I am a Primitive Man-Chapter 939: Rice Planting

Today was a momentous day for the Green Sparrow Tribe.

After half a year of preparation, the new crop for the tribe—rice—was finally ready to be planted in the fields.

Han Cheng valued rice extremely highly. In his mind, rice was an essential staple food, second only to wheat.

As for millet, sorghum, corn, soybeans, and the like, he didn’t consider them true staples. They were fine to eat occasionally, but too much would be unappetizing.

Of course, since rice had not yet been widely cultivated and wheat was not yet available, the tribe’s main food remained millet.

By now, the morning sun had risen high. In Jingguan City, most members of the Green Sparrow Tribe who were not busy with other tasks had gathered at the newly prepared rice paddy, staring intently at their God’s Son, their faces filled with excitement and anticipation.

Han Cheng, meanwhile, became extremely serious.

He rolled his pants up above his knees and his sleeves up past his elbows.

Prepared in this way, barefoot, he picked up a container of rice seedlings and stepped into the paddy.

The container held neatly arranged seedlings.

This was the tribe’s first attempt at planting rice manually. Except for Han Cheng, who had seen rice cultivation in another life, everyone else was completely unfamiliar with it.

Yet this man, who in another life hadn’t even been an apprentice, now miraculously became the master planter.

The weather was still a little cool. The sunlight was warm on his body, but stepping into the water immediately sent a chill up his legs and feet, spreading quickly throughout his body.

It was a cold that stung a little, but it was tolerable.

Han Cheng didn’t complain. He knew that such discomfort was part of the process to ensure a fruitful autumn harvest.

Having lived two lives, he no longer held childish fantasies. He understood that to gain something in this world, one must pay a price.

A few small fish scattered from the water as he entered, stirring up some mud at the bottom.

After briefly adjusting to the water temperature and recalling his somewhat hazy memories of rice planting, Han Cheng began the work under the watchful eyes of the Green Sparrow Tribe.

He took a handful of seedlings from the container, roots downward, and planted them in the water-soaked paddy.

To avoid scattering the seedlings and to make planting easier, he held them by the roots, not the leaves.

After planting the first handful, he picked up the next and planted it in the field.

Each handful contained three to five seedlings.

This time, he hesitated slightly, uncertain about the spacing between seedlings.

After a brief pause, he planted them, leaving about fifteen centimeters between each handful.

After planting four handfuls in a row, his arms could no longer reach comfortably, so he started a new row beside the first.

After thinking for a moment, he set the row spacing to about 30 centimeters.

Of course, this was only an approximation—no one measured with rulers in the field. Slightly wider or narrower spacing didn’t matter much.

Han Cheng’s arm length was normal; unlike a prodigy like Liu Huangshu, whose arms could reach his knees, he could only plant four rows at a time.

With each step forward, the paddy was filled with four neat rows of bright green seedlings, swaying in the gentle spring breeze.

Watching from the edge, the Green Sparrow Tribe members began to understand.

“So this is planting rice,” they realized. “It doesn’t seem difficult at all.”

Farming had no exact standard. Watching someone a few times and practicing yourself was enough to grasp the basics.

“See? This is rice planting—quite simple. Now, everyone is spread out—ten people per plot. Pay attention to the spacing: fifteen centimeters between seedling clumps in a row, thirty centimeters between adjacent rows.

Don’t worry about perfection; just try to follow this guideline as closely as possible.”

After walking about ten meters, Han Cheng straightened up and smiled at the spectators.

Everyone nodded in agreement. They each took the seedlings they had prepared, spread out, and began planting their first rice paddy, imitating Han Cheng.

At first, they were clumsy, but soon became proficient, planting with growing enthusiasm.

The empty fields gradually turned green under their labor.

By evening, exhausted and sore, the tribe members left the paddy and stood on the ridges, watching the seedlings sway gently in the evening breeze. Their fatigue vanished instantly.

The sight wasn’t particularly beautiful—less vibrant than blooming mountain flowers, less dramatic than the sunset, and less eye-catching than when the women of the tribe climbed trees—but for some reason, they couldn’t get enough of it.

The satisfaction and anticipation they felt were unlike anything they had experienced before.

After admiring the day’s work and as darkness fell, they washed the mud from their legs and tools at the canal and headed back to the inner courtyard of Jingguan City, where smoke rose from cooking fires.

The moon, already out in the afternoon, now shone brightly, casting shadows on the ground.

Walking along the ridges in the moonlight, carrying hoes, they looked like they were returning from the fields under the moon’s glow.

Moonlight streamed like water, night stretched vast and dark. Behind them, the paddies remained unfinished; ahead, the courtyard glowed with warm orange light. The smell of food drifted on the breeze, mingling with occasional dog howls, deer calls, or braying donkeys.

Standing in the water, Han Cheng straightened up to rest briefly.

His gaze unconsciously drifted toward the direction from which the older female primitive had come and gone.

It had been some time since their last visit, and judging by the usual timing, they should be arriving again soon.

Han Cheng looked forward to their arrival—not only because they might bring food, but also because they could bring news of the unknown tribe.

Although so far, they had brought little information.

Still, Han Cheng had high hopes for that tribe—not just because they possessed bronze, pottery, and salt, but also because the older female primitive had mentioned that the tribe had huge prey animals.

On their journeys to trade, they would tie some goods and exchanged food onto these large animals to carry.

Learning this made Han Cheng extremely excited.

He asked Mao to show them donkeys and deer, then inquire further.

The older female primitive said the unknown tribe’s animals were neither donkeys nor deer—they were much larger.

Beyond that, no more information could be obtained.

But for Han Cheng, that was enough. It demanded his attention and sparked great anticipation for the tribe and these large animals.

In his mind, few large animals could be tamed and used extensively in human society: elephants, cows, horses, donkeys, camels…

He learned that the unknown tribe’s large animals were not donkeys or elephants and had no prominent humps.

With those options eliminated, the possibilities were few—an excellent sign for someone seeking large beasts for work.

If nothing went awry, these large animals would likely be either cattle or horses.

Of course, it didn’t rule out the possibility of unknown species appearing in this prehistoric era.

Even so, Han Cheng would not hesitate to put them to work in plowing fields for the tribe.

With these thoughts, he looked again toward the direction of the older female primitive. No one had come yet.

Suppressing his impatience and disappointment, he bent down and continued planting seedlings.

It was fine to have expectations, but the task at hand had to be done well.

Otherwise, if the anticipated events didn’t happen, everything else could fall apart—something he could not afford.

“#￥4@3…”

The older female primitive spoke and set down their loads.

Their tribe members, seeing them return with so much food, were overjoyed.

Yet when they saw the hunchbacked primitive who had come with them, some grew wary—especially the tribe’s leader.

Previously, the hunchback had been taking these goods, and now the tribe was doing the same—essentially taking food that once belonged to the hunchback tribe.

In this era, food was equivalent to wealth.

Fortunately, the hunchback showed no hostility, smiling as before. This reassured the tribe leader considerably.

After some conversation, the older female primitive explained the situation to their leader.

Understanding that these people meant no harm but were seeking the mysterious Green Sparrow Tribe, the leader finally relaxed.

“#@￥4@…”

After setting down the food, the hunchbacked primitive, eager to reach the mysterious tribe, gestured and spoke, hoping the older female primitive would take them there promptly.

The older female primitive shook their heads vigorously.

The hunchback was puzzled—hadn’t they agreed on the way back? Why change now?

How could women be so capricious?

Being clever, the hunchback quickly understood the meaning behind the older female primitive’s unexpected action.

They looked at the food from their own tribe, hesitated, and set down two bundles in front of the older female primitive as an offer: take us to the mysterious tribe, and the food is yours.

Yet the older female primitive shook their heads again.

Though she seemed interested in the food, she refused.

The hunchback was baffled—they couldn’t figure out what she intended.

“@#4SD…”

Amid their confusion, the older female primitive finally spoke.