Chapter 17
After repeatedly promising not to stray too far from the tribe and to stay in the vicinity, Hua Shi’an was finally able to get away. Before leaving, he reached out and swiped the back basket from Chief Mu’s shoulder.
With warm chestnuts in his pocket, Hua Shi’an tirelessly bustled through the jungle all morning. He went to the hill where Chang Yueyue had found ginger to dig some up, dug up blueberry seedlings from the thickets by the roadside, and didn’t waste the mushrooms he happened upon, picking them up and tossing them into his back basket.
Compared to the tedious tasks of boiling salt and weaving, Hua Shi’an preferred exploring the jungle.
The feeling of being up close and personal with nature was wonderful. Listening to the rustling of leaves in the wind and smelling the scent of grass and earth in the air, he felt refreshed and invigorated.
It would be even better if he could find another plant that was as delicious and filling as chestnuts. Unfortunately, although Hua Shi’an had been keeping a special eye out, he had yet to make any new discoveries.
On his way home, he passed by the Formosan sugar palm forest again. Hua Shi’an was scarred from weaving the coir skirt and didn’t even want to look at it. But when he inadvertently looked down and saw his mud-covered bare feet, he frowned and couldn’t help but stop.
Might as well cut some. The back basket wasn’t full yet. He could cut some, take them back, and weave them when he was in a better mood. Hua Shi’an kept brainwashing himself, and in the end, he obediently picked up his stone knife and walked to the foot of a Formosan sugar palm.
With a cut and a tear, a light leaf sheath fell into his palm and was placed on the empty ground beside him.
As he cut the coir sheets, he pondered the weaving method for straw sandals, and Hua Shi’an’s thoughts gradually drifted away. One documentary after another played in his mind. By the time he came back to his senses, several thick stacks of coir sheets had piled up in the gaps between the trees.
As usual, he tied the coir sheets tightly with vines and placed them horizontally on the back basket. To prevent them from falling off while he walked, Hua Shi’an broke off a few more vines and tied the coir sheets and the back basket firmly together.
The beastman tribe didn’t have the habit of eating lunch. At noon, when the sun was at its peak, the injured and elderly who couldn’t go out to work were still busy in the clearing. The bamboo slats prepared by the beastmen before they left were neatly stacked on the ground, and in their rough but nimble hands, they were transformed into sturdy back baskets.
Instead of joining the crowd in the clearing, amidst the enthusiastic greetings of the tribe members, Hua Shi’an carried the heavy back basket and walked straight back to his crooked-necked tree.
He untied the vines, unloaded the coir sheets, and poured out the palm-sized ginger chunks and blueberry seedlings with intact roots from the back basket. Hua Shi’an sat slumped at the entrance of the tree hollow to catch his breath and at the same time, contemplated where to start.
The tribe didn’t have tools like hoes. To clear the turf and reclaim the wasteland would undoubtedly require a lot of effort.
Knowing his own limitations, Hua Shi’an didn’t plan for large-scale planting on his first try. He had only dug up six blueberry plants and a dozen or so ginger stalks.
So… there was no need to even think about the meadow. The trees were spaced ten to twenty meters apart, which was enough space to build a house, let alone a vegetable patch.
Most importantly, the soil in the gaps between the trees was loose, not as compact as the meadow.
He would do it as soon as he thought of it. Hua Shi’an quickly stood up and pulled out a sharp-tipped stone knife from the pile of ginger. This was the most suitable tool for digging holes and turning soil that he had specially borrowed from a beastman last night.
After circling the crooked-necked tree, Hua Shi’an quickly chose a spot and squatted down on the side facing the meadow, holding the sharp knife.
The area around the trees used to be a thicket. Although the weeds and bushes on the surface had been cleared, the roots of the trees and grass still remained in the soil. Hua Shi’an used both his hands and the knife, digging and pulling, and ended up sweating profusely in the breezy and sunny early autumn.
His forehead was wet, and large beads of sweat dripped down his temples. Hua Shi’an lifted his arm and wiped his face haphazardly. Looking at the six holes of the same size at his feet, a joyful smile appeared on his lips.
He placed the six blueberry plants steadily into the holes, slowly filled them with the dug-up soil, and gently pressed it down. Then, Hua Shi’an went back to the tree hollow, got his bamboo tube for eating, and ran to the river a few times to water the transplanted blueberries and help them take root.
With the blueberries planted, it was time for the ginger. But ginger couldn’t just be buried in the soil. To ensure its survival rate, the tender shoots had to be sprouted first before planting.
No insect-bitten ones, no withered ones…
Hua Shi’an sat at the entrance of the cave, picking and choosing, selecting the best quality ginger for seeds. Finally, he used a sharp knife to cut the selected ginger into pieces, ensuring that each piece had two buds.
After preparing the ginger seeds, he had to make a sprouting bed. Hua Shi’an looked around, untied the vines binding the coir sheets, and picked two relatively complete and thick sheets from inside, overlapping them to serve as the sprouting bed.
He scraped some plant ash from the fire in the clearing and then scooped up some of the soil he had just dug up from the foot of the tree. He mixed the soil and plant ash with a small amount of water, buried the cut ginger seeds one by one, and finally, all he had to do was wrap the coir sheets and tie them with vines.
Sunlight helps with sprouting. Hua Shi’an stretched and stood up, leaving the ginger seeds he had spent half a day fussing over at the foot of the tree.
It was still early, probably only around three in the afternoon by the look of the sun.
He was tired when he was busy, but bored when he was idle. Hua Shi’an went to the river to wash his face, then took a stroll in the clearing, chatted with Hong Yinglan who was weaving a back basket, and then wandered back to the foot of his crooked-necked tree with nothing to do.
Shoes were also a necessity. The sooner he wove them, the sooner he could enjoy them! Hua Shi’an managed to coax himself, and reluctantly sat down at the foot of the tree, tearing apart the coir sheets with a cold face.
Tearing coir sheets, twisting coir rope—such meticulous work was really tedious.
Fortunately, practice makes perfect. Hua Shi’an’s speed gradually increased.
From bright sunshine, to sunset, to nightfall, the pile of Formosan sugar palm leaf sheaths under the crooked-necked tree first turned into coir fibers, then into coir rope, and finally into a pair of comfortable and soft coir shoes.
Unlike the shoes in modern society that completely enclosed the foot, this pair of coir shoes was more like slippers, or rather… flip-flops.
The entire pair of shoes was woven from coir rope, with nothing else mixed in. For the sole, Hua Shi’an used the same technique as for weaving the back basket: a coir rope base, with coir rope wrapped and woven until it was firm and tight.
To make them fit better and not fall off while walking, Hua Shi’an took inspiration from flip-flops and wove two strands of coir rope between the big toe and the second toe.
They were like slippers, but they couldn’t really be made into slippers. It would be more troublesome if the shoes fell off after a few steps. For this reason, he added two more coir ropes to the middle and back of the sole, which could be tied around the ankle as shoelaces.
Now they wouldn’t fall off easily, but the flip-flops had turned into ugly sandals.
The coir shoes were the same size in the front and back and were not at all beautiful, but they were soft and fit well, and at least they were comfortable to wear. Hua Shi’an was very satisfied. In any case, he wouldn’t have to worry about his feet getting hurt while traversing the forest in the future.
Of course, he would have to improve them in the future when he had tools. Perhaps he could try using the method for making cloth shoes, cutting a stack of coir sheets as insoles, and then sewing on the woven upper.
He had given away the coir skirt he had spent three days knitting. It was about time he wore the coir shoes he had spent an afternoon weaving himself. Hua Shi’an hummed an out-of-tune little song and happily put on his new shoes.
