Chapter 38: Beauty
Outsiders couldn't possibly imagine how the tribe lived now, nor could they fathom the amount of sweat their new life required.
On this day in the month of the peach moon, the sun burned like a pottery kiln, constantly drawing moisture from the body. The blades of grass and tree branches lay listlessly on the ground, and even the cicadas' cries sounded muffled as if coming from behind a wall.
Chen Jian longed to wipe the sweat from his face with a towel, but he had none. He used the back of his hand instead, and the stinging moisture ran into his eyes.
Pine straightened up beside him, pointed to a small tree not far away, and said, "Jian, let's rest there."
Chen Jian leaned on his long-handled stone scythe and shaded his eyes with his hand. He looked at the steam-distorted air, nodded, and shouted to the dozens of people working, "Let's go over there to rest and drink some water."
Behind them was a wide swath of cut grass that stretched from the black-and-white flag at the village entrance. The air was filled with the unique, faint fragrance of grass juice.
If they were to become a farming people, the land had to be cultivated. Even slash-and-burn agriculture was not easy; trying to set fire to the fields in the middle of summer would accomplish nothing.
Their only option was to lead the tribe in mowing down the chest-high grass with long-handled stone scythes, letting it bake in the sun, and then setting it ablaze.
This accomplished two things: it killed the insects, and the resulting plant ash was their only source of potassium fertilizer. Potassium fertilizer is easily soluble in water; mineral deposits of it only form in desert areas, which were out of the question for them now.
The land he had chosen was near the outskirts of the village, not too far away. The stems and leaves of crops would be a great temptation for herbivores, who wouldn't care that the tribe had poured their sweat into the fields—only that they were tasty and sweet.
The outskirts of the village were mostly a meadow, with fertile soil and few trees, which was perfect for their purpose.
The woods were not a good option. They could only be cleared by slash-and-burn, and after a few years of planting, the land would lose its fertility and have to be abandoned. The tree roots made it impossible to form proper ridges for planting; the only method was broadcast sowing.
The result of broadcast sowing was a yield of three grains for every one planted. To feed everyone in the village, they would need at least six to seven thousand mu of land. The scale was staggering—an area of four million square meters, a square two kilometers long and two kilometers wide.
Looking around, there was plenty of good soil, but Chen Jian hoped to accomplish two goals at once. It was necessary to burn the wasteland on a large scale to prepare for shortages, but he also wanted to cultivate the land intensively to produce some high-yield fertile fields as soon as possible.
With no cattle, they could only wait for the fire and then break the ground with stone hoes, which was bound to be inefficient.
But seeing is one thing, and doing is another. There was nothing he couldn't accomplish.
The power of people was far stronger than he imagined. He remembered reading about the land reclamation at Nanniwan, where one man with a hoe had managed to clear five mu of land in a single day. On a hot day like this, a cow, worked to exhaustion, would only be twice as efficient. When the heat became too much, a cow would simply lie down and refuse to move, even kicking at you if you pushed it.
Chen Jian felt that neither he nor his clansmen could compare to those incredible men, and they didn't have the same quality tools. Still, it was certainly possible for a strong man to clear seven or eight-tenths of a mu in a day.
With a hundred people, they could clear seventy to eighty mu of land daily. There were still two or three months before the autumn sowing. Factoring in days for rain, firing bricks, digging kilns, and rest, they should be able to prepare a thousand mu of land by then.
Most importantly, once cleared, the fields were a permanent asset. With struvite and plant ash, the yield per mu should reach sixty to seventy catties.
Moreover, the grass here wasn't the kind with tangled, thorny roots. The soil could be turned directly with a hoe, and with bone plows to help, it wouldn't be that difficult.
Lost in thought, he swung his stone scythe vigorously. The tree wasn't far, but it felt as if he would never reach it.
He tried his best to mobilize everyone's enthusiasm, starting conversations to distract them from their labor. When they finally reached the shade of the tree, everyone collapsed, half-lying on the ground, oblivious to the buzzing gadflies and horseflies.
He had no work gloves, and he could feel blood blisters forming on his palms. Chen Jian lanced one with a thorn, panting heavily.
A few men lay down by the nearby creek, dunking their heads into the water like animals. They drank and drank until their stomachs sloshed, and a belch would bring water back up.
Wolf Skin shook out his hands and asked, "Jian, how much more grass do we need to mow?"
"Yeah."
Hearing this, the other clansmen gathered around. They had heard from Chen Jian that they were going to plant a kind of grass that was said to provide enough food for everyone.
Although they were tired of eating fish, they would still rather eat fish than do this work.
"Jian, we have enough to eat now. We can hunt, fish, and catch more cubs to raise. Why do we have to do all this mowing?"
Chen Jian lay in the shade of the tree and said with a smile, "Are you all tired?"
Wolf Skin smiled shyly. "Yes."
"Then why didn't I hear you asking all these questions when we were building the houses?"
"Building a house is different. You work with mud one day, and the next day you can see the house is as tall as I am. But mowing grass? When will we see the results of this?"
He scratched his head and continued, "I'm not afraid of being tired. It's about as tiring as hunting. It's just... when you're hunting, you can see the deer and sheep right in front of you. With this, all I see is more grass. And look how much there is! Do we really have to cut it all?"
Indeed, they had been mowing for two days, and the clansmen had no idea when it would end. More importantly, they hadn't yet seen any benefit from planting.
They all looked to Chen Jian, awaiting his answer. He visually estimated their progress; they had cleared a lot in two days. In fact, another two days of mowing would be enough. These fields, destined for intensive cultivation, needed to be prepared in advance. As for the lands intended for rougher slash-and-burn, there was still time to clear them after autumn arrived.
Humans weren't machines; they couldn't be expected to execute orders meticulously without understanding. It was remarkable they had kept their spirits up for three days.
Putting himself in their shoes, Chen Jian felt that if he didn't know the benefits of farming, he probably wouldn't have lasted two days himself.
He stood up, looked into the distance, and pointed to a small tree not too far away. "Alright, this afternoon, we'll work to that tree. Whoever finishes their section can go back and rest first. We'll line up when the sun sets."
The clansmen followed his finger. The tree wasn't far, and the distance was much shorter than what they had already cut. The only thing they didn't understand was the idea of finishing and resting. Wasn't this work for everyone?
But then they thought it over and it made sense. Since it was everyone's work, everyone should do the same amount. They would all start from here, and the work was done when the grass was cut to the tree.
The thought of soaking comfortably in the river after work was very appealing. A little apricot wine would make it even better, but unfortunately, Chen Jian had forbidden them from drinking it.
The distance wasn't too great. A few men with better stamina had already stood up and started cutting with their scythes. The rest decided to relax a little longer. At least now they had a clear goal, which felt much better than facing a task with no end in sight.
Some people worked fast, others slow. In primitive society, absolute egalitarianism was often the only way, because there was nothing to offer as a reward. The few good things available were daily necessities, not means of production, and were awarded as sparingly as precious treasures.
As long as everyone did roughly the same amount of work, low efficiency was acceptable. They had enough time.
After next year's harvest, the clansmen's enthusiasm would surely be high. But without that hope, without a clear vision, everyone would fall into a sense of powerlessness.
Chen Jian rested a moment longer. The first few tribesmen had already cut down a large area, and the others began to follow.
"Keep up, Jian! I'll finish early and wait for you to play the flute!" Song shouted from ahead.
Chen Jian followed with his stone scythe, swinging his arms vigorously. The stone was already dyed green from the grass.
After a few swings, he heard a faint cry. Looking down, he saw that a small bird nesting in the grass had been struck by his stone blade.
He knelt and picked up the little thing. It hadn't even grown its feathers yet. Struck by disaster from above, it was clearly not going to survive.
Pinkish blood trickled from its pale yellow beak. Its body twitched slightly as it stared at Chen Jian with wide eyes.
He sighed. He had killed many deer and several pigs, but holding this fluffy little creature in his hand still touched a soft spot in his heart.
Just as he was about to dig a hole to bury it, he heard Yuqian'er's cry from behind him. Chen Jian quickly tossed the little bird far into the cut grass, not wanting his sister to see it. The sight would have touched a part of her heart that was far softer than his own.
"Brother, brother! Mother sent me to tell you to come back. They dug up a lot of leeks, onions, gourds, and mustard greens. I saw that they dug them all up by the root, just like you said. She wants you to come back and see how to plant them."
"Alright!"
Chen Jian shouted to the men in front, "Head back and rest after you're done cutting!"
The clansmen turned and waved at him. He put down his scythe and followed Yuqian'er back to the village.
The uprooted vegetables lay with their heads drooping listlessly. A patch of land at the edge of the village had been tilled for a vegetable garden.
They used bone plows to dig up the earth, buried the slender, dense roots of the leeks, and then had people firm the soil with their feet before watering it from earthenware pots.
Leeks were resilient. As long as the roots were alive, they would grow year after year, crop after crop—like the barricades of 19th-century Paris from his previous life, seemingly indestructible.
They dug a trench with a hoe for the onions, placing them at an angle and burying them up to the white part before packing the soil down firmly.
The gourds were transplanted near the eating shed and around the houses, where they could climb the wooden structures. In the future, they would provide natural shade.
The cultivation was simple, but the effect was profound. Yuqian'er looked at the straight vegetable beds, which had the exact sense of order she loved. Her eyes curved into crescent moons as she carefully watered the plants with a clay pot, straightening any that were crooked.
After they finished, the group from the mountain returned, carrying their stone scythes. They didn't trickle back one by one but arrived all together.
Song shouted to Chen Jian from a distance, "We finished it all! There was just a little left to cut. That Stone Civet Cat runs fast, but he sure is slow at mowing grass. The rest of us cut your share in a few strokes, but he still wasn't done, so we helped him finish."
Stone Civet Cat raised his hand with an aggrieved look. "The handle of my scythe has a lump on it, and it wore out my hand..."
He held up his hand, revealing a large blood blister. But while his expression was one of complaint, his tone held a hint of pride.
He deliberately angled his hand to show off the blister to Lancao, who was watering the vegetables nearby.
That blood blister was not a mark of injury. It was beautiful.
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