Chapter 33

The air was still filled with the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat, but everyone had eaten their fill. Smiles lit up their faces as they chatted happily, reflecting on the enjoyable evening. Groups of two or three made their way home, content and full.

“Wait, Zhou Yan!” Qiao called out.

“Oh, right, the bubble leaves!” Zhou Yan exclaimed, almost forgetting. He’d eaten so much that he was now a little dazed. He and A-Yin, along with Qiao and Ah Da, all decided to head over to Qiao’s new home together.

The air still carried the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat, but everyone had eaten their fill. Faces were lit with smiles, and chatter filled the air as people reflected on the enjoyable evening. Pairs of friends headed home, their spirits high.

“Wait, Zhou Yan!” Qiao called out.

“Oh, right, the bubble leaves!” Zhou Yan exclaimed, almost forgetting. He had eaten so much that he was now in a daze. Along with A-Yin, Qiao, and Ah Da, the four of them made their way to Qiao’s new home.

Qiao and Ah Da walked side by side, but there was no need for overt displays of affection. They were in their own little world—exchanging occasional knowing glances and smiles, a silent understanding between them. Ah Da held the silver-leafed branch for Qiao, which glistened softly in the moonlight like a tiny, glowing pearl—casting just enough light to guide their way.

At Qiao’s doorstep, Zhou Yan quickly grabbed the tree, barely even looking at it. He stuffed it awkwardly under his arm. “Qiao Jie, Ah Da, we’ll head off now. Bye-bye!”

“No need to see us off,” Qiao said with a smile. “Bye-bye!”

Zhou Yan nearly called out to A-Yin to hurry up and run, not because he wanted to avoid them, but because he didn’t want to interrupt Qiao and Ah Da’s private time. He was far too perceptive for that. As he and A-Yin hurried away, he caught Ah Da’s voice faintly behind them: “They’re gone, let’s head back.”

See? He knew exactly when to leave.

A-Yin lagged behind his brother, running at a deliberately slower pace, chasing after him. Zhou Yan led the way, his face beaming with happiness. As they reached a gentler slope, where they slowed to a walk, Zhou Yan ruffled A-Yin’s head affectionately.

“We’re just being considerate. Qiao Jie will be happy we’re not staying too long.”

A-Yin didn’t understand the words, but he trusted his brother. Pressing his head against the bubble-leafed tree, Zhou Yan realized, “Hmm, it’s not heavy at all. It’s light enough. I’ll take care of it.”

The bubble-leaf tree, rather than a typical tree, resembled a large bush, much like a small pine tree along a modern greenway. It had a main stem with flat, spreading branches and thick, fleshy leaves.

The brothers carried the tree home, lighting a small fire outside. Under the dim light, they hurriedly planted the tree, the roots already muddied but a few broken. They didn’t waste time, working quickly to settle it into the ground.

“A-Yin, bring the bucket. I’ll dig the hole.”

A-Yin brought the bucket over, nudging his brother with his head, though he missed the mark—his nose hit Zhou Yan’s rear end. Zhou Yan yelped, clutching his backside as he turned to glare at A-Yin, who just whimpered innocently.

“Want to dig yourself?” Zhou Yan asked, understanding. He shifted over to give A-Yin space. “Let’s work together. I’ll water the roots first.”

It wasn’t really A-Yin’s fault—after all, his skirt was a little too short.

With his paws, A-Yin dug with surprising precision, the soil yielding easily. Zhou Yan saw the loosened earth and took over with a shovel to deepen the hole, while A-Yin, sensing his brother struggling, stepped in to help, digging deeper with his paws.

Before long, the hole was ready—half a meter deep. They placed the bubble-leaf tree in, filled it with soil, watered it, and patted it down.

“Wash your hands, then we can go to bed.”

After cleaning up, Zhou Yan checked on the rabbits—currently housed with the chickens. The chickens were fully tamed now, the rooster that had been wild before was now a model of obedience. As for the rabbits, it was still too early to tell, so they remained caged for now.

The next day, the sun was already high when Zhou Yan, not particularly hungry, began his chores. A-Yin had gone off on a patrol, while Zhou Yan stayed home. His task for the day was to clean up the skins he’d been collecting—rabbit pelts.

He also took the mats outside to air them out, making sure no pests would get to them.

After tidying up inside the cave and watering the bubble-leaf tree, Zhou Yan took the pelts down to the river. As he passed, the two rabbits, shivering in fear, took the opportunity to dig frantically into the slope as soon as he left. Zhou Yan sighed.

He wasn’t trying to scare them, really!

But the rabbits didn’t believe him and kept digging their new home in peace, not daring to run.

As Zhou Yan walked down to the river, a few other sub-beastmen greeted him along the way. They struck up a conversation about the events at Qiao’s place, and Zhou Yan explained how to go about gathering the wood for their door—first, drying a large tree to use as material. Some of the sub-beastmen took note, while others chimed in.

“You could just have your partner ask Ah Da for the type of tree you need,” one of them suggested.

“That’s true,” another agreed.

It seemed the sub-beastmen had a good acceptance of the idea of cave doors.

“Zhou Yan, I never realized you were so clever before. I always misunderstood you,” one of them added.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that,” another chuckled.

Zhou Yan just smiled, saying, “We didn’t know each other back then. It’s no big deal.”

The conversation turned to other topics as they worked, and Zhou Yan found himself listening in with interest—everything from hunting, feasting, and the latest news about the young ones in the tribe who were about to mature.

Even in this primal world, there was gossip.

“Isn’t the salt exchange team leaving soon?” someone asked.

Ah, the salt exchange—the tribe’s big event each year.

“We’ve prepared four pelts. Hope it’s enough,” one person said.

“That’s a bit scarce. I heard the feathered people can be picky,” another replied.

“Yeah, last year, we had to trade three deer hides and some ivory just to get a big bag of salt. With the snow season coming, I’ve been using it to preserve meat, but we’re almost out.”

“The eagle tribe’s especially fierce. Our leopard tribe has pelts, but the wolf, lion, and tiger tribes also start getting picky,” someone explained.

Zhou Yan became more intrigued by the salt exchange as he listened. He hadn’t seen the other tribes outside of his own, but it sounded like the eagle tribe was the biggest player in the feathered people’s market.

“Looks like those four pelts won’t get us much,” the one who had asked sounded worried.

“Don’t rush,” another reassured them. “There’s still time before the exchange team leaves. You’ll have more chances to see what you can gather.”

“Yeah, yeah, we should, we should wait until the grass is all green—” one of the beastmen began, but then paused, realizing how to measure time. “When the mud beans that Zhuo Yan planted are ripe, that should be around the time the salt exchange team heads out.”

Zhuo Yan: …Suddenly being called out, everyone’s attention shifted to him.

A voice came from behind, “Yeah, Zhuo Yan, when will our potatoes be ready?”

It was Aman.

Zhuo Yan jumped in surprise, slowly turning around, only to find Aman and the stone-faced Xian standing right behind him, their faces full of curiosity, clearly having been there for who knows how long.

“I don’t know either. Should we go check on them? You guys have dug mud beans often, so you probably know better than I do,” Zhuo Yan suggested.

“Alright,” Aman agreed.

They headed toward the potato field, and soon a bunch of beastmen followed them—these were the ones who had been chatting by the river earlier. Unlike before when they had been watching from a distance, this time Zhuo Yan was leading the group openly, and they talked freely about how to plant mud beans. Some beastmen even started calling them “potatoes” like Aman.

The beastmen who had previously felt indifferent towards Zhuo Yan started to warm up to him. They realized that Zhuo Yan wasn’t secretive or reserved—he shared what he knew whenever they asked. When they inquired about the potatoes, Zhuo Yan gave them detailed answers, confirming their assumptions.

Zhuo Yan: It’s funny how these beastmen show their intentions so openly.

Their casual questions—”Oh, how do we plant them?”—would often come with an underlying expectation. If Zhuo Yan didn’t answer, they would act disappointed and then suddenly seem to offer something in return, as if they were making a big decision.

Zhuo Yan: It’s not like I really want to make people beg, though…

Shitou squatted down, gently touching a potato leaf. The other beastmen saw him and asked if they could touch it too. Shituo glanced at Zhuo Yan, who simply said, “…Go ahead, it’s definitely not ready yet.”

“It’s not ready, at least we still need to wait another month,” Shitou said.

“That’s about the same time as the salt exchange team leaves,” another beastman chimed in.

Zhuo Yan was surprised. A month more before the potatoes were ready? He hadn’t realized how long it could take. Some potatoes could take four to five months to mature, but after only a little over a month, it seemed like these were already halfway there. If they could be harvested in three months…

He truly loved this land—it was so fertile.

After everyone scattered, Aman, still with a little doubt, asked, “Zhuo Yan, have you been talking to other beastmen?”

“Are you jealous, big brother Aman?” Zhuo Yan teased.

Aman hadn’t heard that nickname in a while and rubbed his arm nervously, clearly amused but trying to hide it. “Don’t call me that. I’m worried your brother, A-Yin, might come and beat me.”

“…What does that even mean?” Zhuo Yan shook his head, turning to Xian, who had been eavesdropping. “How long have you been lurking behind me? Didn’t even make a sound.”

Xian pouted, “Aman told us not to make noise. We were just watching to see what you guys were up to. Zhuo Yan, it was so surprising seeing you chatting with the tribe like this.”

“Everyone now knows you’re a good guy,” Shitou added.

Xian nodded, his fluffy ears perked up, but he quickly covered them, saying, “Yes, exactly.”

“…I almost touched your head, but I was too slow,” Zhuo Yan sighed. “Thanks for all the concern about my social life, though.”

Aman chuckled but didn’t push the topic further. Instead, he said, “I’m so bored. I ate too much yesterday.”

Shitou nodded in agreement.

Zhuo Yan noticed their boredom.

“Why don’t you help me out with something?” he asked, shamelessly.

“Oh, right! Your elephant bone knife,” Aman suddenly remembered. “I almost forgot about it.”

“I forgot too,” Zhuo Yan said. “I’ll go grab it from home.”

“Then what did you mean by asking us to help you out?” Aman was curious.

As they walked, Zhuo Yan casually mentioned, “I want to build a roof over the stove, and we need a shorter shelf at the entrance. I can handle it all myself, but I also want to make some charcoal…”

The discussion about the items the salt exchange team needed to bring had mostly been about hides and bones, but it made Zhuo Yan think about his plan for pottery. His stone pot at home was already full, and he could only use one, but clay pots were much better—they didn’t shed wood chips, didn’t mold easily, and could store and boil water.

They had yellow clay, and the temperatures they needed for firing the pots were high. If they started with charcoal, the temperature would reach around twelve hundred degrees, and with good sealing and a manual bellows, it could be done.

Zhuo Yan felt fired up as he thought about it. Why wait when you’re excited?

Anyway, the tribe was full after eating, and everyone was bored, so…

After retrieving the elephant bone, he handed it to Shitou while explaining his plan. Unsurprisingly, their faces showed complete confusion. They bombarded him with questions:

“Won’t the firewood be gone?”

“How can mud turn into something like a stone pot?”

“Zhuo Yan, if you need ash, I have plenty at my cave!”

Zhuo Yan: …I’m not asking for ash!!!

“Here’s how it works,” he explained patiently, “Firewood burns in the stove, but it mustn’t come into contact with oxygen—that is, air—otherwise, it’ll burn completely into ash. The ash is useless. What we need is to control the temperature, seal the ventilation, and let it carbonize. After twenty-four hours, it’ll cool, and we’ll be good.”

The confusion on their faces was priceless, their expressions clearly asking if Zhuo Yan had lost his mind.

Zhuo Yan: I knew it!

“You’re saying weird things again.”

“How do you even know about this charcoal stuff?”

Zhuo Yan propped his chin up, casually replying, “I dreamed about it. It was so cold last winter, I almost froze to death. Just before I was about to die, I dreamed about charcoal—it burns hotter and longer…”

“Wahh, wahh, wahhh!” Xian suddenly started crying.

Zhuo Yan: ??? Wait a second, I didn’t say anything that bad!

Xian sniffled, wiping his eyes, “Zhuo Yan, you were so cold, you almost died…”

“I’m still here, still alive,” Zhuo Yan said, giving Xian a comforting hug. When he looked up, he saw Aman and Shitou both looking at him with serious expressions. Then Aman spoke, “Zhuo Yan, about burning wood—I’m willing to help you.”

“I feel the same way,” said Zhuo Yan, belatedly realizing that his earlier fabricated story had stirred up sympathy from his friends. Even though they didn’t fully believe that firewood could turn into charcoal, they were all willing to stay with him.

Now, it was Zhuo Yan’s turn to feel moved, eyes welling with emotion.

“Good brothers, good pals, boo-hoo-hoo!” he sobbed dramatically.

“Zhuo Yan, don’t cry!” Xiao Xian quickly joined in.

The four of them huddled together, sobbing. Shi Tou and Aman were a bit uncomfortable at first, but eventually gave in, awkwardly embracing the moment—well, at least they weren’t crying along with them.

Once Zhuo Yan had his emotional moment—though he didn’t actually cry, he was truly touched. When he first arrived last year, Aman used to mockingly call him “the disliked beast,” and while they showed him some pity, it was just casual sympathy. Now, their bond had grown much deeper. Just hearing him talk about how cold the snow season was and how close he came to freezing to death, and they were willing to join him in his “madness.”

Cough cough, Aman cleared his throat, sitting up straight, a little embarrassed. “You two, especially you, Zhuo Yan, you didn’t actually cry. You were just… ‘boo-hoo-hoo-ing.'”

“Ugh, this Zhuo Yan, big liar,” he muttered under his breath.

Zhuo Yan, with a completely innocent expression, said, “Brother Aman, I don’t like to cry when I get emotional. I just like the ‘boo-hoo-hoo’ sound.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, exactly,” Xiao Xian chimed in happily from a distance, only to run back into the circle immediately after.

They all burst into laughter.

Getting back to the topic at hand, Shi Tou was busy grinding the bone knife. The elephant bone was huge, so Shi Tou first asked Zhuo Yan what he needed it for. When Zhuo Yan said for cutting vegetables, Shi Tou decided, “That’s too big. I’ll make you two smaller ones.”

“Sure, I’ll go with whatever you say.”

As Shi Tou began picking the spots on the bone, some parts were too thin to use, so he had to smash it first. After that, he found a rock and slowly started sharpening the blade. The edge couldn’t be too thin, or it would shatter, nor too thick.

This was expert craftsmanship at work!

As Shi Tou worked, Aman spoke up, “About that wood you’re turning into ash—wait, no, what was it again?”

“Charcoal,” Zhuo Yan replied.

“Right, how do you make charcoal from wood?” Aman asked, curiosity piqued.

Zhuo Yan responded confidently, “You gather the firewood, dig a pit to make a kiln. I know a method that produces a high yield of charcoal.” He had learned about charcoal making back in the countryside.

There are two main ways to make charcoal: dry distillation and kiln firing.

As for the kiln method, there were two types. Zhuo Yan had previously learned about the upright kiln method, where the kiln is narrow at the top and wider at the bottom. This method yields small amounts of charcoal but is faster and more complete. However, when he was in the village recovering from an illness, bored out of his mind, he made some small videos. The villagers told him, “Kid, what you’re doing doesn’t compare to how much we get from burning the pigsty.”

That’s when Zhuo Yan learned about a better method: the pig trough kiln.

The pit was dug to resemble a pig’s feeding trough. This method yields a large amount of charcoal, though it turns out more crumbly and takes longer to clean up. Depending on the amount, it could take two or three days to burn, and it’s very labor-intensive.

Zhuo Yan was all for it, as he had nothing else to do.

The other three—Shi Tou, still grinding away, couldn’t hear or understand what was happening, while Xiao Xian and Aman, after hearing Zhuo Yan’s explanation, looked as clueless as ever.

“Let’s just do it,” Zhuo Yan decided. “First step: gather small twigs, not big trees.”

Suddenly, Aman and Xiao Xian perked up.

“Okay, we got it!”

“I know where some small trees are,” Xiao Xian said after a moment’s thought, “but we’ll need to go a bit outside the tribe. Should we wait for Qiao to join us?”

“Of course,” Zhuo Yan agreed. “We’ll get everything ready first. I don’t think Sister Qiao will be available anytime soon.”

“Why’s that?” Xiao Xian asked, puzzled.

Aman cut in, bluntly, “Well, she’s obviously busy mating with Ada. Why else would she be unavailable? You’re still too young to understand this stuff. Look at Zhuo Yan—he gets it!”

“…You sound like a pervert,” Zhuo Yan muttered.

Deciding to cook a simple meal, Zhuo Yan invited his friends over. It was almost noon, but Aman and Shi Tou were too uninterested to eat much.

“I’m still full,” Xiao Xian said, patting his stomach. “I ate so much yesterday, I could barely sleep.”

“Let’s just have something light,” Zhuo Yan suggested. “We’re waiting for A-Yin to come back. We need to chop some firewood outside the tribe, and it’s safer with A-Yin keeping watch.”

With Qiao and Ada unavailable, A-Yin would keep an eye on things.

“Alright then!”

Zhuo Yan returned home to cook. Looking at the large pot of fried meat, he decided to get creative—he needed to mix it up, or he wouldn’t be able to stomach just meat. After inspecting his dwindling stock of Dudu fruits, he crushed them in a wooden bucket.

Not long after, Aman and Xiao Xian came over.

Aman saw what Zhuo Yan was doing with the Dudu fruit and was delighted, saying he’d take over the smashing.

“Good, eating Dudu fruit is the best.”

Xiao Xian nodded. “We don’t have any Dudu fruit left in my cave.”

“Your family has a lot of people. Sister Qiao told us to save the Dudu fruit for the snow season. If we eat it now, we won’t have any left after a few more meals.” Zhuo Yan wondered whether they could plant more Dudu trees, though they were tall, and it seemed unlikely they’d bear fruit for at least three to five years.

As Zhuo Yan prepared the dish, chopping onions and washing wild greens, he planned to make stir-fried meat with noodles.

Aman finished smashing the Dudu fruit in no time, setting it aside to rest. With nothing else to do, Aman and Xiao Xian wandered around, curiously checking out the chicken coop and watching the rabbits and chickens stroll around the dirt slope. The two of them looked like tourists, their faces filled with wonder and amazement.

“Zhuo Yan, won’t the chicken run away?”

“Nope. That rooster ran around in the morning but came back by itself. Its wings can’t fly anymore, so it settled in.”

He glanced at them, adding, “The rabbits still want to run, so keep an eye on them.”

Hearing this, the two of them rushed over to the rabbits, watching them closely as they dug into their burrows, their heads the only thing visible.

“They look kinda dumb.”

“Well, if they were smart, they wouldn’t be hiding like that, right?”

“Who knows? Some animals can be really tricky.”

The two of them exchanged words, fixated on the rabbit hole. Eventually, it was Zhuo Yan who called out, saying, “Dinner’s ready. One of you go get Shi Tou.”

Shi Tou was still by the river, sharpening his knife.

“I’ll go, Zhuo Yan!”

“I’ll go!”

Both of them, tired of watching the rabbits, jumped at the chance to run errands. With a bit of playfulness and banter, they headed down the slope toward the riverbank. Zhuo Yan sighed in relief. Finally, the world was quiet.

The two rabbits, who had been nervously huddled in their burrow, cautiously poked their heads out.

The thickened elephant meat was scooped onto the iron plate, topped with some chopped scallions and freshly baked, slightly undercooked Dudu cakes. Zhuo Yan stirred it with chopsticks. Only two portions could fit on the plate at a time.

“You two start eating,” Zhuo Yan handed plates to Shi Tou and Aman. “Xiao Xian, how about you join me for the next round?”

“Sure, sure.” Xiao Xian inhaled eagerly. “Zhuo Yan, everything you make smells amazing!”

Aman, cradling his wooden bowl, said, “He’s so tidy when he works. Even though we all live in caves, Zhuo Yan’s cave feels different from ours.”

Shi Tou remained silent, nodding his head. His cave was messy, though not dirty. Since getting a broom, he cleaned it every day, but no matter what, it never stayed clean. There was always firewood ash, food scraps, and his little sister would often knock over the firewood, leaving it in disarray.

For a moment, Shi Tou couldn’t help but admire Zhuo Yan’s cave. It was clean and neat, with trees just outside the entrance, and even a bubbling-leaf tree nearby. The same mats as his, but they were arranged so well, it looked like sleeping there would be comfortable.

The cave itself was spacious, with firewood neatly stacked against the wall. There was a wooden stool that Zhuo Yan called a “seat” where they could sit and eat. The walls had clean hides hanging, and a basket was tucked away in the corner by the firewood pile. Even the stone bed was spotless.

It was really nice.

Shi Tou’s eyes showed a hint of envy. “I want a mate too.”

“This is delicious, but it’s missing salt,” Aman said as he shoveled a big mouthful into his mouth. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but Zhuo Yan’s food was too good. He glanced over at Shi Tou, “You don’t want a mate, you just want a clean cave.”

Shi Tou didn’t deny it and lowered his head to continue eating.

“You know, if you were living with a smelly beastman, and had to mate over and over during heat season…” Aman paused, glancing at Zhuo Yan. “Not talking about you, though.”

Last time, they had discussed mating, and Zhuo Yan wasn’t a fan of the topic.

Zhuo Yan, quietly cooking, kept stirring.

“You love cleanliness, Shi Tou. Maybe you should look for a beastman who likes to clean too.” Aman was trying to get back to the original subject, suggesting a few names of “clean” beastmen.

Shi Tou’s expression shifted from “I want a mate” to “I give up on `love.”

To be honest, it wasn’t really Shi Tou’s fault. There were very few beastmen of his age in the tribe. Like Ada, he had already bonded with Qiao. Or A-Shu and Chun, who hadn’t yet bonded but moved in with one beastman after another, leaving when things didn’t work out.

Then there were the younger ones, like Yu.

Most of the tribe’s adult, strong beastmen were already either married or living with temporary partners, while the younger ones were too young, and the older ones were too old—very few of them even existed.

“Shi Tou, why don’t we send a salt team to the Featherman Market this year?” Xiao Xian suggested. “You can come along and see if any other tribes have someone suitable.”

“Your second brother doesn’t even carry you. Who will carry Shi Tou?” Aman tapped Xiao Xian on the head. “Besides, what if the babies you have turn out like A-Yin?”

“I’m not saying anything bad about A-Yin!” Aman quickly apologized.

“I know. You’re just being realistic,” Zhuo Yan said, knowing that Aman was just worried about Shi Tou’s future. He handed Xiao Xian his portion of stir-fried noodles, and sat down with his own stone plate, smiling. “A-Yin is great. I really like him the way he is.”

If A-Yin turned into a man, Zhuo Yan would certainly not be as comfortable as he was now.

In winter, he could sleep with A-Yin naked, but with a man, it would be a completely different story. Plus, A-Yin had accidentally bumped into his backside a few times—just a fuzzy little creature trying to help, but if it were a man, it would be something entirely different!

In the end, he sighed, “I love A-Yin’s fluff.”

A-Yin leapt up from the hillside, running quickly, a string of bright red berries in his mouth. “Woo! Woo!” he cried, “Brother says he loves me and likes me!”

“Brother, hurry up and eat the berries. They’re sweet!”

Zhuo Yan, who had just “confessed” his feelings: …Well, not really a confession, was it?

Looking at A-Yin with the berries in his mouth, his silver fur, now dyed with the juice, the beautiful blue eyes staring at him, and the wagging tail—how could anyone not love him?

A-Yin was already so adorable!

Zhuo Yan ate a berry and handed them out to the others. Shi Tou, Aman, and Xiao Xian hesitated, but Zhuo Yan insisted, “Fruit after dinner.” They reluctantly took some, and Zhuo Yan and A-Yin ate theirs quickly, their mouths a bit purple.

Leaning against the stove, Zhuo Yan smiled happily.

A-Yin grinned back at him, his tail swaying in delight.

The other three: …

“Is Zhuo Yan in heat?”

“Are Zhuo Yan and A-Yin going to mate? Should we leave?”

“Should we stop burning firewood? I still haven’t finished sharpening the bone knife.”

“…Let’s wait and see. If they mate, we’ll run.”

They exchanged looks, deciding to dig into their noodles first and hold off on running for now.