Chapter 29: The Wisdom of the Old Grandmother
The allure of pottery and bows and arrows extended the originally planned two-day tribal gathering to three.
With thousands of people gathered, food was a major concern. After reaching a few simple agreements, the various tribes went their separate ways.
The gatherings would continue each year when the apricots ripened, but thanks to the pottery and promises offered by Chen Jian, exchanges between the tribes would gradually increase. The designated trading place, of course, would be the village by the Caohe River.
Many tribes were eager to see what this so-called village and its houses looked like, but the pressures of survival forced them to return to their caves first.
They had learned to make simple bows and arrows and to use throwing stones. With food now sufficient for the near future, they departed full of joy.
When they arrived, their hair had been disheveled; when they returned, it was tied neatly in a bun. They carefully put away the soap Chen Jian had given them, along with their new pottery and clay plates, so as not to break them.
At the same time, they also carried away a little uneasiness. On the final day, Song had recounted the tragedy of his tribe, and the distant Meteorite Tribe made every tribe feel anxious.
Fortunately, Chen Jian had made a promise. As long as everyone acknowledged a common ancestor, Chen Jian's tribe would stand up and provide help if a conflict arose between the tribes that wore their hair in a bun and those that did not.
If they were unable to resist an enemy, they could retreat to the Caohe River. Alternatively, they could let down their hair in submission to the invading tribe—the choice was theirs.
Chen Jian had cleverly used an external threat to transform the hair bun from a matter of aesthetics into a symbol of cultural identity. His words were very clear: his tribe would only help those who identified with their common ancestry—that is, those who wore their hair in a bun. The same condition applied to trading for clay pots; otherwise, he had no obligation to help other tribes.
These tribes had themselves migrated from the direction of the rising sun. In the old grandmother's generation, many of them had been cousins and relatives. Now that they had spread out like branches on a tree, the idea of a common ancestor was easy to accept.
A few weaker tribes wanted to follow the example of Song and Sophora Hua and merge into Chen Jian's tribe, but he refused.
The newly added population already constituted nearly half of his own tribe; any more would be beyond his ability to manage. However, he did promise they could seek help from his people if they faced extreme hunger.
Song had no regrets. Under their primitive moral system, a blood oath was binding. His mother's wailing before her death had been a plea for him to lead their people to survival. Now that his clansmen were living well, he was very satisfied.
Sophora Hua was more cunning. Her thinking was practical: merging with the tribe meant sharing in all its resources. By the time the apricots ripened again next year, there would be many new babies and nursing mothers. Only a strong tribe could guarantee their survival.
And she was very smart. From the calluses on the hands of Chen Jian's people, she knew this way of life was hard-won, not brought by the wind. Start from scratch? She wouldn't be that foolish.
She glanced at the Shitou tribe, who had kept their own name, and thought, *Your hands will soon grow calluses that thick, too!*
Chen Jian did not know what these people were thinking, nor did he want to. As long as the tribe's life continued to improve, all sorts of contradictions could be suppressed.
There were many challenges to face. After a year and a half, with two groups of different origins living together, pair marriages would inevitably appear. Things like love, jealousy, and even murder would be unavoidable, and new conflicts brought about by their new way of life would also accumulate. He wondered if there was a system that could suppress internal conflicts without bloodshed.
After the other tribes had left, Chen Jian led his own people down the mountain toward the saline-alkali land, lost in thought along the way.
The old grandmother saw his troubled expression and asked, "My good boy, what's the matter? Is there a problem you cannot solve?"
Chen Jian didn't know how to explain. He thought for a moment and said, "I know of a ferocious beast that might one day kill our people. But before this beast appears, no one will believe in it. Only after it has killed someone will they see that it exists. I am wondering how I can restrain this beast before it attacks."
The old grandmother laughed heartily at his question, her ancient face creasing into a thousand wrinkles.
Pointing to a plant in the distance, she asked, "Do you know what that is?"
Chen Jian glanced at it. It looked a bit like the tubers they usually ate, but different. He didn't know why she was asking, so he shook his head.
"Child, this plant has tubers beneath it, just like the ones we eat. But these are poisonous. If you eat them, you will die."
Chen Jian bowed his head and listened respectfully, hoping to find an answer in the old grandmother's wisdom.
The old grandmother coughed, looked at the plant, and said, "I was young then, and the tribe had just migrated here. Everyone was starving. To find food, my mother found the kind of tubers we usually eat, but she also found this kind. And so, she died."
"Child, my mother was poisoned to death, but the tribe survived because of the other kind of tuber. They never forgot that this one cannot be eaten. In this way, death is also a form of survival. The beast you speak of will only reveal itself after it has killed one of our people. Once it appears, you can kill it, and the tribe will forever remember the terror of this beast. But if it never shows itself, how can you kill it? And how will the people learn to live with the knowledge of such a beast?"
After finishing, the old grandmother stroked Chen Jian's hair and said softly, "Child, you spoke of the snails by the Caohe River. I ate one, and I did not die, but I know you must have a reason for your warning. It's just that after a long time, someone will eventually forget your words and eat them. Even if your warning is true, it will not be remembered as deeply as a lesson bought with death. Jian, you must remember that death is not terrible, so long as it teaches the tribe something important. Then, it is worthwhile."
Chen Jian looked at the old grandmother, surprised that she had thought of this. She waved her hand. "Go, child. Let me see what kind of life our people will live before I die."
Seeing Chen Jian retreat respectfully, the old grandmother looked at the sky, her gaze distant. She thought of things from her childhood.
When the tribes first migrated here, the elders would test the different plants so the tribe could survive. They did this because the young people could still bear children, while their own lives were nearing their end.
Many old people died, but more young people survived. They remembered the deaths and the plants that could not be eaten, and so the people continued.
This was survival. The old grandmother watched Chen Jian's back and murmured to herself, "Child, you have not yet seen your kin die. Do not be afraid… do not be afraid…"
From a distance, Chen Jian thought he heard the old grandmother's voice. He looked back to see her smile at him and wave for him to go on.
Chen Jian nodded, walked quickly to the front of the column, and looked up at the black-and-white flag. He let go of the childish fantasies that had briefly risen in his heart.
Chen Jian's brow smoothed, and he led his tribe to the saline-alkali land north of the mountain. If life must go on, blood and sweat must be shed.
Blisters burst, soaking their stone hoes and bone plows with blood. They packed large chunks of saline-alkali soil into wicker baskets to carry back.
It was inconvenient to process the salt here, and since it wasn't yet being used as a trade good, they didn't need to produce a large amount.
The clansmen of the Shitou tribe had no tools and stood uncertainly for a moment. Chen Jian signaled for them to work alongside his people, assuring them that the salt would be distributed and their tribe would receive the amount they needed.
Curiously, the Shitou people learned to use the stone hoes and bone plows. When they left, they carried wicker baskets on their backs and looked no different from Chen Jian's own people.
As night fell, the original tribe members were thinking of home and eager to return. The new members, for their part, couldn't wait to see the village.
They lit pine torches, illuminating the night sky as the long line of people snaked like a dragon toward the Caohe River. At this pace, they would reach the village by noon tomorrow.
Several people took turns carrying the wicker baskets, their feet pressing down on the green grass and night dew. The moon in the sky was already full, pushing away the clouds to light the way home.
Home was ahead, and the road stretched out behind.
Looking back, they could see a vague path crushed into the dewy grass, leading back toward the dark mountain peak.
At noon, the sight of white smoke rising from the village made the clansmen quicken their pace.
When they saw the village, the people in the village also saw them and called out greetings from a distance.
Yu Qian'er ran toward them, followed by two little wolf cubs that scampered on their short legs to keep up with their mistress, welcoming the new family members.
She ran up behind Chen Jian and reached out to support the heavy wicker basket on his back, unaware that by concentrating the basket's weight, she was only making his burden heavier.
Chen Jian simply took a deep breath, straightened his back with all his might, and didn't tell his sister the truth.
"Brother, brother! Have the new family members arrived? We heated the kang, and we're waiting for you to come back. There's hot water in the pottery basin with salt in it, but I accidentally added too much. It's very salty."
She held firmly to the bottom of the basket and chattered on, "Also, a civet cat came to catch one of the ground-birds last night, but the little wolves chased it away. I chased it for a long time. It had a long tail, and it tried to bite me!"
These were trivial matters, but the clansmen nearby listened with great interest, asking about the size of the civet cat.
"Brother, my aunts and I weeded the yard and carried back stones in wicker baskets to pave it all over. We put sand from the river on top, so it's soft to step on, just like grass. Oh, and by the way, I caught fish in a wicker basket last night. There was a beautiful red one, so I put it in the pond. I saw it swimming this morning! You have to go see it later, it even has a beard."
The old grandmother walked over to Yu Qian'er, gently took her by her braids, and pulled her aside, not telling her that she was making her brother's load even more tiring. She asked her about other things, and the little girl's chattering finally stopped.
Chen Jian pointed to a row of houses ahead and said to the newcomers, "That is our home. Go, go see our home. You can put the baskets down here."
The new people couldn't wait. They set down their baskets and rushed toward the houses like rabbits to gaze up at them.
They stepped on the fine river sand, stood by the pool looking at the tips of lotus leaves poking through the water, and marveled at the fish swimming within.
Shitou's little daughter held her father's hand and pointed him toward a string of ceramic wind chimes hanging from a roof.
Beneath the thatched eaves, near the wind chimes, two black swallows were daubing mud to build their new home.
"Dad, look, those birds are building their nests."
Shitou raised his head and looked curiously at the string of shining pottery shards. The sun was a little dizzying, and he shielded his eyes with his hand to see the two black swallows clearly.
He picked up his daughter, pointed to the swallows, and said, "Yes. And we are going to build our own nest, too."
"Will it be the same as these houses? With the jingly thing?"
Shitou was stunned for a moment, then glanced back at Chen Jian. He had no idea why that thing made a tinkling sound in the wind.
Chen Jian walked over, picked up the little girl, and said, "Yes, it will have the jingly thing, and it will be just like these houses."
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