Chapter 70 Scalp
In the face of absolute superiority, resistance was meaningless.
Once chosen, a leader's most important duty was to ensure the tribe's survival. The choice between being driven out and relocating was an easy one to make. Their only worry was the impending snow. Where would their families find warmth? They asked each other but found no answers, hoping only that Chen Jian would provide one.
A few days later, the procession had grown significantly. Chen Jian had used various pretexts to round up the four tribes that had broken their oath, as well as the three tribes that had taken his gifts of bows, fishing techniques, and pottery and never returned.
The column of more than 800 people moved slowly across the autumn wasteland. Chen Jian looked ahead toward the settlement of the last tribe on his list. They were now far to the north, about 150 miles from his own village, by his estimate. He rode his horned deer, waiting for the scouts to report back. This time, the wait was much longer than usual.
Just as he was about to send out a second party, Wolf Pi came rushing from the front. He bypassed everyone else and came directly to Chen Jian, holding something in his hand.
Wolf Pi's face was grim. When Chen Jian took the object, his own brows furrowed.
It was a scalp. A human scalp.
Judging from the irregular cuts along its edges, it had been sliced off with a sharp stone flake. A circle had been cut into the skull, and the entire scalp had been torn away. The scalp was dry and had a tear in it, likely damaged when it was ripped from the head, which was probably why it had been discarded.
"No one left?"
"No. I sent a few men to scout further ahead."
"What about the body?"
"Probably eaten or dragged off by wild animals."
Chen Jian ordered the main group to halt and be on alert, then took a few men with Wolf Pi to investigate.
The cave entrance, usually blackened by cookfires, was cold. An eerie tranquility hung over the place, and it was clear no one had lived there for many days.
Inside, besides a pile of cold ash, there were only a few small bows and arrows likely used by children. After a thorough search, they finally found one other object: a round piece of leather that looked like a drumhead. It might have been torn by a drummer hitting it too hard and then thrown aside. The skin wasn't large, about the size of a bowl, but the more Chen Jian looked at it, the more uneasy he felt. It didn't look like animal skin; it was too smooth.
With nothing else to find, he left the cave, carrying the two pieces of skin. In the distance, several of the other scouts were returning.
"Jian, there are many large animal tracks up ahead. The hoofprints are much bigger than a horned deer's."
When Chen Jian arrived, several of his men were already standing in a muddy patch, curiously observing the strange tracks. They had never seen an animal that made such prints, but they knew it must be massive. It couldn't be a predator like a tiger; there were too many tracks, and that many predators gathered together would starve.
Chen Jian knelt, trying to suppress the shock in his heart and keep it from his face. The hoofprints in the mud were slightly notched ovals. They were unmistakably the tracks of horses, and there were a lot of them—at least a hundred, he estimated. Human footprints were mingled among them.
He carefully identified the tracks. There were no wheel ruts, only hoofprints. It seemed they were still using primitive riding methods, without even a simple stirrup for mounting. A thick log lay nearby, freshly cut, which they had likely used as a mounting block.
His tribesmen asked what they were, but Chen Jian shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's another animal we can ride?"
"Really? It must be bigger than a horned deer! Let's follow them and catch one!" Wolf Pi was excited, wondering what kind of animal it could be.
Chen Jian gazed at the distant jungle and meadow, then shook his head. "We're going back. This is a large tribe. Brother, take a few men and follow their trail. Report back to the main group periodically."
Wolf Pi had never seen Chen Jian look so serious. He whistled, and he and a few others fanned out to follow the tracks.
Chen Jian returned to the main column with the others. The migrating people were already growing flustered, sensing that something had happened. But Chen Jian didn't address them directly. Instead, he called the leaders together, including those from the tribes he was forcibly relocating.
He showed them the scalp. They recognized it immediately. "Is everyone in that tribe dead?" one asked in a panic.
"I don't know," Chen Jian replied, his gaze fixed on the leaders of the relocated tribes. "Do you know what this is?"
"A human scalp."
"Yes. And this is how other tribes treat us. I am making you move because a mother must correct a misbehaving child, and an older brother must discipline a younger one who makes a mistake. But you must remember this: even if an older brother takes up a cane to beat his foolish younger brother, he will never allow an outsider to harm him—not even to touch a single finger."
It was the first time the other leaders had heard such a strange justification, but they understood it immediately. They were leaders, but they were also mothers and older siblings. They knew the feeling: if your child made a mistake and broke a clay pot, you might slap them, but you would never allow a stranger to even scold them.
Chen Jian put the scalp away. "Let's go. Once we are all gathered by the Cao River, no one will dare to treat you like this again."
The ten tribal leaders asked nervously, "Jian, what should we do?"
"The wheat and beans still need time to ripen, and the snows will come soon. That tribe won't move in the snow. You will leave some people to manage your old settlements, and the rest will come to the village to build houses before the first snowfall. We don't have an excess of acorns, so you must bring your own food."
"Yes."
After the discussion, the news was relayed to the rest of the people. There was no widespread panic, reassured as they were by the soldiers armed with stone spears and axes marching beside them.
The journey back was noticeably faster. Wolf Pi and his group of seven or eight scouts kept watch behind them, running back periodically to report that there was no movement.
Chen Jian was already thinking about this new tribe. The world he knew was still small, barely a hundred miles across. The development of civilization was not synchronized; it progressed at different speeds, closely tied to the environment. His own tribe's development had clearly lagged, perhaps due to the great migration decades ago. Only by settling down could a people grow their population and develop new technologies.
Cavalry in this era was not yet a terrifying force in battle; on foot, they were just supporting troops. The real threat was their tactical mobility. He would have to guard against flanking maneuvers and raids on the village. The army's front lines would also need to be strengthened. Chen Jian decided that after next year's harvest, he had to send an expedition down the Cao River. If the Cao River led directly to the sea, then he could consider himself the overlord of this region. But if it was merely a tributary of a much larger river, he would have to seriously reconsider the tribe's future. Along any great river, a primitive civilization was bound to arise.
The return journey was uneventful. When they arrived, the leaders hurried back to their own tribes to make arrangements, leaving some of their people behind. In a few days, many more would come to prepare for the relocation that would happen after the apricots ripened.
Chen Jian took some of his own tribesmen and escorted the relocating tribes to a spot about fifteen miles downstream from the village. He laid out the new settlements every few miles, using stakes to mark the land each tribe could cultivate to prevent future disputes.
The weather was already growing cold, so the most urgent task was to help them build winter shelters. To distinguish their status and save time, the houses they built were completely different from those in his village. They dug pits into the ground and used the excavated earth to build up low, tamped walls around the perimeter. This created a semi-subterranean structure. The design saved half the construction time. The main disadvantage was the lack of light, but the homes would be warm in the winter. Using this method, all the relocated tribes had their own houses within half a month, forming seven simple villages.
The tribute each village was required to pay annually was determined by its population. It was not an excessive amount. They were also required to participate in the yearly ancestor worship ceremony, contributing prey, firewood, and other goods.
After the slap came the sweet date. To appease them, Chen Jian gave them clay pots, bowls, and stone tools for drilling holes. He promised to provide them with wheat and bean seeds after the harvest, with no repayment required. Furthermore, each village received a pair of sheep and a pair of horned deer. The sheep were from the domesticated stock they had captured, and the horned deer would allow them to send for help in an emergency. He also freely taught them how to leach the bitterness from soaked acorns, declaring it a gift from the ancestors.
They were allowed to come and go from the main village, and if someone fell ill, they could seek help there. The most important point was the promise of a path forward: once they had proven their loyalty, they could move into the village proper, become soldiers, share in the spoils of war, and live in houses built above the ground. Of course, they would also be required to provide corvée labor.
After their own villages were built, all the men from the seven tribes headed upstream toward Chen Jian's settlement.
Chen Jian estimated that with this influx, the population would be nearly 2000 people by next year. The settlement needed to be planned; they could no longer live together in such a disorderly fashion. Simple city walls and ditches had to be dug. Non-residential areas for religious ceremonies needed to be built, as did a school, tribal and public warehouses, a simple market street, a threshing ground, vegetable fields, fish ponds, and barns. Everything had to be created from scratch. But now, with a sufficient population, the village could one day become a city.
With enough people, he could even attempt to smelt the first batch of copper this winter. With metal, they could have saws and chisels. With those, they could make stone mills, rollers, planks, and wooden boats...
And the most important thing of all: wheels.
A straight piece of wood can be marked with a line, he thought, but it must be bent to become a wheel. Without metal tools, that was impossible.
Chapter 71: The Beginning of Inequality
Though snow had not yet fallen, a fire was already lit in the hut closest to the cliff at the back of the mountain.
Two large pottery basins held newly made charcoal. It was clear the charcoal had been fired a bit too hot in the kiln, but at least it didn't fill the room with green smoke like firewood did.
Tiger skins were spread across the red brick floor, and a huge deer head hung on the wall, its long, forked antlers a testament to the hunter's strength. In two large pots, gourd plants grew tenaciously, unafraid of the frost outside thanks to the warmth of the burning charcoal. Their vines had already begun to wrap around the deer's antlers.
This was the house Chen Jian had carefully "decorated" to serve as the tribal council hall. Two stacks of bricks topped with a large bluestone slab formed his work desk. Piled beside it was a supply of birch bark and charcoal sticks, which served as his paper and pen.
Seven or eight people were currently sitting in the room, watching curiously as Yu Qian'er carefully touched the white stamens of the gourd blossoms with hemp fibers, wondering what Chen Jian had asked her to do.
These seven or eight people were the leaders from the four allied tribes—Chen Jian's own, the Stone tribe, and the two they had rescued. Aside from the leaders, these tribes had members who were skilled with numbers, while the rest of the allied tribes were still on their way.
Chen Jian signaled for quiet and took out a piece of bark on which he had recorded the total assets of the four clans present.
"When the wheat and beans are harvested, the other tribes will arrive. You are the first to live here with our tribe, so you understand that if you want to eat meat, you first have to hunt. Now that the hunt is over, the meat cannot be eaten by the other tribes for free."
These leaders understood. After living here for some time, they had become very clear on the difference between private property and communal property.
"We can now make wine, fire pottery, burn lime, make charcoal, and boil salt. These are all things the others need, and if they want them, they will have to trade. Once those tribes arrive, the definition of 'communal property' will change. Can you tell the difference between 'yours,' 'mine,' 'ours,' and 'everyone's'?"
Seeing them nod, Chen Jian felt relieved. With the addition of the remaining tribes, and counting the children who would soon be born, the village's total population would reach 2,000. His own tribe numbered only 300, a dangerously small proportion. He had to bind these three tribes to his own through shared interests, raising their combined population to one-third of the total. The two rescued tribes now considered themselves part of his, their elected leaders answering only to him. The Stone tribe was also practically family, thanks to the children they shared.
Chen Jian tapped the bark sheet and called Yu Qian'er over to calculate the daily production of pottery, salt, and lime, and how many days it would take to supply the rest of the tribes.
Yu Qian'er counted slowly, using bundles of wooden sticks to represent larger numbers. While she worked, Chen Jian looked at the others. "In the future, we will use these goods, and we will trade them. After the trade, we will divide the proceeds."
Stone asked, a little puzzled, "Why?"
"I might think each tribe should get ten clay pots, but you might think they should get twenty. How would we resolve that? Besides, if other tribes see us arguing, will they still want to trade?"
Chen Jian did a quick calculation in his head. "The wheat and beans haven't been harvested yet, so we can't make much wine, but the other tasks must be staffed. Each of your tribes will provide ten people to be responsible for this production. On the last day of every month, I will distribute what we've gained in trade."
"Then how will we divide it?"
"If we gain ten catties of grain, our tribe will take five, the Stone tribe will take three, and the remaining two tribes will take one catty each."
The leaders of the two rescued tribes did not object. To be getting anything at all was a pleasant surprise; only a few months ago, they had been slaves. If not for Chen Jian, they might not have lived to see the snow.
Shitou thought it over and gladly accepted. Chen Jian could have done all this without her tribe's involvement, so she was more than satisfied with such a division.
Chen Jian repeated gravely, "Remember, these things belong to *us*, not to everyone."
"We understand," Shitou said. "But... Jian, what if they try to make these things themselves?"
Chen Jian shook his head with a smile. "Impossible. Do you know how long it took us to build a single kiln? One month! Do you know how long it took to learn how to make charcoal properly? One and a half months! They don't have enough time to assign forty or fifty people to this work for dozens of days. It's more efficient for them to have those people hunt. The game they bring back in a single day would be enough to trade for all the clay pots their tribe needs. Why would they waste time doing it themselves?"
There was another reason, which he kept to himself out of modesty. But the leaders understood it well: without Chen Jian's knowledge, it would have taken them ages to discover these techniques by chance.
"By the way, there is one more thing," Chen Jian added. "We can't be idle this winter. We need to reclaim more land before the snow falls, the closer to the village the better. Go back and tell your clansmen not to be afraid of the hard work. We must claim the best land now before the other tribes get here, or our future fields will be far away. Believe me, when the apricots are yellow next year, those tribes will be scrambling to clear their own land."
Of course they believed him. Though they knew reclaiming land was exhausting, they all resolved to tell their clansmen immediately.
After returning to their quarters and discussing it with their people, each tribe selected their ten best young men and sent them to Chen Jian. To increase production efficiency, he needed skilled tradesmen. It was time for a formal division of labor.
It had taken Chen Jian three months to create the handful of craftsmen who were only now beginning to master their trades. Whether it was firing bricks or making charcoal, everything depended on experience. He himself only had a basic understanding, and the gap between that and the practical details was as wide as the gap between heaven and earth.
Take charcoal making, for example. There were many conflicting opinions on the exact moment to seal the kiln. Seal it too early, and the charcoal would be raw, with a hard, unburnt core. Seal it too late, and with too much oxygen, the charcoal would turn to a pile of ash, leaving nothing behind.
Mastering these details had required three months of his craftsmen being excused from farming and hunting. He wasn't worried that the other tribes could copy their work quickly; they couldn't afford three months of full-time study.
Chen Jian brought the thirty new recruits to the kiln yard. Even from a distance, the choking smell of smoke stung his eyes. The door to the charcoal kiln was open. Though it was late autumn, the men hauling charcoal from inside wore only fiber loincloths. Their bodies were covered in sweat, which mixed with the black charcoal ash. From head to toe, only their teeth and the whites of their eyes were clean.
Acorn and the masons were busy building a new pottery kiln. Charcoal burned hotter than wood, and a primitive glaze had appeared by accident during a previous firing. Acorn was trying to figure out how to fire glazed pottery deliberately.
Seeing Chen Jian, he ran over holding a piece of fired pottery. "Jian, touch this! It's very smooth, like ice."
This piece was indeed different. It wasn't porcelain—the clay hadn't been sieved finely enough for that—but it was unlike any pottery they had made before. Its surface was coated in a layer of bluish-white glaze, very uneven and ugly, but a clear step forward.
"How did you do this?"
"Last time, you said I should try painting the pottery with different kinds of mud. I tried smearing a layer of the lime and plant ash you burned. I think if you give me a few more months, we'll be able to make this kind of pottery reliably. It looks much better than the old kind."
"There's no rush. I've brought you some helpers. Let them learn from you. You don't need to do all the manual work yourself anymore; let them handle it. Keep firing the regular pottery for now, but you can build a smaller kiln for your experiments. Write down how long you fire it each time, make small changes, and you'll figure it out within ten months."
They were short on manpower, and according to the old tribal rules, a craftsman like Acorn was still expected to do menial tasks like adding firewood and moving bricks himself. Chen Jian's words made Acorn a little uncomfortable. The idea of not doing physical labor felt wrong, a complete departure from their traditions.
Chen Jian saw his concern and smiled. "Think of it this way: if you can figure out how to make this glazed pottery, your contribution will be far greater than moving a thousand bricks."
Acorn started to say something, but Chen Jian pulled him aside and whispered, "Teach a few of them how to use the pottery wheel. The ones who learn slowly can just be responsible for turning it. The ones who learn quickly, teach them how to shape the clay. You can't have all these men; some will go to the charcoal and brick makers. You will be separate in the future, in charge of only pottery. You get to choose your apprentices first."
Following the method Chen Jian had taught him, Acorn had the recruits take turns working the clay at the pottery wheel. After months of firing pottery, he knew the craft intimately and could identify those with a natural touch from their very first attempt.
Based on the difficulty of the required skills, the thirty men were distributed among the craftsmen in charge of the various operations. It was essentially an apprenticeship system, with the master directing and the apprentices providing the main labor, their tasks assigned by difficulty.
After the men were divided, Chen Jian called the responsible craftsmen together again and had Yu Qian'er review the production numbers. For now, pottery firing could slow down. They needed a large amount of lime for leaching the acorns, at least enough to last until the apricots turned yellow.
He assigned them a rough quota for the month, which had to be completed before the month's end. For the rest of the time, they could rest; they would not be needed for tasks like ramming earth walls or digging pits.
Acorn was still embarrassed. "If we're resting while the other clansmen are ramming the walls, isn't that... wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong with it. Once the wall is finished, they will have time to rest, too. Let me ask you, how many pots can the best of you shape in a day?"
"Six or seven?"
"Exactly. A fast worker on the wall is as productive as two of you. If I put the wall-rammer on pottery and put you on the wall, a job that should take one month would take three."
Acorn pondered this for a moment and nodded. That was true.
"So that's settled. Focus on your craft. In the future, other tribes will come to trade their food and furs for our goods." He then added an incentive. "Think of it this way: every extra pot you fire is like catching another rabbit for the tribe. If you exceed your quota each month, you can have an extra sheep for your meal."
"But if we make too many, won't the other tribes not need so much?"
"When the apricots turn yellow, we will travel down the Caohe River and find other tribes. They will want them," Chen Jian said, looking toward the distant river with a smile. "They just need to be made well. Don't think for a moment that we're the only tribes in this world."
Chapter 72: Painting the City
After assigning the simple handicraft tasks, Chen Jian found Song and gathered several young, non-pregnant women from the allied tribes.
He had them dress in simple linen skirts and fitted them with jingling pottery bracelets and shoes made from rabbit skin.
Each shoe was made from a whole rabbit pelt, with the two small, cute ears dangling over the women's feet. A three-colored thread was tied around each ankle, reminding Chen Jian of the bracelets worn during the Dragon Boat Festival in his past life. He couldn't find threads of five different colors, which was a shame. A string of silver bells would have completed the look, but that was also impossible.
A simple wooden hairpin, studded with a piece of drilled malachite, was placed in their hair, swaying gently with every step. The women felt awkward walking in the new shoes at first, but they eventually made their way to the river, laughing as they looked at their reflections in the water.
A crowd of envious women followed them. Many of the pregnant ones felt a pang of resentment; if not for their condition, they could be the ones wearing these beautiful things. One of them touched her belly and found a comforting thought: I have a child, and they do not.
Watching the young women walk away, Chen Jian thought to himself that this was finally a pleasant sight. Perhaps the true purpose of clothing was to be seductive. After all, concealing parts of the body often aroused more curiosity than revealing them.
The expedition consisted of thirteen people in total, led by Song. They had eighteen horned deer and six sleds woven from grass, laden with various goods and necessities. Most importantly, they carried the tribe's flag.
"Song," Chen Jian said, "as you travel, tell the other tribes stories of our ancestors. Be careful. If you encounter anyone from the Meteorite Tribe, don't be impulsive. Just avoid them."
"Don't worry," Song replied. "I know I can't get revenge on my own. I intend to live long enough to see their whole tribe perish. Jian, should I teach the others how to grow wheat?"
"Not yet. We'll talk about that after the Meteorite Tribe has been dealt with. Be careful on your journey."
Song nodded and gave a shout to depart. The women took off their delicate rabbit-fur shoes and put on sturdy straw sandals, not wanting to soil the white fur on the road. After all, there were no other women to impress on the trail, and no water to see their own reflections in. Who were they dressing up for?
The clansmen watched them go without much worry. A group of thirteen humans was large enough that most predators would leave them alone. Besides, it was autumn, and the wolves were busy fighting for mating rights and choosing their partners; they had no time to bother with people.
After seeing off these "missionaries," the remaining tribespeople sighed, then returned to their huts to continue spinning thread or weaving fishing nets.
Only a group of children remained in the common area, play-fighting with sticks and smashing walnuts. Chen Jian promptly recruited them all to help him survey the perimeter for the new city wall.
A city wall would provide the clansmen with a crucial sense of psychological security. It would also serve as a symbol, proof that they were city-dwellers and thus held the right to a voice in the council.
He decided to build the city in a square, as the tribe's current aesthetic favored regular geometric shapes. However, creating a true square with their existing tools was not easy; he had to start from scratch.
First, he found two straight sticks and fixed them together to make a simple, non-adjustable compass, which he used to draw a large circle on a patch of flat ground. He then drew a straight line for the diameter. By choosing any point on the circle's edge and connecting it to the two ends of the diameter, he formed a right-angled triangle.
Using the imprint of this triangle in the dirt as a guide, he glued straight sticks together with fish-maw glue to create a large, functional try square.
He chose a spot outside the village as the starting corner and used his new square to mark out a right angle, extending the two lines outward. To ensure the lines were straight, he found a long, straight pine pole and stood it upright. He hung a weighted line from it, letting gravity create a perfect vertical. Sighting along this line, he used turpentine to stick three small resin beads to the pole, one above the other. These three beads, now perfectly aligned, became his sights.
He laid the pole horizontally along one of the lines he had drawn on the ground. Looking through his three resin sights, he directed the children, who held a ten-meter rope, telling them to move left or right until they were perfectly aligned. Each time the rope was pulled taut in a straight line, they drove a wooden stake into the ground and moved on. It was a tedious method, but it was the best way to ensure the walls were as straight as possible.
After estimating the future population and the necessary size of the enclosure, he decided on a side length of 250 meters.
The moat in front of the wall would be three meters wide and one meter deep. The excavated earth would be used for the rammed-earth wall itself. The total length of the four sides was 1,000 meters, meaning the total volume of the project was 3,000 cubic meters of earth.
Chen Jian calculated the labor involved. With all the men from the tribes and the prisoners serving corvée, each man would be responsible for digging three cubic meters of soil. Assuming the specific gravity of the soil was 3, he calculated that this amounted to nine tons of earth per person, or 18,000 jin. At a rate of 100 jin per basket, that was 180 baskets of earth for each man.
If each man could dig six baskets a day, the moat would take about a month to complete. Even with simple tools, this seemed achievable. Only after making these calculations could he estimate the project's timeline and properly distribute the work.
When the children had finished placing all the wooden stakes, the final corner was off by about ten meters. Given the tools they had, this was an acceptable margin of error, so he didn't bother with a second measurement.
He used burnt lime to mark a white line along the path of the stakes, just like the lines for a sports festival at a village school in his past life. With the white line drawn, the survey was complete. The overall layout was higher on the eastern side and lower on the western, which would be convenient for drainage.
He told Acorn to fire several thick pottery pipes to serve as drains under the city wall. For the rest, he would wait for the laborers from the other tribes to arrive.
Over the next three days, the allied tribes arrived one by one. By then, Chen Jian's people had already woven many fishing nets. They had tested them a few times in the Cao River with great success, as no one had ever fished those waters with proper nets before.
Once all the outsiders had arrived, however, Chen Jian had his tribe suspend their fishing and began his discussions with the other leaders.
After all the leaders and their strongest men had arrived, the council hall was once again bustling. The leaders of the fourteen tribes gathered together, their eyes drawn to the two large, green gourds that sat ominously in the room, still fresh despite the season.
Four large mutton-oil lamps illuminated the chamber brightly. The surrounding walls had been whitewashed with lime, making them as white as snow and giving off a faint, sharp smell.
The wall at the front was covered by a large, coarse linen cloth. When all the leaders were settled, Chen Jian clapped his hands. Yu Qian'er and another child stepped forward and pulled the cloth away.
It was as if dawn had broken in the darkness of the room. The moment the cloth was removed, the leaders found the image almost painfully bright, like seeing the first rays of the morning sun. Many gasped, rising to their feet to get a closer look.
It was a painting, drawn with starkly simple lines. There were no soft curves, only straight lines, right angles, and rectangles, rendered in black and white with charcoal powder for shading.
The sheer regularity of the geometric shapes stunned the chiefs, especially the sun painted on the far right. It was huge and perfectly round, its arc so flawless they felt as if the real sun had somehow descended into the painting. Though they didn't yet understand what they were looking at, the precise shapes captivated them, and the shock it delivered was far greater than that of the two green gourds.
Chen Jian picked up a small wooden stick, pointed to the large, outermost square, and said, "This will be our wall. Outside it, there will be a moat to keep out wild animals and enemies."
"This is where our people will live. Each tribe will have its own section. These blank spaces are roads. Piling firewood on the roads will be forbidden. For any tribe that violates this, I propose a fine of one hundred jin of food, to be added to our common stores."
"The side where the sun rises will be the market square and the school. All exchanges of goods must happen in the market. The children will be sent to the school to learn pottery, farming, counting, archery, and how to fight in formation."
"The side near the Cao River will be where we honor our ancestors. In the future, anyone who performs a great service for the tribes will have a pottery statue placed here, so that future generations will remember them forever. The laws we pass in this council will also be inscribed on clay tablets and stood up here."
"In the outer corners of the city will be the granaries and the toilets. Relieving oneself anywhere else inside the walls will be strictly forbidden. Wood ash must be piled in the toilets. For any violation, I also propose a fine of one hundred jin of food."
"What do you think of my plans?"
There was no answer. The leaders were already lost in their imaginations, picturing their future lives, picturing what it would be like to live inside this painting. They didn't seem to have heard his question.
Only when Chen Jian asked again did they nod their assent one by one.
Someone couldn't help but ask, "Jian, this is wonderful. We all agree. But… how long will it take?"
Chen Jian held up three fingers. "Three months! It will be finished by the time the apricots are yellow at the latest."
The leaders swallowed hard, unable to tear their eyes from the wall, their hearts pounding in their chests.
"Three months? We can be living here in three months?"
They felt the blood rushing through their veins, their heads growing dizzy. Their bodies trembled slightly, and then they all burst into joyous laughter.
Amidst the laughter, no one noticed Chen Jian whisper something in Yu Qian'er's ear. She nodded and slipped out of the room.
After the leaders' laughter subsided, Chen Jian said, "If you want to live here, you must rely on your hands. If you only use your eyes, it won't be finished in three months, or even three hundred. Our clan will help you build your houses first, but the height of your houses cannot exceed the ancestral hall or the school. Do you all agree to this?"
"Of course, they definitely won't be taller. Jian, tell us what to do."
"Yes, tell us quickly!"
Chen Jian took out a piece of birch bark. "The city wall and the moat require a total of 1,000 sections of work. The seven tribes that rebelled will be responsible for 300 sections. The rest of us will be responsible for 700 sections."
"Since the city wall will protect everyone, everyone must help dig it. The work will be divided according to the population of each tribe that will be living here. Please, tell me the number of people in each of your tribes."
The leaders stated their tribes' populations, and Chen Jian did the calculations to determine the length of the moat each tribe would be responsible for digging.
After listening, several leaders couldn't help but ask, "Jian, what about the captives in your tribe? Are they not being counted?"
"Of course not," Chen Jian replied. "This wall is not being built to protect them. It is to protect us."
Those leaders said no more. As they began to worry about how long the work would take, Chen Jian smiled. "I have already calculated it for you. If each man digs six baskets of soil a day, we can finish the trench in one month."
"Six baskets? That's easy! Our men can dig ten baskets a day."
"That is your affair. I will show each tribe which section to dig. When you finish is up to you. But if you cannot finish your section before the apricots turn yellow, then you will never live inside this city."
The chiefs all laughed and readily agreed to the proposal.
"The second matter," Chen Jian continued, "is that we will be growing wheat and beans. War requires training, and training requires food. I have two proposals. You may choose one."
"One: we divide the land into family plots and public plots. Each tribe must first farm the public land before tending to their own. The grain from the public land will belong to all of us. It will be used to prevent famine, to supply our warriors, to support the children, and to reward those who make great contributions to the tribes."
"Two: we make no distinction between family and public land. All land belongs to the tribe that farms it, but for every fifteen jin of grain harvested, one jin must be given over as public property. Any tribe that fails to pay will be driven from the city and stripped of its right to sit on this council."
After he finished, the leaders discussed the options in whispers and almost unanimously chose the second method.
"Then it is settled. We will follow our previous method and engrave this decision on a clay tablet."
The wet clay tablet had already been prepared. As the leaders stood up, ready to press their thumbprints as they had before, a sudden clamor of drums and shouts arose from outside, startling them.
"What's happened?"
"Nothing," Chen Jian said calmly. "My people are fishing with nets."
"Nets?"
Chen Jian walked to the window, pushed aside the grass curtain, and looked out. On the Cao River, his clansmen paddled birch-bark boats, singing strange, cheerful tunes. With laughter, they cast their nets, filled with hope, into the water.
Chen Jian turned from the window, a look of casual confidence on his face. He smiled at the leaders. "Let us go out together and see how many fish our ancestors, in their wisdom and protection, have brought us."
Chapter 73 The Dumb Redfish and the Smart Redfish
The sun rises in the east and sets in the west; the Caohe River originates in the west and flows to the east. The boat drifted with the current, and under the setting sun, the people on board cast long shadows. A long tail of slanting light shimmered on the emerald green autumn river, its reflection shattered by the ripples from the wooden paddles.
The women on the bank sang in response to the fishermen on the river, their eyes fixed on the nets being cast in the dim twilight. A conical net, weighted with stone pendants, sank underwater and formed a huge ring.
The men on the boat tightened the ropes, drawing the sinkers together at the bottom, and with a great shout, hauled the net full of fish aboard. Sometimes the catch was so heavy that the boat rocked precariously as they pulled.
The ten leaders, who had never seen a proper fishing net before, were mesmerized by the scene, frozen in the golden light of the setting sun. For those who had grown weary of eating acorns, this image of fishermen singing on the green water at sunset was an alluring sight. They couldn't tell exactly how many fish were caught, but from the strained postures of the men pulling the net, they could guess it was a lot.
"That's the net?"
"Yes, that's a real net."
The leaders waited for the first small boat to land and then rushed over. Several large fish thrashed and jumped inside, their round mouths opening and closing as they flapped their tail fins.
This was far better than their old method of herding fish into a tributary, especially now that the weather was getting colder and the river water could cause cramps within minutes. Although hooks could catch large catfish, the efficiency was low and nowhere near as convenient as a fishing net. With such a net, they thought, their clansmen could at least eat fewer acorns.
But when they saw the fishing net up close, their hopes fell. They couldn't learn to make one because they didn't have twine. The twine was very thin, much lighter and finer than a rope made from crudely wound bark fibers. It would be impossible to make such a net with a bark rope.
"Chen Jian," one of the chiefs said, his voice hesitant, "we want to trade for one of these nets. We can offer... acorns." By the time he finished, his voice had faded to a whisper.
Chen Jian shook his head. "We don't like acorns. Besides, we don't have much twine right now; these are the only nets we have. But how about this: you can use them when we don't need them. Just give us a portion of the fish you catch each time."
The leader's face lit up. She was already familiar with Chen Jian's way of doing things. After a moment's thought, she said, "For every ten catties of fish we catch, we will give you one."
Chen Jian turned and asked his clansmen, who all agreed. And so, the lease agreement was settled.
A few of the lighter, stronger visitors boarded the boats to learn how to cast the net and pull the ropes. Although Chen Jian's men were not yet highly skilled, the harvest was good, both because the river was teeming with fish in the autumn and because it had never been fished this way before.
Chen Jian figured that fishing nets would be the first product his handicraft industry could sell. This was a good advertisement. Once the other tribes had nets, they would have plenty of fish and thus have goods to trade. His own tribe could then save the time spent fishing and focus on other tasks, always maintaining a slight surplus of products that kept them ahead of the other tribes.
To celebrate the "first" catch with a net, the other tribes were invited to a dinner of fresh fish soup. The staple food was acorn cake, which tasted acceptable enough. The addition of some dried coriander gave the fish soup a pleasant flavor. As they ate, the people talked amongst themselves around the fire, discussing their plans for the next day and passing the time.
A few of the captured red crucian carp were thrown into the lotus pond. The pond wouldn't freeze solid in winter; as long as they broke the ice for ventilation, the fish would survive. There were already many red fish in the pond, and they often swam together in a beautiful school. The children frequently threw them scraps of food.
Over time, the fish had become conditioned. Now, even if someone just spat into the water, the red fish would swarm around. Every time Yuqian'er saw this, she would say, "The red fish are so stupid."
The red fish in the pond were indeed stupid, but the woman who had once been called Red Fish was very smart. At that moment, she was having her own dinner with several other women. They had only fish soup, no fish meat. One might think they were like the fish kept in the pond, but that wasn't the case at all.
Twelve of them were locked in a house to spin thread. They had just completed their daily quota and were not yet eligible to eat fish meat. In truth, these twelve women were the slowest spinners among all the female slaves. They simply didn't have a talent for it, and it was troublesome to force them to continue.
After the female slaves learned to spin, they were divided into four groups according to their speed. Each group had its own small room, and they rarely interacted with the others.
Red Fish was in the group of the twelve slowest spinners, but she knew that if she were spinning for a lover or a child, she could produce several times more thread each day. She deliberately slowed herself down because she was smart.
It had taken her two months to understand what these people were saying, but she still pretended she couldn't—every priest who inherited the wisdom of a tribe had to be clever. And because she was clever, she had discovered Chen Jian's cunning.
She noticed that Chen Jian grouped the women according to their spinning speed. The women in the other rooms must have a much higher daily quota, yet the food they received was the same as her group's. Correspondingly, if one wanted to eat fish meat, one had to spin an additional amount beyond the quota.
So, while it had taken her only seven days to learn to spin, she had then spent half a month carefully maintaining her speed at an extremely slow level.
A few days ago, she had heard that some of her former tribesmen had intentionally smashed their spinning wheels, and some of the men had deliberately broken their own bones while clearing land. In the eyes of those tribesmen, these tools were the root of all evil. When they didn't have these tools, life was simple. But since the emergence of these "evil" tools, everything had changed, and they were forced to use them every day. Without hoes, they wouldn't have to dig; without spinning wheels, they wouldn't have to spin; without stone mortars, they wouldn't have to crush acorns...
Those clansmen were, of course, whipped with rattan canes. Red Fish thought they were fools. The problem was not the tool, but their status as slaves. What good did smashing a tool do? The only outcomes were a beating or death.
Besides, she found these magical, ingenious tools fascinating. If her own tribe had possessed such things, their lives would have been completely different. In the past two months, she had seen so many shocking things, and she even felt an urge to ask Chen Jian how these tools worked. When the women were divided into groups for spinning, she had relied on what she heard and guessed to make the right choice.
In fact, she could finish her daily quota of thread in half a day. She spent the rest of her time thinking, or simply staring at the spinning wheel, studying its mechanics and wondering if the potter's wheel she had heard about was similar.
Her days were quiet, allowing her to think in peace, just as she had in her old tribe. The rift from the "whistle-blowing" incident had not yet healed. The women dared not speak to each other, fearing that an informer was among them. But after careful observation, Red Fish had concluded that there could be no informer among these twelve. She trusted her intuition and her judgment.
These twelve women spent their days babbling, learning the new language, something they could do without being punished. When food was delivered, the person outside would ask them the name of the food, and they could only eat after saying it correctly. The meals were small; if you didn't over-fulfill your quota, you wouldn't feel full. This, too, seemed to be a careful calculation.
Red Fish drank the last sip of her fish soup. The man named Jian was truly frightening. It was as if he turned everything into numbers—one, two, three, four, five—as precise as five fingers plus five fingers equals ten, with no other possibility.
After eating, the women wanted to continue spinning by the dim firelight, hoping to earn the right to eat fish meat tomorrow. Their speed had indeed increased in recent days. But just as they were about to start, they heard a familiar, shocking voice. It was Red Fish, their former priest, whispering to them in the language of their old tribe.
"Don't spin so fast. Stop. No more spinning today. Sleep."
The others were about to ask why, but Red Fish silenced them. Out of long-held trust, they obediently put down their spindles and lay down on the cots covered with hay. Red Fish stood up and placed a stone from her mouth on the grass curtain that served as a door. If someone tried to enter, even by quietly parting the curtain, the stone would fall and make a noise.
The women watched in amazement. Red Fish whispered, "Don't spin too much. If you do, the daily quota will also increase. They will only let us eat fish once every few days anyway. It doesn't mean we can eat fish every day just because we spin faster."
They didn't quite understand, but after Red Fish explained it further, it dawned on them.
"We spin the same amount every day," one woman murmured. "Even if we get faster, they'll just make us spin more. We can just speed up a little every three days and eat fish then."
"This man named Jian is very cunning, like a fox."
"Yes, much more cunning than our chief. Otherwise, it would be they who were digging the ground in our village."
"But we don't know how to dig fields either."
"If we had won, we would have learned. But we couldn't win. They have enough food, so they have more time to learn how to fight. We had to fight and hunt at the same time."
Several women sighed. "I miss my children. I haven't seen them for so long. I wonder how they are? It's tiring here, but at least there's food every day. But... every day is the same. Just like the sun, always rising and setting. The sun is sometimes covered by dark clouds, and sometimes there's a rainbow, but our lives are like the sun at high noon—always the same, every single day."
The women who had children began to cry silently. They hadn't seen their children in two months and only knew they were alive. But living like this, wouldn't their children end up just like them? Repeating the same tasks every day, with the workload always increasing.
Red Fish nudged them with some irritation. "Don't cry. At least they are still alive."
"Red Fish, what can you do?" one asked.
"Nothing. We can't run away. Go to sleep. This is all I can do—help us do a little less. From now on, listen to me. I will tell you how much to spin. If I say not to spin too much, then go slowly."
The women sighed and looked at the closed windows, unable to fall asleep. The windows could be pushed open, but no one dared.
They hoped that one day, they could open the window just because they wanted to, or push open the door just because they wanted to. That alone would be enough.
They didn't know the word for it was freedom, but they were beginning to envy the birds outside the window.
Chapter 74: Dawn of the Bronze Age
Birds are free because they have wings; tigers are free because they have claws. Freedom is nothing more than a delicate balance between the cost of resistance and the cost of suppression. It is always relative.
After Chen Jian learned that the slaves were deliberately damaging their tools, he felt a sense of relief. At least they knew how to resist, even if their methods were misguided. At least they were not like certain peoples who, even in an industrial society with a caste system, would rather see tens of thousands commit suicide each year than ever think of rebelling.
Without him, perhaps one day—when bronze was successfully smelted, cattle and horses were domesticated, and production tools had advanced to the point where intensive farming was no longer necessary—a ruler might look down mercifully upon the slaves kneeling on the ground and tell them they could have their own land, so long as they paid their taxes each year. The ruler would then be hailed as a saint, welcomed with tears of gratitude.
Or perhaps, one day, these slaves would stand up, fashioning weapons from wood and arrowheads from stone. Even if their blood flowed in rivers, they might, within a few decades, transform themselves from property into serfs, winning their status as human beings because the cost of suppressing them had grown too high. The ruling class would then choose a more relaxed policy to ease the tension.
The latter is liberation; the former is salvation. Liberation is won with one's own hands, while salvation depends on the conscience of others.
For a long time to come, not everyone who sits on a chair will have a conscience, but everyone who kneels will have hands.
He felt, however, that he might be able to find another way, to guide them through a smoother transition. But how could such a path be forged?
The biggest difference between him and other transmigrators was that he wasn't just living for this one life. His power relied on the hard work, unyielding spirit, resistance, and bravery of an entire people. It relied on tens of thousands of people of the same race, who spoke the same language and shared the same culture, occupying every inch of farmable land. He would not pin his hopes on the appearance of some enlightened future ruler.
Even a person with world-defying power couldn't make much of a wave with a nation of people committed to non-violent non-cooperation.
Chen Jian stared at a few children spitting into the fishpond in the distance and felt that he might be able to create a small wave, or perhaps an even smaller one. But there was absolutely no possibility of single-handedly turning the world upside down. Whether it was land rent defeating the nobles or capital smashing the crown, it would all require bloodshed and resistance.
As he was lost in thought, Yu Qian'er ran over, shouting, "Brother, what are you doing just standing here? The tribe is waiting to start digging. It's going to snow in a few days!"
Chen Jian shook his head, chasing away the ridiculous thoughts of personal glory. "Didn't I ask you to calculate how much land each person needs to dig? Have you finished?"
"I've calculated it. We have a total of 150 steps of land to divide. For our own people, including the two rescued tribes, that's 140 men. Those two tribes have their own able-bodied men, and we still have the captured slaves. I've planned it out. After excluding the men who are burning kilns, each man will be responsible for one step. The tribesmen who are helping other clans build houses are being fed by them. I let Tanuki and his group handle the kiln building. They're the only ones who know how, since they do it all day. For every kang and flue they build, they'll collect 100 catties of fish, which they can pay back slowly later."
Chen Jian smiled. "You've done a good job. Our tribe hasn't had to do any fishing for months."
"That's right! Tanuki was just saying that the three of them can build a kang in half a day. That's a hundred catties of fish a day!"
She then lowered her voice and added mysteriously, "I also saw him asking the other tribes for sheep horns. He said they were his payment. He wants to grind them into a comb for Sister Lancao. I think the baby in Sister Lancao's belly must be his."
"Then don't tell Sister Lancao about the comb."
"I won't. She'll be so happy when she sees it."
"Good. By the way, while you're managing the redistribution, I'm going to take a few men and leave for a few days. I won't be able to dig my share. Have the tribe help me out."
"Then you should take more men with you! What if you run into those scalping tribes? Take twenty?"
"No, ten will be enough. We're not going that far."
"Oh."
Yu Qian'er thought for a moment, then asked, a headache creeping into her voice, "But with 150 steps and 140 men, how much is each person's share?"
"Silly girl. Can't you just have them each dig one step, and then have everyone dig the last ten steps together?"
Yu Qian'er's face lit up. "Oh, right! Everyone digs a little more than one step. So that's ten steps divided among 140 people..."
But then her brow furrowed again. She couldn't do that calculation. Besides, even if she could, how could you divide a rope one step long into so many tiny pieces?
Chen Jian looked at his frowning sister and said with a smile, "Think about it slowly. I have to go. Don't forget to talk more with Mom and Grandmother. Grandmother likes to reminisce, so ask her about the old days. Don't keep talking about things she doesn't understand. And remember to boil some water with platycodon and almonds for her; she's been coughing a lot lately."
"I understand. I'm not a child anymore; I remember everything. Brother, do you think Mom will give us a little brother or a little sister?"
Chen Jian laughed. "Ask Mom if she wants to drink vinegar or eat mustard seeds. If she drinks vinegar, it's a boy. If she eats mustard seeds, it's a girl."
Yu Qian'er rolled her eyes, but an idea sparked. At dinner, she would put vinegar and mustard seeds in front of her mother and aunts and secretly watch what they ate. When the babies were born, she could tell everyone she knew whether they'd be a boy or a girl. They would all think she was incredibly clever.
With this exciting thought, she ran off to get things ready.
Chen Jian watched his sister go with a smile, then found ten of his most capable fighters, took along a former member of Hua's tribe to act as a guide, and left the village on a horned deer.
"Do you remember where you found the green stone?"
"I remember. It's not far from our old cave. There are some puddles there where the water is blue-green, but you can't drink it. Someone from our tribe drank it once. His back hurt the next day, and then he died."
"Why would anyone drink that?"
"It was blue, the same color as the sky. Some said it was a piece of the sky that had fallen to the ground, so he drank it. After he died, none of us dared to drink it again."
"Take us to that mountain."
Knowing that Chen Jian never did anything without a reason, Wolfpi brought his horned deer alongside and asked, "What are those green stones for? They can't be for women's hairpins, can they?"
"Of course not. Those stones can be made into spears and axes sharper than any stone."
"Impossible! We tried drilling one a few days ago. The green stone is much softer than the white stone."
"You'll see," Chen Jian replied.
Two days later, a late autumn sleet began to fall. They were only a dozen miles from the mountain, so they found a cave to rest. In the distance, the mountaintop was dusted with snow, while the base of the mountain still wore the dim yellow of late autumn.
After the rain cleared, the group arrived at the foot of the mountain. The rain had caused some of the copper salts to seep from the rock, dyeing the stones with green, snowflake-sized spots.
Walking around the mountain and observing the mottled verdigris, Chen Jian felt confident there was a rich copper deposit beneath them.
The tribesman led them to a small, hidden pool near the top of the mountain. The water was indeed a vibrant blue-green. Holding it in his cupped hands was like holding a piece of the sky.
The area was rocky, with no large trees. At the base of the mountain lay a field of gravel. This, the guide said, was where the malachite had been found.
Chen Jian led his men to search the gravel for a long time, finding several pieces of low-quality malachite. Whenever he saw a black stone, he would smash it with a large piece of granite. Finally, he found several chunks of native copper.
He broke away the black oxide exterior, and the yellow metal within shone brightly in the sunlight. This was the first metal he had seen since coming to this world.
Iron rusts and oxidizes easily under natural conditions. Meteoric iron can last for a long time because it contains nickel and chromium, which act like stainless steel, but he had no chance of finding either of those.
Native copper exists in nature, but it's too soft. Weapons made directly from copper would be easily blunted. Furthermore, copper shrinks severely as it cools, making castings brittle.
Copper deposits are usually associated with tin, lead, or silver ore, so creating an alloy shouldn't be a major problem. The smelting temperature of tin is only three to four hundred degrees, which presented no difficulty.
Finding lead ore would be best. If the scalping tribe had already formed a settlement, they would eventually want to trade with his tribe.
He'd have to see what their skin was like. If it wasn't yellow, he could dissolve the lead ore in vinegar to make sweet lead acetate and sell it to them along with some sour wine in exchange for horses. He estimated that in ten or twenty years, that tribe would be nearly extinct, saving him a lot of trouble.
The problem was, he had never seen lead ore before. Tin ore, however, was easy to recognize. It formed unique, sharp-edged crystals that resembled diamonds. It seemed he would just have to experiment.
He put the pieces of native copper away and asked the guide, "How far is it to the Caohe River from here?"
"If we follow the valley out, it will take half a day."
"That far?"
Chen Jian climbed to the top of the mountain, looked out at the distant ranges, and contemplated how to mine these copper deposits.
This place was too far from his own city. Their main focus had to be farming for now. They didn't have enough people to spare for mining, and building a new village here just for smelting was out of the question. The smelting technology had to remain in the hands of his own tribe, and they would never abandon their fertile land to move here.
The only way was to mine the ore, haul it to the edge of the Caohe River, and ship it downstream by boat. To equip a village of over 2000 people with bronze weapons and farm tools, he would need at least a ton of copper. The ore here was of decent quality, but that still meant they would need to transport twenty tons of it.
Bronze farm tools and weapons were the top priority. Ritual vessels and sacrificial objects could wait. Once bronze tools and weapons became widespread, the pace of population integration would accelerate, and they would have enough people to mine properly.
It seemed he would have to mobilize everyone to carry back one load of ore each.
With the first batch of smelted bronze, he would make a saw and an axe. With those, they could build a simple road. A road would allow them to consider using wheels, which should be enough to meet the tribe's daily needs.
After making these calculations, he called to the tribesmen who were still searching for stones at the foot of the mountain, and they started back the way they came.
There was still so much to do when he got back. He needed to build a copper furnace and a few small docks. He hoped to make a pair of copper forceps before the next babies were born. It wasn't a complex tool, but it could save the lives of so many mothers and infants.
He looked back at the hill of boulders. The copper minerals, leached out by the rain, were particularly beautiful.
It felt like the dawn of the Bronze Age.
Chapter 75: Unaffordable Industry
After returning to the village, Chen Jian went to visit his grandmother first.
The old woman had been coughing badly for the past few days. Yu Qian'er was sitting with her, asking about the past and bringing up topics she knew would interest her. Just as Chen Jian had advised, she didn't introduce a single new concept.
The old grandmother's eyes shone brightly as she recalled the past, recounting for her grandchildren the same stories she had told many times before. Yu Qian'er always managed to find what her grandmother most wanted to talk about, even deliberately saying foolish things to give the old woman a chance to display her wisdom and experience.
Seeing Chen Jian, the old woman asked with a smile, "Shouldn't you be busy with your work? It's just a cough, don't worry about me."
Chen Jian knew that the greatest act of filial piety was to make his grandmother feel useful, so he asked, "Grandma, how big is a newborn child?"
The old grandmother looked at Chen Jian, smiled, and shook her head. "Very small. Wrinkled all over. When you were born, you couldn't even cry. Your mother was so frightened she froze. It was I who slapped your bottom hard to make you cry out."
Recalling the memory, she smiled, and a bit of warmth seemed to return to her. She had been feeling cold all the time recently. Even though the children had brought her many furs and sewn her overshoes and gloves from rabbit skins, she still felt a deep chill, as if her blood were cold and sticky mud.
Chen Jian laughed when he heard his grandmother's story of his birth.
"By the way, Grandma," he said, "have Yu Qian'er make a clay figurine the size of a newborn child, especially the head. She was too young to have seen one, so you'll have to tell her how to make it."
"Alright. Yu Qian'er, go dig up some clay now."
After Yu Qian'er went out, the old grandmother reached out to touch her grandson's hand. "Jian," she said, "how long until the wheat turns yellow?"
"A few months."
"Oh."
The old grandmother raised her head and thought for a moment, then patted the back of Chen Jian's hand. "Go on, good boy. Go do your work. I will have that clay figurine made as soon as possible."
Chen Jian respectfully exited the room. He turned and glanced at the closed door, sighed, and offered a silent prayer. He knew why she had asked when the wheat would turn yellow. *But when the wheat ripens,* he thought, *there will also be beans, copper and iron, wooden boats and carriages... things you haven't seen yet.*
He left and found Civet Cat, who was building a flue for one of the other tribe's huts. After adjusting his mood, Chen Jian asked, "How many fish did you get in trade?"
"Five hundred catties. Our tribe's share is 150 catties. I asked Yu Qian'er."
"Gather your men," Chen Jian ordered. "Stop this work. Go and build a kiln." He was determined to let his grandmother see the many things she had never seen before.
Civet Cat casually wiped the mud from his hands on a wall. With his simple tools, he called over the men who had been practicing kiln-building for the past three months and followed Chen Jian to the river.
Chen Jian then summoned the pottery makers and charcoal burners, a total of more than 40 people. They knew that if Chen Jian asked them to stop their current tasks, it meant something better was about to be created, and they were all excited.
He surveyed the terrain by the river. A small pier would be built there in the future to transport goods. Copper ore couldn't be moved in birch-bark boats; they would capsize too easily. A boat laden with ore would also have a deep draft, so he had to consider the possibility that it might not be able to dock. He took a wooden stick and probed the depth of the water nearby, chose a suitable spot, and planted the stick as a marker.
Turning to look at the riverbank, he knew the copper furnace had to be built on higher ground to prevent it from being submerged during floods and to keep groundwater from seeping up and making the kiln damp. He found a spot 100 steps from the future pier. The terrain was higher here, and the ground was firm, which would be convenient for building a road to transport the ore.
He had never seen a copper smelting furnace, but he guessed it would be something like a covered flowerpot. After the copper ore was heated, it would melt into liquid copper, and the remaining slag would also melt. When a hole at the bottom of the "flowerpot" was opened, the molten copper would flow out.
Copper has a relatively high specific gravity, so the molten slag would float on top of the liquid copper. He pictured it like plugging a hole in a flowerpot and pouring in oil and water; they would separate into two layers. The water would flow out first, then the oil, and then it could be reloaded.
That was his theory. For it to work, the slag had to be melted. Fortunately, he already had the pre-technological knowledge for this: burnt lime could be used as a flux to lower the slag's melting point. Only when the slag was molten could it be drained smoothly. Otherwise, they would waste a furnace with every smelting, a cost that their current productivity simply couldn't bear.
The "flowerpot" would need two vents in its side walls. They would use a bellows to blow air inside, feeding the charcoal fire and raising the temperature high enough for smelting.
The bellows would be simple enough to make: four or five wooden or pottery rings, spaced a foot apart, with a sleeve of animal skin stretched over them. Each time it was pulled, the rings would compress, forcing the air out. When straightened, the rings would act as a skeleton, restoring the cylindrical shape. Imagine it like a leather accordion. The pottery tuyeres, or air pipes, for the vents would be easy to fire; that was the least difficult part.
He called over a few masons with a professional eye. On the ground, he drew a rough sketch shaped like an upside-down goat milk bag, with a pointed top and a wide bottom.
Acorn looked at the sketch and said, "Jian, how hot will this kiln get? In the charcoal kilns, some of the bricks have been fired so hot their outer skin has melted and feels as slick as ice. If this gets too hot, we can't use bricks."
Chen Jian hadn't considered the materials. After a moment, he said, "It will probably be hotter than burning charcoal."
"Then we have to use yellow mud and clay, tamped down."
"Alright, we'll listen to you."
After settling the issue of materials, Chen Jian said, "Then let's dig a foundation first and tamp the ground firmly so water doesn't seep up. It would be best to leave two flues at the bottom for a pre-heating fire to keep the kiln from getting damp."
"The flues are no problem," Acorn said. "We can build them with stones and bricks. You mean to build the kiln on top of the flues?"
"Yes. Can it hold the weight?"
"It should be fine."
Several of the new "apprentices" rushed back to fetch tools and started digging. Chen Jian and the other senior workers moved stones and bricks to the site.
In the excavated pit, they first built two flues, covered the top with stone slabs, and then backfilled with loess. Thirty or forty men tamped it down together, then lit a fire in the flues to bake the foundation hard and firm. It took an entire day.
After confirming the rammed-earth foundation was solid, they began to mix yellow mud and clay. The two soils were extremely viscous and difficult to blend, but fortunately, they had many hands. They used the mixture to form a base, panning out the bottom first. Although the principle was similar to a flowerpot, the opening couldn't be at the very bottom. Instead, they created two downward-sloping tap holes on the side near the base, one higher than the other. The high one would drain the slag, the low one the molten copper. They scraped the inside of these two holes as smooth as possible to help the thick, molten material flow.
A deep pit was dug in front of the copper outlet so that clay pots could be placed inside to catch the liquid copper. The slag outlet faced the hillside, allowing the waste to be dumped directly down the slope. There might be gold and silver in the slag, but these metals were meaningless now; they couldn't be refined and were treated as waste. Gold's value is given by people; to the current tribe, it wasn't as useful as a sickle.
Once the base was built, the top was easy. An inclined vault was not difficult for Civet Cat. A dome with a diameter of only one step was much simpler than that of a charcoal kiln. He had been practicing his craft for three months, and practice makes perfect. Eager to show off his skills to the apprentices, he worked quickly. They inserted the pottery tuyeres at a downward angle in the middle section and left a feeding port and an exhaust hole at the top. And that was basically it. Whether it would work or not, they would have to wait until they fired the first batch of copper. The walls of the furnace were about one and a half feet thick, which was enough for insulation. The pottery tuyeres were a foot longer than the wall's thickness. The thermal conductivity of pottery is very poor, so they wouldn't have to worry about it burning the leather of the bellows.
They brought over some tanned skins, and the tribe's best sewer stitched them into a sleeve. She sealed any potential air leaks with isinglass glue and leather patches. When it was finished, Chen Jian gave it a pull. It took a lot of effort, which proved the seal was good, and he felt the effect was promising.
He calculated that smelting a single furnace of copper would require at least six people, not counting ore preparation and rest: two for the bellows, one to clear the slag, one to collect the copper, one in charge of the tap hole, and one on top, ready to add more ore.
And if you counted the entire production line, the problems multiplied. Ore preparation needed two people to sort the ore and two to crush it. One person was needed just to carry charcoal. The charcoal production itself required two people to burn it and seven to chop firewood. And mining would require at least ten men working every day.
For this one small copper furnace, the entire industrial line needed 30 able-bodied men to be completely removed from agricultural production. At its current level, the tribe could only afford to support such an operation with the food they had acquired through trade.
The crude "blister" copper produced this way would be very soft, only useful for casting blunt objects, and not as hard as stone. Therefore, they needed to build two more furnaces: one for smelting tin ore, and another for melting and mixing the blister copper and tin in a pottery crucible to create a bronze alloy.
To run the full-scale operation would require 60 men to leave agricultural production. The tribe couldn't afford that right now. The work would have to be staggered: smelting copper on the first day, tin on the second, and casting on the third.
Even this primitive industry was something no single tribe could afford. None of the other allied tribes could even attempt it. One success could certainly be exchanged for a lot of food, but other tribes wouldn't succeed on their first few tries. Chen Jian reckoned that if any other tribe tried this, their entire population would starve to death within a month.
This was the power of industry, even in its most primitive and crude form.
---
⭐ $5 Tier – Early Access!
Stay 50 chapters ahead of public releases on RoyalRoad and Scribble Hub.
Latest available chapter: 133.
Chapters are uploaded as soon as they're completed, so you'll always be ahead of the curve.
By joining, you'll be directly supporting the story while enjoying exclusive early access.
🔗 Patreon link is in My Profile/About.
⚠️ Please select your membership carefully, as I have multiple novels ongoing.
🍎 If you're on Apple, consider subscribing through your browser instead — it's cheaper for you, and I'll receive payments faster.