I am a Primitive Man

Looking at the crystals in the small pottery bowl, which was mixed with stone dust and not very white, Han Cheng looked troubled.

They looked somewhat like brine, but even if they were truly brine, they wouldn't be useful for making tofu because the stone dust mixed in was just too much.

If used for tofu, it might end up chipping the teeth.

After carefully inspecting them, Han Cheng couldn't find a reasonable explanation. He added some clean water to the small bowl, and the white crystals quickly dissolved.

After dissolving and with some sedimentation, the stone dust settled at the bottom of the bowl.

Han Cheng had someone clean the previous clay jar, then carefully poured the water into it and began heating it with fire.

The sediment at the bottom of the small bowl was discarded.

After a while, the water evaporated, and only a layer of white crystals remained at the bottom of the jar.

Unlike salt's usual white color, these crystals had a slightly yellowish tint.

Han Cheng stared at the substance for a while, then scratched his head, a little surprised.

The brine, which he had thought would be so difficult to handle, had been produced like this? And it was one of the first things he needed?

It seemed that sometimes the door was only slightly ajar. Things that look hard sometimes aren't as difficult once you try.

Like Han Cheng now, who felt like he had already succeeded, even though he was dazed.

After a moment of confusion, Han Cheng put down the substance that should have been brine and then continued boiling it as before.

After three more batches, he had collected over half a pound of what seemed like brine.

You don’t need a lot of brine to make tofu; otherwise, it will taste bitter and be inedible.

So, what he had collected now was enough to make quite a bit of tofu.

After waiting a little longer, once the salt had been properly prepared, Han Cheng and the others headed back to the tribe.

They had arrived with heavy hearts but were now light and at ease.

It seemed that the hardest part—the brine—had been solved. Now, it was just a matter of going step by step.

The most time-consuming part was the stone mill. Once the mill was ready, they could start making tofu.

As Han Cheng walked back, he was mentally calculating the tasks ahead.

However, with the hammer and iron pick, considering the Mu Tou’s skills, they should be able to get a rough outline of the mill done in a day.

What was going on here?

Walking into the tribe with the jar of brine, Han Cheng looked over at the area where the Mu Tou and the rest were working on the stone mill.

He didn’t hear the familiar sounds of the pickaxe striking stone. Instead, he saw several people crouching on the ground, holding their heads.

He had expected the stone mill to have already taken shape, but the granite stones were still intact and untouched.

Han Cheng felt puzzled. What were they doing?

"Divine Child!"

The person crouching on the ground, holding his head, glanced up toward the tribe's entrance and saw Han Cheng walking in. He looked like he had just seen a savior and called out happily.

The others—Shaman, Lame, and the Mu Tous, all drenched in sweat from the effort—looked up in surprise when they heard the call.

The Mu Tou, holding the hammer and pick, immediately jumped up from the ground and quickly walked toward Han Cheng.

One might have thought he was about to do something to Han Cheng.

"Divine... Divine Child, I can’t draw a circle..."

The Mu Tou stood before Han Cheng, his face full of shame, looking like he might cry.

Han Cheng glanced at the hammer and pickaxe in Mu Tou's hands and, being generous, forgave the project's delay, fully understanding the difficulties Mu Tou had faced.

The Mu Tou had been so troubled that, as a generous person, how could Han Cheng bring himself to blame him? That would be inhumane.

Sometimes, the gesture of bringing a brick to apologize works wonders.

For example, the Mu Tou now, or many years later, when Washington—after cutting down his father's beloved cherry tree to test whether the axe was sharp—carried the axe to his father to apologize...

After this little debacle, Han Cheng quickly understood their problem.

Han Cheng's face twitched. He thought that everything would be fine once he handed over the task. Who would have expected that they had all been stumped by a tiny circle?

It was quite an absurd situation.

Looking at the expectant faces of the others, Han Cheng felt it was time to show his skills!

He rolled up his sleeves, exposing his arms, and picked up the long, stone pencil-like object.

Just as the others eagerly watched, thinking Han Cheng was about to perform a grand feat and quickly draw a perfect circle, Han Cheng, with a swift and decisive move, left and headed toward his room.

The others stared at his quickly retreating, puzzled. Had the seemingly simple task of drawing a circle stung their revered Divine Child?

If it were just a simple circle, why would Han Cheng leave without saying a word?

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Han Cheng returned from his room, walking quickly toward them.

This time, he wasn’t holding an orange but a small length of hemp rope.

With curious and confused looks from the others, Han Cheng tied one end of the rope into a tiny loop while tying the other end to the fine stone pen.

He then found a small tree branch about the size of a pinky, inserted it into the rope loop, and created a simple compass.

Han Cheng couldn’t draw a circle by hand—such skills were generally reserved for skilled artists or seasoned teachers of math and geography.

But fortunately, one of the greatest strengths of humans is their ability to use tools.

Under the others' curious gazes, Han Cheng wiped away the random marks on the granite, then carefully measured and roughly located the center of the stone.

He placed the stick firmly in place, held it with one hand, and stretched the rope tight with the other, applying pressure to draw a circle around the stick.

As Shaman, Shi Tou, Lame, and Mu Tou watched in amazement, a perfect circle quickly appeared on the stone slab.

The group stared at the circle, then at the tool in Han Cheng's hand, and exchanged glances. For a moment, they were all silent.

Had the problem that had been troubling them and had even caused their hair to fall out really been solved so effortlessly?

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