I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 645: Painting

Inside the spacious brick house, Han Cheng sat upright at the long wooden table, holding a charcoal pen in one hand and a ruler in the other, carefully drawing each line with great precision.

This was not his first time creating a drawing, but it was the most meticulous he had ever been.

As the tribe's population grew and daily tasks increased, Han Cheng, the leader of the Green Sparrow Tribe, paradoxically found himself with more free time than before.

After several years, the tribe's people had learned many skills, and much of the work no longer required his direct involvement. Tasks that once depended on him were now being carried out smoothly by others.

Take spring plowing, for example—Han Cheng's main contribution was emphasizing its importance, setting goals, and determining the areas to be cultivated. Once the general direction was established, he could comfortably delegate the work and step back.

This newfound freedom was why he could now seclude himself indoors, focusing on his drawings.

Inside the quiet room, the only sound was the faint scratch of charcoal against paper.

Outside, in the courtyard, the shaman crouched near the door, peeking through the cracks as he waited for a rat to fall into his trap. Yet, he found himself frequently distracted, glancing toward the brick house. frёeωebɳovel.com

Shi Tou, who had been tinkering with some hemp fibers, would pause now and then to steal a glance in the same direction.

Unfortunately, the house’s distance and tightly shut doors and windows prevented them from seeing inside.

This time was different. After bringing in paper, brushes, ink, and pigments, Han Cheng specifically instructed that no one should disturb him.

As a result, the curious onlookers could only gaze longingly from afar, itching with anticipation.

They had grown accustomed to watching Han Cheng create new things, and now their curiosity gnawed at them like an invisible itch.

Especially when they recalled the magical colors he had mixed just days ago, the excitement in the shaman and Shi Tou’s hearts was like a restless kitten flicking its fluffy tail inside their chests.

Eldest Senior Brother and the others worked hard on the plains, turning over the soil as herds of deer pulled plows across the fields, revealing rich, damp earth beneath.

The tribe was too occupied with labor and the pursuit of food to dwell on the expansion plans Han Cheng had mentioned once but never brought up again. Perhaps, they thought, he had forgotten.

Days passed in a busy yet fulfilling rhythm. While everything seemed unchanged, a sudden glance back revealed how much had shifted.

Without notice, tender blades of grass pushed through the earth, and willow trees sprouted fresh buds.

From a distance, the fading yellow of winter was now tinged with a soft, budding green.

Apricot and peach blossoms had yet to bloom, and the swallows had not returned from the south.

But in the forests, bears that had spent the winter curled up in their dens emerged, their bodies lean from months of hunger. Now, they roamed the woods, searching for food to fill their empty bellies and regain lost weight.

During this time, Han Cheng spent most of his daylight hours inside the brick house, sketching and planning the future of the Green Sparrow Tribe.

A few strands of warm spring wind carried drifting streaks of ink-colored clouds across the sky as if someone had casually brushed a wet ink wash over it with a calligraphy brush.

The weather here was as unpredictable as a primitive tribesman’s temperament—even the spring rain fell swiftly and decisively.

The rolling winds and swirling clouds had barely lasted long before a spring rain began to fall.

In the past, the tribe's people did not particularly like rainy days. A heavy downpour meant that hunting and gathering had to be put on hold.

But now, things were different. Having gradually adapted to farming, they welcomed the timely rain with open arms.

As the rain fell, those working hard found a good excuse to rest.

Han Cheng pushed open the window inside the brick house, watching the drizzling rain outside as he added the final touches of color to his work.

The sound of rain filled the air, creating a peaceful atmosphere. Looking at the painting on the table—a piece he had spent more than half a month completing—Han Cheng felt a deep sense of tranquility, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

He didn’t immediately take the painting outside. Instead, he sat there, gazing through the open window, quietly enjoying the calm and leisure of the moment.

Outside, the rain continued to patter down, and occasionally, children ran past, giggling as they held their hands over their heads.

Their bare feet splashed through shallow puddles, sending water droplets flying.

The spring rain did not last long. By the time lunch was over, it had stopped, and in the afternoon, the warm sun peeked out from behind the clouds.

Seeing this, Eldest Senior Brother called for the others to grab their tools and return to the fields.

Just then, the brick house door swung open from within, and Han Cheng stepped out, holding a rolled-up scroll of paper in his hand.

"Divine Child..."

"Divine Child..."

People greeted him as they saw him emerge.

Han Cheng smiled and nodded to them before saying, "No need to rush back to the fields just yet. We've finally had a rainy day—take this time to rest. Let the land dry, and we'll continue plowing tomorrow."

"Besides, I have something to show you all."

Han Cheng instructed the Eldest Senior Brother and the others to gather everyone at the brick house.

As the crowd assembled, they were drawn to the scroll in Han Cheng’s hands, curious about what it contained.

Without keeping them in suspense, Han Cheng unrolled one end of the scroll and handed it to the shaman, signaling him to hold it steady.

Then, gripping the other end, Han Cheng slowly walked to the side, gradually revealing what lay within.

The tribe's members watched with curiosity, whispering among themselves, guessing what their shaman had created this time.

As the scroll unfurled bit by bit, Shi Tou, itching with anticipation, widened his eyes in excitement.

By half of the scroll was revealed, the murmurs in the crowd had ceased entirely.

No one had been told to be quiet, yet everyone instinctively fell silent.

Each person stared at the unfolding painting with rapt attention, their expressions shifting from curiosity to astonishment to sheer disbelief.

Han Cheng glanced at the crowd but said nothing. He continued to unroll the scroll, relishing their reactions.

The awed silence of the people was the greatest affirmation of his recent efforts.

As the final section of the scroll was revealed, the entire painting was laid bare before them, its details on full display.

A long pause followed.

Then, at last, someone spoke—his voice trembling with emotion.

"This... This is our new home?"