I am a Primitive Man Chapter 926: Heiwa Who Sold His Dignity
A wooden stick with a hook was thrust into the water, snagging the bamboo that had been submerged there.
Shi Tou exerted force with his arms, hauling the bamboo up towards the surface of the water.
This action turned the previously clear water a bit cloudy, and the odor trapped inside started to spread through the nearby air.
Bamboo thriving on solid ground appeared lovely, yet once immersed in water for a period, it began to develop an odor, similar to flax that had been soaked.
Still, Shi Tou paid no mind to the stench.
After performing numerous heavy duties alongside the tribe—such as transporting fertilizer, scrubbing enclosures for pigs, deer, and sheep, and even caring for Green Creek Tribe folks who accidentally swallowed kaolin clay together with Tietou—what sight could truly unsettle him? This was mere child's play, a light shower against the storms he had endured.
Once he lifted the bamboo just out of the water, Shi Tou bent low to examine it closely. This particular bamboo had been steeping in the water prior to the Divine Child's departure to Jinguan City.
Having spent such an extended time submerged, the bamboo's hue had shifted, losing its former bright green shade.
A dark tint now covered it, accompanied by a slippery layer of water corrosion on the outer surface.
Shi Tou squeezed the bamboo, feeling its yielding texture and hints of rot. Drawing from his past work in papermaking, he realized this bamboo wouldn't work for producing paper.
He let out a sigh. Crafting the kind of writing paper the Divine Child mentioned from such stuff was out of the question—at least until the new year arrived.
As temperatures dropped, the rotting process would ease up.
This knowledge came from Shi Tou's own years of papermaking trials, not from the Divine Child's teachings.
He couldn't explain the reason behind it.
Prior to the Divine Child heading off to Jinguan City, Shi Tou had inquired about the cause.
The Divine Child had clarified that during warm conditions, the water heats up sufficiently to allow minuscule, unseen beings—known as bacteria—to multiply rapidly.
These beings would erode the exterior, leading to the gradual breakdown of the submerged flax and bamboo.
The idea filled Shi Tou with dread. For a while, he avoided drinking water altogether, worried about swallowing hordes of these tiny invaders.
It wasn't mere water to drink—it was like sipping a broth teeming with insects!
Even scarier was the notion that, since they could consume flax, these creatures might also attack him in theory.
If tough materials like bamboo and flax fell to them, surely human flesh would be an easier target.
Only after the Divine Child assured him that boiling the water would destroy the danger did Shi Tou resume drinking.
Over time, as he gained more understanding of these minute entities, his terror faded away.
He grew intrigued by them, frequently squinting at water surfaces in hopes of spotting one.
Regrettably, despite his efforts, the water looked the same as always, leaving him irritated.
The Divine Child had mentioned needing a device called a microscope, crafted from a material purer and more transparent than frozen water.
Shi Tou had never encountered such a substance, yet he accepted its reality, much like he did with oxen.
The Divine Child had offered a basic rundown on constructing this microscope, but it seemed intricate. Although Shi Tou had jotted it down, the specifics had slipped his memory.
That said, he retained other instructions vividly, like how heat speeds up odor dispersal, using the summer outhouse as an example from the Divine Child.
Thinking back, Shi Tou held profound admiration for the Divine Child—he observed details others missed and drew conclusions from them.
Having inspected the bamboo, Shi Tou submerged it once more, then proceeded to the following pond, meticulously going through the same routine.
While microscopes remained a distant goal, bamboo-based papermaking was something he could pursue right away.
Upon reviewing all six ponds, Shi Tou washed his hands in the river, wiped them dry, and noted the date along with the bamboo's state in his log using a charcoal stick.
Task complete, he made his way back to the tribe, carrying his observations.
In the meantime, Heiwa unsealed the kiln once again. Amid the tribe's anticipatory stares, he delved inside and retrieved a pale item, keen to check it out.
One look sent his pulse racing.
Differing from earlier white ceramics, this kaolin-crafted piece appeared sleeker, with a faint sheen to it.
It was a breakthrough—this item echoed the porcelain the Divine Child had portrayed!
Those around him caught on too, with some yelling in thrill: “Porcelain! Porcelain!”
Heiwa's face flushed with elation, but his seasoned demeanor kept him somewhat steady.
After composing himself, he inspected the piece intently. It fell short of actual porcelain, missing the sharp ring the Divine Child had depicted.
The sound improved over standard pottery yet stayed somewhat muted.
Though a bit let down, Heiwa's resolve and enthusiasm surged back. Achieving this level meant genuine porcelain lay within reach soon enough.
Advancement rarely came without struggle, particularly in the concluding phases.
Heiwa had fired ceramics multiple times, testing all sorts of tweaks, but that last hurdle persisted. Regardless of duration or precision in firing, the outcome topped out at proto-porcelain.
This vexed him deeply; he had grown reclusive, steering clear of songs or gatherings.
He appeared absent-minded at mealtimes, fumbling chopsticks or capping the incorrect vessel with a lid.
Once, he kept knocking a tiny lid into a vast pot, chuckling as he played around with the chilly draft rising from it.
Despite the chill, Heiwa remained unperturbed, thrilled by the whimsical find, all the more so because it tied into the porcelain he yearned to produce.
Eventually, he placed the lid correctly on the little pot, abandoned the basin, and hurried to the ceramics area.
There, fueled by the fresh idea, he dove into molding clay with zeal.
Beneath the astonished eyes of watchers, Heiwa formed a clay form like an oversized pot, lacking a base.
It resembled a straight-sided tube of even girth, not like typical pots with slim bottoms and bulging centers.
Content with his work, he turned to fashioning another odd item: a broad, flat clay plate featuring a central opening.
Heiwa treated both creations with gravity, using a rod to measure the tube multiple times.
With shaping done, he set about drying them near flames, planning a full bake before kiln-firing.
“Clatter…”
As the hefty clay plate snapped midway, Heiwa emulated the Divine Child by taking a theatrical sniff.
He felt no dismay—the plate's weight made it tricky to handle, and it hadn't met his vision anyway.
Shoving the fragments away, he enlisted his partner Zhuang to build a cover for the tube that would boost the air current.
Though Zhuang had grown annoyed with Heiwa's recent antics, she understood him inside out and agreed, cheerfully aiding in crafting the lid…