tell everyone in the tribe repeatedly—adults and children—so that one day, when our tribe grows strong and can sail, some brave descendant will take the ship, voyage across the oceans, find these treasures, and bring them back…”
Han Cheng reinforced the plan and guided Shitou on ensuring the great wish could be realized by future generations.
Sailing to other lands to bring back food might not have been achievable in their generation, but the dream could be passed down.
Like parents leaving their unfulfilled hopes to their children, the Divine Child encouraged the tribe to look forward to future achievements.
Explaining this, Shitou’s eyes sparkled.
The Divine Child was thoughtful, decisive, and inspiring—a hallmark of their era.
Excited, Shitou immediately began sharing his dream with the rest of the tribe.
.
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Chapter 866: Whales, Polar Bears, Fat Penguins? Sounds Delicious…
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