Chapter 48: Baima

In the past, relying on hunted game, a meager store of noodle fruit, and a handful of dried wild vegetables, the entire tribe would struggle with hunger throughout the winter. Even those of high status, such as the chieftain and the shaman, had to tighten their belts just to survive the cold season safely.

Now, with the addition of purple rice fruit and konjac flour—both of which could be stored for a long time—their winter provisions had increased somewhat. However, Mu Tong was unsure whether relying solely on these two items would be enough to ensure everyone in the tribe weathered the winter safely. Yet, the forest was completely brimming with ingredients; why not find a way to turn them into food that could be preserved for a long time?

For instance, the two kinds of fruit right before her eyes could be used to make jam or brewed into fruit wine, in addition to being eaten fresh.

How many fresh fruits could a person possibly eat? Looking at such an abundant harvest of fruit, if they were not processed in time, most of them would inevitably end up rotting. It would be much better to use some of them to make jam or wine to avoid waste.

However, making jam or fruit wine invariably required sugar. She could use the stock stored in her ring for her own small batches, but if the tribe were to produce it on a large scale, how could she blatantly pull out such a massive amount of sugar?

Alas, making jam or fruit wine would just have to wait until she figured out a solution for the sugar later.

Mu Tong looked at the numerous ripe pineapples and strawberries among the bushes and subconsciously began stuffing them frantically into her storage ring. Rather than letting these ripe fruits rot in the woods, it was better to store a portion of them in her ring.

Thinking of food that could keep for a long time, Mu Tong's thoughts naturally drifted to pickled vegetables. Among the edible items currently available in the tribe, thorny cucumbers and green beans were both suitable for making pickles. When she had some spare time, she would use these two vegetables to make a trial batch. The tribe lacked sugar, but salt was in ample supply—reportedly all traded from the Black Water Tribe.

Mu Tong had used this salt before. It was a pale green salt that carried a fresh, botanical fragrance when smelled, which felt quite magical. The dishes stir-fried with it were no different in quality from the fine salt used in modern times. She wondered how the people of these primitive tribes managed to produce it. Mu Tong thought with amusement: surely it didn't grow on plants like the soy sauce fruit, did it?

Never mind, regardless of where it came from, as long as there was enough salt for her to make pickles, it would suffice. At the mere thought of delicious pickled vegetables, Mu Tong swallowed hard. Today, when she returned, she would whip up some pickled cucumbers and pickled string beans to satisfy her cravings!

While Mu Tong and her group were happily foraging in the mountains, a party of a dozen or so people was slowly approaching the entrance of the tribal valley. Aside from a single woman, the rest of the group consisted of robust men. None of them returned empty-handed; each carried large bundles wrapped in animal skins, making their way back into the tribe in high spirits.

"They're back! The salt-trading party is back!" Cisong and the others, who had been left on watch at the valley entrance, exclaimed with joy upon seeing the arrivals. They hurriedly called over the little children playing nearby, telling them to run back and spread the news.

Everyone still remaining in the tribe came out. The salt-trading expedition had been gone for more than a month, taking away whatever surplus items every household could spare in exchange for the indispensable salt.

The chieftain and the shaman also came out. Trading for salt was a major event for the tribe, and expeditions were organized to trade with the Black Water Tribe at regular intervals, especially before and after the winter. However, now that the tribe possessed the soy sauce fruit, the demand for salt might not be as great as before.

The returning group was none other than the team sent out by the Red Water Tribe to trade for salt.

Walking at the very front were unexpectedly the chieftain's son and daughter: Abu and Baima.

Because they had empty hands, unlike the other clansmen who had to carry heavy bundles of animal skins on their backs, Abu and Baima walked lightly at the very front of the procession.

Baima wore a wreath made of wild flowers upon her head, and a brightly colored floral garland was wrapped around her waist, presenting a rather pleasing sight. However, her crucial areas were left completely uncovered; not only were all three primary points exposed, but upon seeing clansmen up ahead, she deliberately broke into a playful trot, making her ample bosom bounce back and forth.

Yet, upon running up to the assembled members of the tribe, Baima froze in astonishment: Was this truly the Red Water Tribe?

Not only Baima, but the dozen or so sturdy men following behind, including Abu, also dropped the animal skin bundles they were carrying and stared at the fellow tribesmen in sheer disbelief.

The people before them, young and old alike, all had short hair. The men were wrapped in animal skins around their waists and wore unfamiliar items on their feet. The women had neat hair styled in unprecedented fashions, and wore garments woven from grass—were those actually woven from grass?—while likewise wearing unknown items on their feet.

Were these neat-looking, strangely dressed individuals truly the people of their Red Water Tribe?

The members of the salt-trading party were filled with doubt. Yet, looking at the terrain, it was unmistakably their Red Water Tribe! Could their tribe have been forcefully occupied by strangers coming from parts unknown?

"Abu." Basang looked at Abu and Baima, who were staring at him as if petrified, a wave of complacency washing over him. The two children had been gone for so long; seeing such drastic changes in the tribe and its people upon their return, they were probably in absolute shock, weren't they? Haha, just a few days ago, he had been just as stark naked as anyone in the trading party!

At the thought of being stark naked, Basang cast his gaze toward his own equally naked son and daughter. Back when everyone in the tribe went naked, he had felt quite proud. After all, his son and daughter possessed physiques that were among the finest specimens of men and women.

Now that everyone in the tribe had put on clothes while his son and daughter remained bare, a strange feeling arose in his heart. He felt that this somehow made him lose face as an elder, yet he couldn't blame them—they hadn't been in the tribe, so how could they have known about the tribe's transformation? How could they have known that the divine emissary had declared that going unclothed was a sign of disrespect to the heavenly gods?

Ahem, Basang gave a dry cough. It was better to quickly distribute the salt to each household and then let his son and daughter go home to put on their new clothes. Though his children hadn't returned yet, he had instructed his two wives to prepare outfits for them well in advance. Right, "wives"—that term was also taught by the divine emissary. Once a couple lived together, they were supposed to be called husbands and wives.

As soon as Basang spoke, everyone in the salt-trading party recognized him. The sturdy man standing before them was indeed their respected chieftain. But why had the tribe changed so drastically? Especially the gate at the valley entrance, which had been transformed from heavy boulders into a tall wooden gate. Could such a wooden gate really keep wild beasts out at night?

Before Abu could open his mouth to question, Baima, who had been stunned into silence for a long time, suddenly blurted out, "Who wove these grass shoes?"

Looking at the ponytails, braided buns, hairpins, and elaborate hairstyles worn by the women, a deep sense of shock washed over Baima: Just what kind of person had invented or woven these items? And the clothes on their bodies—who had managed to weave such things?

"Eh? Baima, how did you know these are called grass shoes?" Basang lifted the grass shoe on his foot, and though he was asking his daughter, he felt immensely proud inside. His daughter had been clever since childhood; didn't they see? Things taught by the divine emissary were recognized by his daughter instantly without her ever seeing them before. Who could dare say she wasn't smart?