018 The Stone Pot Cracked

The success of hunting with the hemp rope nets was astonishing, a tremendous triumph.

Within two days, everyone in the tribe had heard about it.

People began collecting hemp rope knots.

More individuals started searching for jute plants and twisting hemp ropes.

With a better hunting method, anyone with a bit of sense knew what to do.

Moreover, the people of the Sun Tribe were quite clever, possibly influenced by their lifestyle and diet, resulting in notable physical differences.

After the hunting technique spread, Lin Yan felt that food shortages during the cold season would no longer be a worry.

Once everyone caught baby pikas and began raising them, there would be no shortage of meat.

That evening, Old Hei returned, and Lin Yan asked if there was any progress regarding the clay.

Old Hei had been busy with this matter for days but had made no headway.

Lin Yan comforted him, telling him not to rush and to take his time.

The next day, as she opened her eyes, daylight had already broken.

She lent the net to Heitu; Huahong no longer needed to go hunting but still received a share of the catch, enough for them to eat.

Huahong was squatting motionless by the stove.

Lin Yan approached her. "Mother, what’s wrong?"

“It cracked,” Huahong said, pointing at the stove. She had been simmering meat broth when suddenly the stone mortar cracked, giving her quite a fright.

Lin Yan’s expression also darkened.

That stone mortar was their only makeshift pot; now that it was cracked, it was unusable.

Without it, there would be no warm broth to drink. Lin Yan felt tearfully helpless, as if she wanted to die just once.

The two women skewered a piece of meat on a wooden stick and roasted it over the fire. There was no other way—they had to eat.

After a simple meal, Huahong asked Mu Shi to watch over Lin Yan while she and Yezi went searching for suitable stones.

Finding stones that could be made into pots was truly difficult; without sharp tools to shape them, they had to find stones naturally grooved.

Every household in the tribe was searching for such stones, but not everyone could find them.

Lin Yan’s family shared their stone mortar with Yezi’s family.

Seeing the situation, Yezi and Huahong dared not delay. If they couldn’t find a stone pot, what would they do with their two children?

Adults could drink raw water and withstand it, but children were fragile and prone to illness if they drank untreated water.

The concepts Lin Yan had promoted over the past months had taken root deeply.

There were so many children in the tribe, accounting for one-third of the population; failing to raise them properly would be a huge loss.

She had done the math and roughly understood the reason for the population boom in the Sun Tribe.

In recent years, without migration, they had lived steadily in this area, resting and recuperating. Although the survival rate was low, many children had been born.

Lin Yan understood all this clearly. Now, the most important thing was population. In this labor-centric society, the more people, the better.

She wanted to improve the quality of life; there was so much to do, all requiring manpower.

Therefore, raising people’s dietary standards to increase the survival rate of children was paramount.

More hemp nets meant more pikas hunted; families began raising baby pikas.

Then they discovered that a brood could produce three or four offspring, allowing for breeding and domestication.

No more exhausting hunts; fresh meat was always available.

This discovery lifted the food crisis hanging over everyone’s heads.

People no longer worried about hunger and were all smiles.

The only one dissatisfied was Lin Yan; she had hit a bottleneck.

She couldn’t find clay suitable for firing ceramics and had no cookware or hot water to drink.

Their only stone pot had cracked; they had barely made another one, which was very inconvenient.

Others were content with this, but she was not. To her, life now was no better than that of savages.

But how to solve the cookware problem?

Without raw materials, nothing could be made. The urgent task was still to find various ores and clay.

A month had passed with no progress, and Lin Yan’s face grew increasingly grave.

Old Hei went out early and returned late every day, finally bringing Lin Yan a black stone about the size of a head.

It was a piece of coal, glossy and black, shimmering under the sunlight.

She hurriedly asked where it had been found, but there was no clear origin.

A family had accidentally picked it up and left it unused for who knows how long, tossing it aside.

It was a false hope. Still, she carefully kept the coal, thinking it might be useful later.

Lin Yan shifted her approach and told Old Hei to dig soil from various places.

The Mao family had moved here, only two people: Mao and his mother.

Mao’s mother was old and frail, injured during childbirth, always ill.

Fortunately, Mao was resilient and had survived against the odds. Now eighteen, he was tall and strong.

He had not abandoned his mother and supported them both by hunting with his brute strength.

Mao was diligent and admired Lin Yan greatly, obeying her commands faithfully.

With no need to hunt daily, he stayed close to Lin Yan.

Mu Shi, in poor health, was busy weaving baskets and twisting hemp ropes, so Mao took over caring for Lin Yan.

One day, Lin Yan asked Mao to take her to the river to play.

They arrived at the riverbank, cleared a patch of land, dug some mud pits, and laid large stone slabs on one side.

After a while, Old Hei arrived carrying four small baskets of soil.

Lin Yan emptied the soil into small piles on the stone slabs and asked Mao to bring water in large leaves.

She began working the mud by hand, asking Pangbao to test it.

The technology center had testing functions, but testing inactive materials required contribution points.

“Pangbao, how is it? Is this soil usable?”

Pangbao replied, “Composition is mixed; the components do not match reference data.”

Lin Yan tried each sample, but Pangbao’s answers were all negative.

Only one was somewhat close but still far from true clay.

Lin Yan refused to give up and asked Old Hei where the soil had been dug, asking him to take her to see.

Old Hei hesitated. “It’s farther out, down below. That area is uninhabited and unsafe.”

“What’s there to fear? With you and Mao here, we’ll be careful.”

The two took Lin Yan and set off.

They walked nearly three miles northwest to the place Old Hei mentioned.

Few people came here; the vegetation was dense and thick.

Old Hei had been here before and dared to come again to try.

Upon arrival, Lin Yan saw that Old Hei had dug soil near a large stone.

No wonder it was different from the others.

She looked around but saw nothing. “Do you know anywhere we can see high and far?”

Both pointed simultaneously to a large tree, their meaning clear.

Lin Yan was dumbfounded. How had she forgotten? “Take me up.”

Both shook their heads.

Old Hei cautioned, “It’s dangerous to climb the tree.”

“There are many bugs up there, and they bite. We can’t go,” Mao said.

“You’ve been up before, right?” Lin Yan’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Mao.

Mao nodded. “You’re too small; you can’t climb.”

“Not afraid. You take me up.”

After Lin Yan’s persistent pleading, they reluctantly agreed to take her up the tree.

They chose a large tree, letting Mao climb first to scout the way.

Old Hei stayed below with Lin Yan.