Chapter 65: Mother Chen
After nearly eight days of labor, they finally completed the sowing before the first autumn rain. The other tribes had already departed for their homes, taking with them the new method of planting and a shared doubt—could this technique really guarantee their tribe's food supply for the future?
After the autumn rain, the black swallows flew away. After perching on the two ropes one last time, they vanished overnight. Sometimes a V-formation of wild geese would fly overhead, their loud calls announcing the coming cold. Their cries always drew an echo from the tribe's domesticated geese, whose clipped wings unfortunately kept them from joining the flight.
From the day the seeds were planted, the first thing the clansmen did every morning was to check if they had sprouted. The children took up small bows and arrows, wandering the edges of the wheat fields to shoot any birds that tried to eat the seeds.
Two scarecrows, dressed in fiber cloth, stood guard over the fields. Tied to them were broken pottery shards that jingled at the slightest movement in the grass, scaring off the lazy, non-migratory resident birds that loved to steal seeds.
All their hopes lay in that plot of land; for more than a thousand years to come, it would be the most important hope for most of humanity.
When the green shoots finally pushed through the soil, the clansmen breathed a collective sigh of relief. Seeing the neat rows of wheat seedlings, no one was happier than Yu Qian'er, who left a string of bare footprints in the soft earth of the field.
Chen Jian, however, was not satisfied. He had sown a great deal but knew he might not reap much. In his previous life, with the support of advanced fertilizers, yields per mu could reach seven to eight hundred catties. Now, with only a little struvite for fertilizer, he would be lucky to harvest fifty catties per mu. The land here was fairly fertile, but it was a shame it wasn't an alluvial plain. The Grass River didn't carry nutrient-rich silt from upstream like the Yellow River did.
The influence of geography was immense. Chen Jian estimated that if his tribe lived near a floodplain or a river delta, they would have developed agriculture long ago. There was a saying in his past life from Southwest Shandong: "In Dongpingzhou, nine years out of ten there is no harvest, but a single good year can feed all of Kyushu." That good year depended entirely on the Yellow River flooding. In the silt left behind, wheat could be scattered casually without any fertilizer and still produce four to five hundred catties per mu the following year. Ancient Egyptian agriculture operated on a similar principle: after the Nile flooded, seeds were dropped into the mud, requiring no weeding and having ample nutrients.
Lacking such conditions, they could only rely on planting wheat and peas densely enough to block the sun, causing the weeds to rot. To turn this raw land into mature, arable soil would take two or three years of painstaking manual farming.
He had tried to use the horned deer for plowing in place of horses or oxen, but the animals refused. Their necks and chests were not built to support a harness properly. An ox plows by the strength of its thick neck, and a horse by its powerful chest. The horned deer had neither, nor did they have the stamina. After pulling the wooden roller for a few dozen turns, they would lie down and refuse to move.
But if they couldn't be used for farming, they couldn't be left idle all day, barking and trying to mount the does. They had to be made useful.
So, he built a few simple grass sledges. On the slick grass after an autumn rain, three horned deer could drag a sledge loaded with a decent amount of goods. The sledges were easy to make. Two pieces of wood were bent with fire, their bark scraped off and smoothed. Two crossbars were then fitted using a mortise and tenon structure to hold them together. A horned deer could pull this easily. It would work even better in snow, but it slid well enough on damp grass.
Using these simple sledges, they hauled back a large quantity of limestone from a distance, which they burned into quicklime in their new brick kiln. The tribesmen also used the sledges or carried wicker baskets on their backs to collect acorns from the mountains. The acorns littered the ground, looking a bit like chestnuts, but they were smaller and tasted very different.
After planting the winter wheat, the women began to spin twine. With simple, primitive spinning wheels and unskilled fingers, they pulled out the fibers bit by bit. At first, a thread would break after only a foot, but eventually, they could spin continuous lengths of several feet.
With thread, they could weave simple cloth, a process the women of the clan already had some experience with. After the first batch of simple linen was woven, the women touched the soft fabric, feeling the unique, slightly coarse texture of the nettle fibers. They finally felt it was worth the effort of peeling the smelly, rotted hemp stalks. Even the marks the fibers had left on their fingertips seemed to hurt a little less.
They desperately wanted to make coats. The mornings and nights were getting cold, but the afternoons were still hot. Wearing animal skins often caused heat rash, and the river was now too chilly for bathing, which the old grandmother forbade for pregnant women anyway.
However, Chen Jian, with a stern expression, confiscated the first batch of linen from the women. He used it to sew a few simple robes with the lapels crossed to the right. They were crudely stitched and didn't even have proper sleeves. The style was ridiculously simple, but to the eyes of tribesmen who had never seen formal textiles, it was extraordinary. A piece of clothing that wouldn't have even qualified as a diaper in his past life was passed between several people, who examined it carefully, though they were not allowed to wear it.
Chen Jian planned to use these first few pieces of clothing for decoration and cultural export.
He estimated that by now, the people of the allied tribes had been eating acorns for over half a month and were likely suffering from abdominal distension, vomiting, and indigestion. He remembered his own tribe often suffering from the same issues in the past. Even a wild boar, with its iron stomach, could swell up and die from eating too many acorns, let alone a person. In his past life, during the Japanese occupation, Chinese people who couldn't get rice or white flour were rationed acorn flour, and countless people died of swelling each year.
Chen Jian decided to take the quicklime, along with roasted malt, hawthorn, vinegar, and potash crystals derived from plant ash, and have a few of his tribesmen, dressed in the new clothes, appear at the gates of the other tribes like a miracle.
Soaking acorns in limewater would leach out the bitterness and tannins, preventing the painful swelling. Roasted malt and hawthorn aided digestion, while the potassium carbonate in plant ash would neutralize stomach acid and help break up tannic acid stones. The vinegar was for pregnant women in the other tribes, and a collection of dried herbs, gathered by Song under Chen Jian's guidance, could prevent and treat some common illnesses.
To deliberately create a shocking effect, Chen Jian had his men wash the horned deer's fur early that morning. They decorated the grass sledges with autumn chrysanthemums and cypress leaves, and even tied strange toys to the deer's antlers. Lastly, they carefully painted a black-and-white bear flag featuring a yin-and-yang symbol.
The few men selected for the mission all wore the new clothes. The robes were wrinkled and had large gaps in the seams, but to those who were staying behind, they were a wondrous sight. The flag stood proudly on the first grass sledge. Chen Jian planned not only to visit the allied tribes but also to send envoys to more distant tribes they had never contacted. He guessed that most tribes living in the same latitude would be facing the same problem with acorns.
Flags, myths, medicine, strange grass sledges, majestic horned deer, coiffed hair, proper clothes, the guidance of ancestors, the curing of disease... When all of this appeared before the eyes of those wild tribes, and when his men cured their people's bloating, they would be seen as gods!
The myth of the ancestor he had fabricated would spread far and wide, laying the groundwork for expanding his cultural circle in the future. This was his tribe's greatest advantage, and he had to make good use of it.
After washing up, Chen Jian was loading a basket of quicklime powder onto a sledge when he felt a slight tug on his new clothes. He looked back to see his sister, her face a mask of misery.
"What happened?" he asked casually, assuming she had been arguing with the younger children again. He and Song continued loading the lime.
Yu Qian'er gently pulled his arm again. "Brother," she whispered, "my stomach hurts..."
"Oh. I'll have Song bring you some herbs to boil. Did you catch a cold? Or do you want some caramel? There's really no more this time, we'll have to wait until after the wheat harvest..."
Yu Qian'er glanced nervously at Song, a hint of annoyance in her eyes, and tugged Chen Jian's arm harder. For the past few days, she had felt unwell, as if a cold stone were weighing down her belly. Sometimes there was a dull ache. She thought she had eaten something bad, but the feeling persisted, and her small breasts were also a little swollen and uncomfortable.
When she had gone to relieve herself that morning, she was terrified. Convinced she was dying, she hid from the others, not even going to the wheat field. Anxious and confused, she hid for the entire morning until, in a panic, she remembered that her brother knew everything.
After a long hesitation, she whispered a few words into Chen Jian's ear. He froze. The lime in his hand fell to the ground with a soft thud.
"Brother, am I going to die?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Chen Jian covered his forehead. *What am I supposed to say to this?* he thought.
After a long pause, he finally managed to comfort her. "It's okay."
"But..."
Yu Qian'er started to say more, but Chen Jian turned her around, pointed to a few women in the distance, and said, "Go ask them! Don't ask me..." Before she could reply, he covered his ears and muttered something unintelligible, but she just pushed him away.
Yu Qian'er pouted. Knowing she wasn't going to die made her feel much more relaxed, but she was still a little angry. *Fine, if I don't ask you, I won't ask you,* she thought resentfully. *I won't ask you ever again. See if I care if my stomach hurts. You just drive me away, and you call yourself my brother...*
Chen Jian watched her retreating back and thought that his reputation was about to be ruined by a name from his past life. In the Ming and Song dynasties, sanitary napkins were called "Mother Chen" or "Grandma Chen." He had no idea how such a strange name came about. His surname in this life certainly wasn't Chen, but it seemed he was destined to have something to do with this item.
Ordinarily, it would be nothing. Both animals and humans menstruated. But most animals became pregnant before their first cycle, so it wasn't apparent. Humans were different. From once a year to once a month, women had to go through it. The problem was that, logically, the first inventor of a sanitary pad must have been a woman. But in this world, it had to be him.
He told the departing group to wait for a moment, then went back and asked one of the women for a piece of linen. He sewed it into a small pouch, filled it with sterile plant ash, and attached two strings so it could be tied to a waist rope. Then, covering his face, he found a few women from the Shi-surnamed tribe.
There were strict taboos between men and women of the same clan, so he couldn't possibly discuss this with his aunts and cousins. Fortunately, there were no such taboos with women of a different surname; interactions could be open and casual. The shyness was reserved only for one's own kin.
The women understood immediately. They chattered around him, some teasing him with other questions, others glancing at him knowingly, but their hearts were full of admiration. In the past, they could only use grass blades. *Could it be that Jian has already known a woman? Who is she?*
Chen Jian said with a pained expression, "You can tell the other sisters, but don't say I told you. Just say you came up with it yourselves."
"Alright," one of them smirked. "But you have to give us a claw comb. And why don't you come with me to the woods to play?"
The woman teased him mercilessly. "A comb, a comb..." Chen Jian stammered hastily.
He did not want his second life's legacy to include a legend, many years from now, that read: Jian not only invented bows and arrows, made pottery, and built houses... but he also invented the sanitary napkin! Guan Zhong had established a system of prostitution and became the patron patriarch of brothels, worshipped daily by those women. Who knew how myths would be passed down to later generations? If, thousands of years from now, the packaging for sanitary pads featured his portrait, the image would be... just picturesque!
*Whoever wants that legend can have it,* he thought. *I certainly don't.*
With that, he jumped onto the grass sledge. Just as he was about to leave, Yu Qian'er, who had planned not to speak to him again, ran over and tucked a ball of hay into the front of his robe.
"It's cold in the morning, so cover your heart. Brother, come back early."
She had already forgotten her earlier anger.
Chapter 66 A Cure for Bitterness
On the slippery grassland after an autumn rain, Chen Jian drove a reluctant horned deer, which pulled one of seven or eight grass sledges. The clansmen who came with him followed his example, also reluctant to sit on the sledges, as they didn't want to tire the animals.
"Jian, are we giving these things to them this time? Or are we trading?" Song asked, catching up to the front.
Before Chen Jian could answer, Wolf Skin hurried to say, "There's nothing to trade for. We have everything they have. What I want to trade for now is people. We need to exchange for a bunch of people to get the land on the other side of the Cao River tilled so we can grow wheat."
He missed the taste of wheat rice, though it would be even better without the yellow bran on the outside.
Chen Jian stopped his horned deer and called all the clansmen over to take a rest and discuss their plans.
"This time, let's go to our sworn tribe first. We must give these things to them, but we can't tell them how to make the lime."
Several of the men nodded. They had already tasted the benefits from their previous exchanges. If other tribes also had pottery wheels, their own pots would no longer be able to command a price of pigs and sheep.
They figured Jian was applying the same logic as last time: you must have bait to go fishing. Chen Jian didn't explain his exact intentions, and he probably couldn't have explained them fully anyway, so he left them to their own conclusions.
The amount of lime on the grass sledges wasn't large, but it was enough for these tribes to process acorns for more than half a month. There would be a tribal assembly after that, and they could talk more then.
"By the way, besides our sworn tribe, we should go to other places. They must also be suffering from swelling and pain from eating acorns. Who wants to go? I need to stay in the village; I have other things to do."
A few of the men shook their heads, while a few others looked eager. They were tired of staying in the village digging earth and hauling bricks and would rather face the beasts on the road.
Song thought for a moment and said, "I'll go. I'll head in the direction of the rising sun first. The people there know me. As long as I avoid the Meteor tribe, I'll be fine. And there's a tribe there that can cure toothaches. During one assembly, I had a toothache, and they gave me a small gourd the size of a goose egg filled with hemp seeds. The outer skin tasted good, and after I chewed it, my tooth stopped hurting. Many people in our tribe have toothaches now. I want to see what kind of plant that is."
His long-cherished wish was to prevent his people from dying, whether from illness or hunger. Now he was learning to identify herbs step by step, observing what animals ate when they were injured. Thinking of that little gourd that cured toothaches, he felt there was something he could do for his people.
"Alright, then you go. When we get back to the village, you can prepare and bring a few more people. You must wear good clothes, comb your hair, and carry our ancestor's flag. When you get there, don't exchange anything. Just give them the lime and tell more stories about the protection of the ancestors. If they ask how we're living now, don't tell them."
Song was a little puzzled, but he nodded in agreement.
Chen Jian stood up, straightened his clothes and hair, and pointed to the mountains in the distance. "Civet Cat, how far are we from that tribe?"
"We'll be there before lunch."
"Then let's go. Tell me when we're getting close. Everyone needs to stop and freshen up."
***
More than ten miles away, outside a cave dwelling, the tribe's leader was leading a few people to inspect the newly germinated sprouts. She checked every day to see if they had grown taller.
Everyone in the tribe knew that the wheat and beans would only bear fruit when they were waist-high. A few clansmen had cleverly tried to help by pulling up some wheat seedlings with their hands, and for a day, they were indeed much taller than the others. They were so excited, right up until the seedlings died a few days later.
The leader scolded them severely and planned to warn the other tribes at the assembly in half a month not to "help" the wheat grow by pulling on it.
Almost every agricultural people feels anxious after their first planting, filled with all sorts of fantasies that lead to stunting the seedlings with excessive zeal, and this tribe was no exception.
Although they were still doubtful that these wheat and bean plants would truly change their lives as Chen Jian had said, countless hopes had also arisen alongside their doubts. They had eaten enough bitter acorns, and the memory of the wheat rice they'd tasted in Jian's village made them yearn for it.
Right now, a few people in the clan were suffering from severe constipation, and several children had swollen stomachs, telling their mothers every day that their bellies hurt. Though the mothers were distressed, there was nothing they could do but rub their children's bellies, hoping to ease their suffering.
Hearing the children's pained voices, the leader could only tell them over and over again, "Just get through the snow, and we can eat wheat rice when the apricots are yellow. This is how we've always survived. It won't cause bloating when you eat it."
The children savored the memory of the wheat rice, swallowed, and asked, "Grandma, do brother Jian and his tribe eat acorns too? Do they get bloated?"
The leader was stunned for a moment. She looked up into the distance subconsciously and muttered to herself, "Yes, Jian and his tribe also eat acorns... They have the guidance of their ancestors. Would the ancestors tell them how not to get bloated?"
The moment she looked up, she saw a few horned deer faintly appear in the grassland in the distance, followed by several people walking toward them.
She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, so she rubbed them. But a few sharp-eyed children had already seen the flag at the front and shouted excitedly, "It's brother Jian's flag!"
The leader's heart leaped. She pulled the children close and said, "That's not brother Jian's flag. It's our flag. Those are our ancestors."
The children agreed without really understanding and rushed over, hoping to get a piece of caramel from Chen Jian.
When they reached the group, they became more curious about the grass sledges and forgot all about the caramel. A few bold children asked, "Brother Jian, can we sit on it?"
Chen Jian laughed and lifted the children onto the sledges. The children sat there, looking at the two tracks the sledges left on the grass, thrilled by the ride.
The leader hurried over with her clansmen. She greeted Chen Jian first, then her eyes were drawn to the clothes his people were wearing.
Noticing the envious gazes, the tribesmen with Chen Jian naturally stood taller, their chests puffed out, as if standing in formation.
The local tribe members wanted to reach out and touch the clothes but were afraid their hands would stain the fine material. They stood at a loss, wanting to ask but not daring to.
The leader had the playful children get off the sledges and led Chen Jian's group into the cave.
This was Chen Jian's first visit to another tribe. Remembering the rules from the last assembly, the leader naturally brought out her best food. After some thought, she decided against serving acorns and brought out dried fish instead. The pigs were still precious, and she was reluctant to slaughter one.
Chen Jian had some of his people bring down a few baskets of supplies. The tribe looked on curiously, thinking it was some delicacy, but when they opened the baskets, they found a white powder that smelled strange and didn't look appetizing.
Only a jar of apricot vinegar attracted the favor of the women. They had tasted it in the village last time and had craved it ever since, but they had none in their own tribe. With the need to prepare for winter, they didn't have much to trade, so they had to restrain themselves.
Chen Jian took out a few baked pottery sheep for the children to play with, then asked casually, "Are the acorns you're eating bitter?"
His words immediately struck a chord.
"Bitter and astringent."
"After eating too much, I can't relieve myself. It gets so bad I need someone to help me with a wooden stick. It hurts..."
"It's been like this every year. They're no sweeter this year."
"Jian, does your tribe also eat these bitter acorns?"
Chen Jian smiled. "Ours were bitter too, originally. But our ancestors guided us and told us there is a way to make acorns not bitter, and we won't feel bloated after eating them."
"Really?"
The leader stood up excitedly, her eyes burning as she looked at Chen Jian, desperate to know this method. This was truly important; so many of her clan members had to endure such suffering every year.
Excited shouts erupted from the side. They didn't question if it was true, because they felt that since he spoke so confidently, it must be possible. They had already seen too many unimaginable things from him.
Someone had already brought over some smashed acorns and asked what to do.
Chen Jian took some of the quicklime and added it to water in a large pottery basin. The quicklime gave off heat as it reacted with the water, and soon it was boiling. The people watched in amazement, marveling at water that could boil without fire.
After the lime water cleared, Chen Jian had them soak the smashed acorns in the skimmed liquid. The solubility of calcium hydroxide is very low, so the slaked lime solution could be reused. He told them to soak the acorns for half a day, repeating the process six or seven times to get rid of the bitterness.
Chen Jian waited there for two days. He gave some plant ash crystals to those suffering from acid reflux; the potassium carbonate in them could relieve hyperacidity. Of course, baking soda would be best, but he didn't have the ability to make it yet, and he figured the plant ash probably wouldn't kill anyone.
For those who had bloating but no acid reflux, he had them boil water with fried malt, hawthorn, bitter almonds, and peony root. These were all things that promoted digestion. They probably wouldn't kill anyone either, and the effect might just be slower. However, the main thing was to reduce the amount of tannin from the acorns, and these symptoms would gradually improve.
Two days later, the clansmen carefully washed the soaked acorns and cooked a meal with an almost religious reverence.
When the acorn meal was cooked, the leader pinched off a little bit first. She tasted it, and then her eyes lit up. "It's really not that bitter!"
She had already come to believe Chen Jian's method after seeing how the plant ash solution had relieved the clansmen suffering from acid reflux. Now that she had tasted it herself, she shouted it out to make her people happy and to express the joy in her own heart.
The clansmen gathered around, each taking a piece and chewing it carefully before letting out sighs of admiration. It wasn't delicious, but at least it was far less bitter.
Someone shouted, "We won't be afraid of eating acorns anymore!"
The others cheered. Chen Jian shook his head with a smile, pointed out of the cave, and said, "No. It's not that we are no longer afraid of eating acorns, but that we will no longer need to eat acorns."
The cheering people paused, slightly stunned. Then they thought of the sprouts that had begun to grow in their field. Their hearts filled with a new excitement, and they shouted even louder.
"Yes! We will never eat acorns again!"
Chapter 67 The first encounter of the sexes
For a farming people, to be reduced to eating acorns meant one of three things: war, famine, or the misery of being subjugated by another tribe.
Although Chen Jian spoke with pride, he knew that a future where no one had to eat acorns was still just a beautiful dream.
He recalled Pi Rixiu, a talented scholar from the late Tang Dynasty, who had once written a lament about acorns: "Acorns ripen in deep autumn, scattered among hazel and thorn. With hair unbound, the women gather them, from dawn's first frost till morn. Day after day their baskets fill, a meager, bitter prize. Steamed and dried again and again, their winter food supply..."
Chen Jian mused that perhaps even that scholar, a man of the establishment who had once served as a high official (Grand Master for Court Ceremonies), had dreamed of a world where people no longer had to eat acorns. Perhaps that was why he eventually joined the notoriously unreliable Huang Chao Rebellion.
In Chen Jian's eyes, his "world" was a hundred-mile radius with a population of just over a thousand. Within this small world, at least, he might be able to keep his people from having to eat acorns.
He had known from the start what relying on acorns signified, but he also remembered what his old grandmother had said: only those who have experienced pain can truly know the value of happiness. Those who prevent suffering before it happens are often forgotten. In any case, after a winter of subsisting on acorns, these tribes would surely remember him and the guidance of their ancestors.
The black and white flag fluttering in the wind, and the strange clothes his people wore, would become symbols of hope in times of suffering. That was enough.
After sharing the meal of specially prepared, non-bitter acorns, Chen Jian and his clansmen rose to leave.
The tribe's leader begged them to stay another day, promising to slaughter their fattest sheep for a feast.
"There's no need," Chen Jian said. "Since we share the same ancestors, their greatest wish is for us to prosper. Just remember that this prosperity comes from their protection."
The leader nodded emphatically, vowing never to forget, and turned to have the sheep killed anyway. Chen Jian didn't stop her. He spoke briefly with the children in the cave, then led his people away, shouting from a distance for them to save the sheep for themselves.
The leader hurried back from the sheepfold, babbling to her people about why they hadn't stopped him. Her eyes scanned the cave until she found what she was looking for: a few pieces of jerky she had been saving. She summoned the best young men of the clan, ordering them to mount their horned deer and chase after Chen Jian's party. The young men solemnly mounted up, quickly caught up to them, and stuffed the precious dried meat into a wicker basket on their grass sledge.
The leader stood at the entrance of the cave, watching Chen Jian's party and their flag until they disappeared into the distance.
A child stood beside her, looked up, and asked, "Grandmother, the ancestors will always protect us, right?"
She kindly stroked the child's small braids, nodding. "Yes, they will always protect us."
"Then when are we going to the village? I really want to go. I miss Mother and... and you..."
The leader looked at the nine-year-old child, sniffed the scent of thawing earth on the breeze, and picked him up. "When the apricots are yellow, we'll all go together and live in the village. You'll be able to play there and see your mother and me every day."
The child cheered. "We're not living here anymore?"
"No. When the apricots turn yellow, we'll move. We'll live in real houses and never have to eat acorns again."
Similar conversations echoed through the mountain caves. Every tribe Chen Jian had visited was now discussing the move.
This time, Chen Jian hadn't said a word about them moving out of the mountains; he hadn't even brought up the topic. His help was like a fire lit in the snow, bringing warmth when they were at their coldest. This seemingly casual act of kindness burned away the last of their doubts.
Except for staying two days with the first tribe to observe the effects, he had come and gone quickly from the rest. Time was short. In eight days, he had visited ten tribes, delivering simple medicines and earning their trust. The black and white flag was now firmly planted in their hearts.
By his calculations, he had seven or eight days left to prepare for the punishment of the disloyal tribes. He had to get ready as soon as he returned.
On the way back, Chen Jian continuously briefed Songlai on what to say when visiting the other tribes, trying to summarize all the simple remedies for minor ailments he knew.
Songlai committed it all to memory, sensing the great importance Chen Jian placed on this mission.
"Get ready as soon as we return and set out quickly," Chen Jian instructed. "You won't need to participate in punishing the other tribes. And take a few women with you. There are some things that are easier for women to discuss."
That said, finding an available woman was difficult. Almost every adult woman in the clan was pregnant. It seemed Chen Jian would be gaining quite a few new "brothers" and "sisters" next year.
As he neared the village, he saw his cousin Lancao fetching water. He waved her over.
It had been four or five months since the apricot harvest, and Lancao was clearly not pregnant—a personal choice.
Lancao brushed her hair back and walked over. Before Chen Jian could speak, she announced, "Brother, you're back just in time. I have something to tell you. I'm pregnant."
Several nearby clansmen chuckled. Chen Jian smiled. "That's wonderful news! Another child for the clan. Does the old grandmother know? Does our family know?"
"They know," she said. "We were waiting for you to get back."
Chen Jian was puzzled. A woman's pregnancy was always a cause for celebration, even if the father was unknown. Why the strange atmosphere?
After a moment's thought, he asked, "Is the child from the Shi clan?"
Lancao nodded, gesturing toward several men of the Shi clan working in the distance. "It's either his, his, or his. Anyway, it's one of those three. One is handsome, another made me a wreath and plays the bone flute, and the third is a very fast worker. I don't know which one it is for sure, but it has to be one of them. They are the only three I thought were good enough."
Chen Jian's heart leaped. He slapped his thigh in delight, asking excitedly, "And they fought over you?"
Lancao looked at him, baffled. "Fought over me? Why would they fight?"
"They didn't? Then why were you all waiting for me?"
Lancao frowned. "Shitou and the old grandmother have been discussing it. It's not just me. Some of their women are pregnant with children from our clan, too. Those three men... they want the child to know they are its father, its bloodline. Even if they don't know exactly which of them it is, they know it's one of them. They feel that half of the child now belongs to their tribe."
Chen Jian reacted instinctively. "What do you mean? They want the child? That's not how it works!"
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how much he had been assimilated by the era's customs. The protest had been subconscious, and he immediately knew he was wrong to think so simply.
He hurried into the main dwelling, where several elders were already sitting, debating the issue.
In the past, every tribal matter was handled according to ancestral experience. But now, more and more, that experience was proving insufficient. They couldn't even resolve the problem at hand.
According to the ancient rules of exogamy, a child belonged to its mother's clan. Previously, the father's identity was often unknown, and even if it was, the great distance between tribes meant they would rarely, if ever, see each other.
But what was happening with Lancao and the Shi women was entirely new. Even without knowing the specific father, they could confirm the child's blood came from two distinct families. This was a major development.
The Shi clan wasn't trying to claim the unborn child, but they felt the situation was different now. This was the first child born to a woman outside their clan who was certain to carry their blood.
They wanted the child to remember their tribe. For the three men, it was the first time they truly felt like fathers, and they naturally transferred the affection they usually held as uncles to this unborn child. This was more than just a new baby; it was the continuation of their own blood in the world!
Chen Jian had never been a father, but he could imagine the feeling. Seeing him return, the people in the room called out to him. "Jian, have you heard?"
"I have."
Shitou spoke up. "This child has our tribe's blood. Things are different now. It's not enough to know the mother; the child must also know who fathered it. Half of this child's blood is from the Shi clan."
The old grandmother shook her head. "It has always been this way. A woman's child belongs to the woman."
"In the past, my mother didn't know who my father was, and I don't remember whose child I fathered. But this is different! We don't want to take the child, but we want the child to know that we are also its kin."
"Lancao can just tell the child when it's older."
"How is that enough? Why did Jian record the tribal oath on a clay tablet instead of just telling the children? My name is Shi. I know my name, so I know I belong to this tribe. A name is more permanent than words, just like the marks on a clay tablet."
The old grandmother said with some displeasure, "Are you suggesting this child be given the name Shi? The child has half our tribe's blood too! There would be no child without the woman!"
"Of course not the name Shi alone, but he has to know! Besides, you can't have a child without a man! Jian, you decide."
Chen Jian hadn't expected them to be so serious about bloodlines. He personally supported the concept of paternal lineage as an inevitable historical trend, but he knew the tribe wouldn't accept it yet. He realized that the emergence of the concept of a 'father' was a positive step. All he could do now was guide them through a transition.
He thought for a moment before speaking in a low voice. "What if... what if the child has two surnames? The child carries the blood of both our clans. In the future, it would be forbidden from marrying members of either of our two clans."
At this point, he could only offer such an idea. Some social changes required a material foundation, and for now, men could not single-handedly provide for the tribe's survival.
More people began to gather in the room. Women from both clans were pregnant, and everyone was anxious about what to do. They had never encountered this before and were thinking of the future. What would happen when this child grew up and had children of its own? They had to clearly distinguish who could marry whom. In the past, they only had to consider the mother's relatives, but now they had to consider the father's as well. More tribes would be moving to the village, and such situations would become common. It was best to establish a rule now.
The idea of a double surname was a transitional solution, destined to be eliminated eventually, but that would take time. As soon as Chen Jian proposed it, everyone in the room agreed it was a good idea. But it immediately led to a more important question.
Which of the two surnames would come first? And which would come second?
Just as Chen Jian had expected, the first true battle of the sexes erupted in that room. All kinship was forgotten; there was only gender.
"The child has always belonged to the mother," a woman declared. "It's generous enough to let the child have your man's name. You want it to come first?"
"We hoe the fields! We chop the wood! We fight the wars! Can you?" a man shot back.
"We used to gather the fruit! Before Jian made better bows and arrows, how much prey could you hunt? You'd go for days without catching a deer! Without our fruit, you men would have starved long ago!"
"We don't need to eat fruit now! The wheat and beans are enough. We can till hundreds of steps of land in a day. How much can you dig?"
"Go try spinning thread! After five minutes, you can't sit still, fidgeting like a snake bit your backside..."
The shouting grew louder and louder, making the two clan leaders and Chen Jian frantic as they tried to calm the men and women whose arguments were becoming increasingly wild.
The power of tradition was immense. When the dust settled, the matriarchal custom held. The mother's name would come first, the father's second.
The women were proud of their victory, and the men were satisfied, too. At least now their children would know them, and their status was more than just 'uncle.'
Chen Jian looked at the triumphant women and thought to himself: Enjoy your victory for a few years. When the clans get used to settled agriculture, when men can support their own families and start thinking about living separately, when a man's labor can provide for his household... you will lose. And the next time you'll be in a position to fight for this again won't be until after industrialization and a world war.
Chapter 68 Military and Political
The outcome of the recent conflict between the men and women was both unexpected and, in hindsight, perfectly reasonable.
That Lancao's cousin and two other men were also driven out was only natural, as those men were not solely Lancao's spouses. When a man says, "You slept with someone else, so I won't sleep with you," a woman can now retort, "If we don't sleep together, so be it. We are not from the same clan, and you don't raise me. The tribe raises the children."
Ultimately, both spousal relationships and social standing were reflections of one's economic status and contribution to labor. In an agricultural society, women were reduced from human beings to things that could be mated with and bear children. It was only through their own hands-on labor in an industrial society that they could achieve liberation. Relying on conscience, preaching, morality, or even religion to improve women's status was a baseless hope.
A few days after the fight, another autumn rain began to fall. To prove they could also perform highly repetitive work, the men squatted in the rooms alongside the women, weaving twine fishing nets with pottery shuttles. Some even tried to imitate the women by using the spinning wheels.
Chen Jian found an excuse to call all the corporals to another room, allowing them to avoid this labor. When the elected squad leaders heard the news, they happily threw down their pottery shuttles and ran to the next room, earning laughter and playful curses from the women.
The last battle had exposed too many problems, and Chen Jian wanted to review the experience with these men so they would understand why they fought in formation.
The current army, including the men from the other tribes, numbered nearly two hundred. The largest combat unit was the five-man squad, the *wu*, meaning he had nearly forty such squads. He couldn't possibly command them all directly and needed to select some mid-level officers.
The concept of a structured army was simple enough; he could just adapt methods from the Shang and Zhou dynasties. The tiered establishment of military divisions and brigades wasn't a modern invention. During that ancient period, armies were organized in hierarchical units: five men formed a *wu*, five *wu* formed a *liang*, and so on up to divisions and armies.
In his past life, true experts in warfare during this era would have kept their knowledge secret. The more people who knew battle tactics, the less secure the power of the hereditary military nobility. He, on the other hand, had no reason to hide anything; besides, his own knowledge was limited.
For now, he had only two *liang*, but that was enough to demonstrate how to fight a war with hundreds of people. If the army grew larger, he couldn't command it with his current knowledge alone; he would have to rely on accumulating experience and continuous assessment.
More than forty men crowded into a room, showing not the slightest hint of military bearing as they chattered away. Chen Jian knocked on the wall to quiet them down.
Using charcoal, he had drawn a series of stick figures on the wall, roughly depicting the phases of the last battle. Those who had fought in it quickly recognized the scenes.
After finishing his drawing, Chen Jian pointed to the wall and said, "War is about making fewer of us die and more of them die. Tell me, what could we have done in the last battle to make fewer of us die?"
The men below glanced at each other, unsure what to say. After a long wait, just as Chen Jian was about to be disappointed, his cousin Acorn finally spoke up.
"Jian, I've been thinking about it since the fight. We were by the river, and one of their men rushed the front of our squad. After we killed him, if we had moved toward you, they wouldn't have been able to get around behind us."
As soon as he finished, the three squad leaders from the far left wing all nodded in agreement. Chen Jian asked, "That's right. So why didn't you move then?"
"You didn't beat the drums, and no one told me to. I didn't know what to do. Besides, if we stay in a line, the fight is over quickly, but if we separate, it becomes one-on-one. It's…"
Acorn scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed. If he had led his men over, maybe seventeen of his people wouldn't have died.
Chen Jian said, "You still need to fight in formation. If you are in a small squad, how many of the enemy can you handle?"
"If it's just one squad, we can fight four or five. If we're near the river, or have other squads on both sides protecting our flanks, we could fight ten or twenty. After all, ten men can't all crowd in front of us at once; we'd only have to face four or five at a time."
Acorn raised his head, and the other men became more animated, complaining that the squads on the right wing had advanced too quickly, exposing their flank like a wild boar showing its soft belly.
The uncle spoke up with a grimace. "At the time, men from the other tribes charged, and my pace got faster. I wasn't thinking about that then."
Song added, "We were also to blame. If our thirty men had seen them rushing, we should have kept a distance from you first, and then charged when they engaged you. Then those men wouldn't have been killed. We practice how to hit people in a charge; in a chaotic brawl, we might not even beat a single squad."
Chen Jian was satisfied hearing this. At least these two had been thinking on the battlefield, and had considered afterward what they would have done if they could do it over. Although their understanding was still rudimentary, it was a start.
He decided to test them. "Why do you think I insisted that you only charge when you were thirty paces away?"
Before Song could speak, the civet cat shouted, "That's simple! Wearing those willow-stick vests, I couldn't charge much farther anyway. Besides, I run fast. If I charged from fifty paces, I'd reach the enemy while Song might still be twenty paces away. They could stab me to death, then wait for Song to run over and stab him to death too. But if we're close when we charge, we all hit them at the same time. It's impossible for several of them to deal with just me alone."
A few members of the assault squad nodded. They had seen with their own eyes how the enemy had rushed them in a disorganized panic. The fastest enemy runners had tried to take on their entire squad alone and were easily killed. If the enemy had been in formation from the start, each of their squads would have had to deal with five or six men at once, which would have been much more difficult.
The civet cat thought for a moment more. "There's another reason. If the enemy is standing still and waiting for us, after we charge thirty paces, your slower-moving squads can also follow. If thirty of us are fighting hundreds of them, and you're all stuck anxiously in the back while we're getting killed up front…"
Chen Jian clapped his hands. "Excellent. Anything else you want to add?"
The men shook their heads, unable to think of anything else for the moment. In fact, Chen Jian had much more to say, but since he hadn't experienced such a battle firsthand, they might not understand even if he told them. He saw that everyone was silent, seemingly pondering the civet cat's words, which truly captured the feelings of some men during that battle.
Chen Jian knocked on the wall again. "We will continue to fight in the future, and there will be more and more men. Let's select a few more leaders. Five squads will form a new unit, a *liang*. I will choose one person to lead it, and you will choose the others."
There was almost no suspense. Acorn and the civet cat, who had spoken the most, were chosen.
After the selection, Chen Jian glanced at Wolfpi, who had been silent the whole time. *He's usually so talkative, what's wrong today?* he wondered.
"Brother, why haven't you said a word?"
Wolfpi spread his hands. "I can shoot whatever you want me to. We archers just hide in the back and shoot. When I make a bow that can kill a man at a hundred paces, I'll ride a horned deer, and when the enemy is eating or sleeping, I'll shoot and run. They'll never catch me anyway."
Everyone laughed, and Chen Jian laughed with them. He told them to disperse and go back to weaving their fishing nets.
A few days later, as agreed, the leaders of the ten allied tribes arrived at the village with a number of their men, carrying enough food for their stay. Chen Jian broke up these newcomers and assigned them to the existing squads, ensuring the squad leaders were all from his own two clans.
It wouldn't take a great battle to punish the tribes that had betrayed their oath. This was a political issue, not a military one.
The two tribes that had been rescued also elected their own leaders, and finally a council of fifteen people assembled in the room to discuss how to punish the traitors. This time, Chen Jian didn't wait for them to debate, but directly stated his opinion.
The traitor tribes would be moved out of the mountains and resettled in the lower reaches of the Caohe River. The purpose of placing them downstream was for control; in case of any trouble, the army could travel downriver quickly by boat.
These relocated tribes would have to learn how to cultivate wheat and beans. Every year, for every ten catties of grain they harvested, they would have to hand over one catty as the common property of the fifteen tribes. In addition, they would be required to hand over varying amounts of fish, firewood, hemp thread, sheep, and deer as the price for betraying their ancestors. The tribute was not so heavy as to provoke fierce resistance; compared to their old life in the mountains, it was still an improvement. This was all part of his careful planning.
The leaders of those tribes would not be eligible to join the council; they would not even have the right to voice opinions. They could only manage the internal affairs of their own tribes. When the alliance went to war, their men would serve as supply soldiers, but they would not have the right to be combat soldiers.
They would also be required to perform corvée labor, such as dredging rivers and ramming earth for city walls. This work would be scheduled to minimally affect their planting seasons, but it would prevent them from having enough free time to develop their own handicrafts.
Crucially, they would be treated as sinful kinsmen, not slaves. They would retain the right to worship their ancestors, to trade, and to receive the guidance and protection of the alliance. People would be sent to teach them new planting techniques, and they would even be given some wine, pottery, and tools. The army would also protect them from raids by foreign tribes.
If the alliance's territory expanded in a few years, they could prove their loyalty and earn equal rights with the current fifteen tribes. But for now, they could not. They would have to rely on their children to learn from their shame and grow brave.
The main village would become a city in the future. The tribesmen living in the city would have political rights, and the city would be a center for handicrafts. The combat troops would be selected from the city's residents, and the city would serve as the administrative center to control a territory of a hundred miles.
There were basically no objections to this plan. A few leaders wanted to enslave these people to reclaim land, but Chen Jian vetoed the idea. Those tribes, he argued, would one day be the foundation of a greater tribal alliance.
After everything was discussed, they decided to set off the next day. They wouldn't need to bring many men, leaving some behind to guard the village in case of emergencies. Those who went would conduct an armed parade—a show of force. The leaders of the fifteen council tribes had to go along to denounce the betrayal, demonstrating that this was the common will of all.
Chapter 69: A Just Cause
Three days later, a newly trodden path stretched into the sparsely populated jungle. A few chipmunks hid in their tree holes, watching the advancing column with curiosity.
The men at the front chopped at low bushes with stone axes, clearing the way for those behind them. On both flanks, hundreds of paces from the main column, warriors rode horned deer, guarding against any possible attack.
The weather was growing colder. Chen Jian rode his white horned deer, a sheepskin draped over his shoulders, and from time to time he would lift his reins-hand to his mouth and breathe on it for warmth.
The older chiefs sat on grass sledges, covered with thick furs. They occasionally unplugged their wooden gourds and took a few sips of wine to warm themselves.
Several scouts on horned deer bypassed the column and came to Chen Jian's side.
"Jian, there's a tribe ahead," one reported. "Wolf Skin is watching them now. They haven't noticed us; they're catching fish in the river."
"Go and tell Acorn to lead his men to the upper reaches of the river. Capture anyone who tries to escape."
The scout acknowledged the order, gripped his mount with his legs, and rode toward the front of the line to pass the message down.
Chen Jian dismounted, halting the column for a while. The people sat down to rest, smashing walnuts or picking the last persimmons that still clung to the trees. For this march, he was deliberately using scouts to relay orders, testing to see if the commanders he had chosen could operate independently. In truth, attacking a tribe like this didn't need to be so complicated, but he was making it a challenging exercise. The scouts on the flanks had been sent out two miles away.
Finally, a scout from Acorn's detachment returned, confirming that Acorn had taken twenty-five men and secured the river upstream. Chen Jian leaped back onto his horned deer and led the column to Wolf Skin's hiding place, about a mile from the fishing party.
From a distance, he could see them: they would fish in the river for a while and then hurry ashore to warm themselves by a fire. Fishing in such weather would certainly lead to cramps. Chen Jian guessed they must have run out of acorns to have been forced to fish on such a cold day.
"The baggage team stays here!" he commanded. "The rest of you, put on your wicker armor and advance to the beat of the drum!"
At his shout, someone immediately brought out the war drum. The warriors set down the wicker baskets they were carrying, took out their simple armor, and put it on. At the urging of their squad leaders, they formed into ranks.
The people fishing by the river heard the commotion and stopped their work to peer into the woods. A few of them even reached for the stone spears lying on the bank.
*Dong, dong, dong...*
The drums began to beat. With a unified cry, the soldiers marched out of the woods in formation, startling the people by the river.
A clansman held a black-and-white flag high, standing at the far left of the line. Chen Jian rode his horned deer at the rear of the formation, where two men were dedicated to beating the drums.
When the people by the river saw the black-and-white flag, they dropped the fish in their hands in panic and ran toward a nearby cave, shouting as they went.
Chen Jian looked closer and saw that their hair was still tied up in the traditional bun. He smiled.
After a moment, a group of people emerged hesitantly from the cave, holding bows, arrows, or slings. They looked uneasily at the seemingly unshakable line of soldiers in the distance. Some stared at the horned deer in fear; they had never seen such tall animals, let alone people riding them.
"What are they doing?" a clansman asked, raising his bow.
He was grabbed by their leader, a woman named Osprey. "Do you want to die?" she shouted.
She knew very well that her tribe was no match for these people. She just hadn't expected them to arrive like this, nor for Chen Jian's warriors to be so orderly. Each beat of the drum made her own heart pound wildly.
After she had traded for the new fishhooks, she had never intended for her people to join the battle. Her reasoning was simple: if Chen Jian's alliance was defeated, her tribe would have perished had they gone. They would have had to migrate. If he won, then everything would be fine. To her, Jian was a good person. He had taught her tribe many ways to survive and had asked for nothing in return.
She thought of Jian as being like the persimmon tree at the entrance of her cave: it provided shade in the summer, bore fruit in the autumn, and dropped branches for their fires in the winter. It was entirely good, without a single thorn. No matter how much you took, it would never prick you.
But now, she realized she was wrong. This person was not at all what she had thought, not some benevolent child just coming of age. He was a wolf, and now he was baring his fangs.
The sound of the drums continued as the soldiers drew closer. A line of archers moved to the front of their formation, clearly preparing to shoot.
Osprey felt her tongue go dry. She turned and yelled, "Put down your bows and slings! Put them down!"
"But—"
"Put them down!"
Her clansmen had never heard such a stern tone from their leader. One by one, they dropped their weapons. Osprey sighed, reached up to pull her hair loose, and walked forward alone.
The drumming stopped. Chen Jian dismounted from his horned deer. Behind him, the fourteen chiefs of the allied tribes also stood up together. Osprey was startled; she hadn't expected them to come as well.
Chen Jian walked to the front of his line. The flag-bearer followed close behind, and the other leaders advanced with him.
"Osprey," Chen Jian began, his voice cold. "The last oath required your tribe to send warriors. Why did I not see them? I gave you fishhooks, and you swore you would come. Tell me, where were your people?"
Osprey took a deep breath, afraid to meet the eyes of the young man she had once seen as a child. When she saw the other chiefs standing with him, her face flushed with shame.
Chen Jian turned to the soldiers behind him and commanded loudly, "Tell the leader Osprey the results of our last battle!"
Hundreds of voices shouted in unison: "On the twenty-second day of the Fruity Moon, we killed eighty-three and captured one hundred! Our dead numbered thirty-two! A great victory!"
After the shout, the drums thundered, as if announcing the glorious result to the heavens themselves.
Osprey was filled with inexplicable panic. The outcome was incredible. To capture a hundred and kill eighty-three, while losing only thirty-two? How was such a battle even fought? Amid her panic, she also felt a sliver of relief at her decision. If she hadn't ordered her people to lay down their weapons, these warriors might have slaughtered them all in an instant.
At that moment, the drumming stopped. Wolf Skin rode a horned deer forward until he was right in front of Osprey, a stone spear in his hand. A dry, purple-black head stained with lime was impaled on the spearhead. He brandished it before the trembling tribespeople, held it high, and shouted, "This was their leader! Now, he is dead! Anyone who dares to be our enemy will die!"
Hearing this, Osprey's legs felt weak. Was Chen Jian going to kill her, too?
Chen Jian raised his voice again, shouting, "When the apricots turned yellow, you had no bows and arrows. To help us all live better, our ancestors guided me to make them. I gave them to you. How many animals have you killed with those bows?"
Osprey's head drooped even lower. The sound of the flag snapping in the wind beside her filled her with dread. Chen Jian's words also reached the ears of her tribespeople. They knew how important the bow and arrow had been to their survival, how much game it had allowed them to harvest.
Chen Jian continued, "You had no clay pots or bowls. I had you trade for them with stones. Tell me, what use are those stones to us? You did not know how to fish. I taught you how. Tell me, how many fish have you eaten? You had no wicker baskets. I taught you how to weave them. Tell me, how many more acorns were you able to gather?"
After these words, the people knew they were in the wrong. They lowered their heads in silence and envied the groundhogs, who could at least dig a hole and hide. They could feel the leaders of the fourteen tribes looking at them, laughing at them. The two eyes on the black-and-white flag seemed to be staring directly at them, at the descendants who had betrayed their oath.
Chen Jian cleared his throat and shouted again, "Why did I do all this for you? Because we share the same ancestor. You tie up your hair, you eat your fill, and you have clay pots. But when our kin were being slaughtered by another tribe, where were you?"
"You have betrayed your ancestors, yet you stand under their banner. Think about your life since the apricots ripened, and think about your life before. When you die and see your ancestors, what will you say? Will you tell them that when another tribe slaughtered your relatives, you ran away? Our ancestors have no need for such descendants!"
"You can let your hair down and no longer recognize your ancestors, as if your very blood has changed. This is the land protected by our ancestors. You can leave, but you must return their protection to us. Smash the clay pots! Burn the wicker baskets! Break the bows and arrows! Destroy the fishhooks! Get out of here and never come back, or we will drive you away with stone spears and stone axes!"
The soldiers behind him roared in agreement. Osprey imagined a life without all those things and cried out in desperation, "No! No! Our blood is the same as yours, and we have always tied our hair in buns! We were like frightened roe deer and we fled. But we will always remember the protection of our ancestors. Jian! If another tribe kills our kin, we will go! Not five of us, but all of us!"
Chen Jian did not answer immediately, swallowing to moisten his dry throat. A just cause is a powerful weapon, he thought. These people, despite sharing their ancestry, were cunning. They likely thought his alliance would lose, and they probably saw him as a good-natured fool. They respected their ancestors only because they provided nourishment, like gentle rain and dew, but had never felt their power, the power of thunder.
Seeing Chen Jian's silence, Osprey grew even more terrified. She looked pleadingly at the fourteen leaders, searching for a familiar face, but all she saw was contempt, which finally drove her to despair. The clansmen behind her began to cry loudly. They did not want to migrate. If they left here, where could they go? And what if they really did have to face their ancestors after death?
The autumn wind carried the sound of their weeping across the quiet field, making the air feel colder still. Just as Osprey's heart sank to the depths, Chen Jian finally spoke.
"You are, after all, of the same ancestor. I have discussed this with the leaders of the fourteen tribes. Since you still admit you are of our line, you can stay and continue to use the pottery, the bows, and the arrows."
Osprey could hardly believe it. She was about to stammer her thanks when Chen Jian continued, "However, you cannot stay here any longer. You must move to the bank of the Caohe River. There you will use time to prove your loyalty to your ancestors and wash the cowardice from your blood. Under our eyes, we will see if you remain timid roe deer or become a pack of wolves baring your fangs in the next war. We no longer trust your promises, nor your oaths."
"You may discuss it with your clansmen. You can either leave, or you can move. There is no third choice. Let us know your decision before dark."
Without another look at her, Chen Jian turned to walk back to his lines. But before he had taken a third step, a chaotic but unified cry rose up behind him.
"We will go to the Caohe River!"
They didn't know what life would be like on the Caohe, but at least there they would still have the protection of their ancestors, who they believed would not watch their descendants perish. But to leave this land, to unbind their hair and migrate elsewhere—that would mean certain death for their tribe. Osprey still remembered the stories her mother had told of the horrors of the great migration long ago. She had learned cunning from her mother, learned to protect her people at all costs, but today she had paid the price for that cunning. The old ways were no longer enough.
Chen Jian turned back and had a warrior plant the flag in the ground. Osprey and her clansmen gathered around it, kneeling to worship the banner of their ancestors. They begged for forgiveness for their betrayal and pleaded for continued protection. The fourteen leaders accepted Osprey back into the fold, but her status had changed. There was now no place for her or her tribe in their council.
Baskets of acorns, dried fish, and clay pots were moved out of the cave. Terrified children were placed on grass sledges. The tribespeople carried their belongings on their backs and took one last look at the place where they had been born and raised, now being consumed by flames. The persimmon tree at the entrance to the cave was also turning to ash.
They had embarked on a road to an unknown future, their hearts filled with apprehension. Their only comfort was that they were still descendants of their ancestors. Perhaps, after they had paid for their sins, their ancestors would protect them once again.
*They must,* Osprey thought to herself. She glanced at the flag, hoisted a heavy basket of acorns onto her back, and with heavy legs, began the long journey of redemption.
---
⭐ $5 Tier – Early Access!
Stay 50 chapters ahead of public releases on RoyalRoad and Scribble Hub.
Latest available chapter: 119.
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.