When he reached the cave, he saw Lang Yan coming over with a bowl and chopsticks.

Lin Qiu stepped aside. Lang Yan asked, “You’re awake?” 

Lin Qiu replied, “Mm-hmm.”

Lang Yan handed him the bowl.

“I saved this for you. Take your time eating—we’re leaving.”

Lang Yan noticed the faint flush on Lin Qiu’s face and, thinking he might be sick, asked, “Are you feeling unwell?”

Lin Qiu held the bowl blankly, the icy shell around him seeming as if it would shatter at the slightest touch. 

Look at that aloof, cold figure—yet he’s embarrassingly shy. His feigned composure is actually quite endearing. Lang Yan had actually deliberately left Qiu out of his den.

They weren’t mates, and with Qiu acting this way, his beastmen companions might inevitably misunderstand, which wouldn’t be good for anyone.

But if he brought it up directly, Qiu—being so shy—would surely run far away. Lang Yan didn’t want to see that happen, so he handed the initiative to Lin Qiu, allowing him to weigh his options.

“I’m sorry.”

Lang Yan: “Hm?”

“I… ended up sleeping in your grass nest,” Lin Qiu said softly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll go raise the edges after we finish eating.” Lang Yan chuckled quietly. “Uh, okay. I’m off.”

“Oh.” The corners of Lin Qiu’s eyes were a little red. He spoke in a strained voice, his face a picture of composure—but the moment he was teased, he was sure to run off. It was quite the contrast, but in Lang Yan’s eyes, it was endearing.

Just like when he was a kid—whining for a hug, then turning his back the moment he got close, only to go limp and rest his head on his shoulder once he was held, his little paws clinging tightly.

He’s still the same.

Once the main force of beastmen had left, Lin Qiu had already managed to soothe himself. It was all just a pretense.

Who stays conscious while sleeping, constantly on guard? Life used to be exhausting enough; now that he was somewhat comfortable, that’s all that mattered. Lin Qiu had soothed himself.

After finishing his morning duties with the priest, he spent the afternoon working with Lang Mo and his group to prepare the clay. As for the batch left over from earlier, once they’d gathered enough firewood today, they could start firing it in the kiln. While Lin Qiu was busy with pottery, Lang An and his group wasn’t idle in the fields either.

The priest summoned all the beastmen except Lang Qiu and the first squad of the guard to that area. The fields were wide, so the transplanting had to be done quickly.

The sub-beastmen were meticulous, so they handled the thinning and transplanting. Lang Shi and Lang Mu, leading the Second Guard Squad, dug furrows in the fields along the lines that had been marked out in advance.

The wolves were massive; sometimes a single swipe of their paw would flatten an entire patch of seedlings.

Lang Mu’s squad of beastmen was scolded by Lang An and his group.

The sound carried far, and even Lin Qiu and the others in the cave on the edge of the mountain could hear it. Lang Mo gloated, “He doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it. Just listen to how Lang An is scolding him.” Lin Qiu stomped on the mud and said nothing.

Once the clay was mixed, they continued rolling out strips of clay to shape into pots. After having soup for dinner last night, the beastmen realized the benefits of clay bowls, and now they were all clamoring for one of their own.

Beastmen had huge appetites; a single bowl was about the size of a small earthenware basin. There was plenty to make. After playing with clay all afternoon, the once-half-empty cave was slowly filling up.

After resting for the night, they cleaned out the kiln the next day. Once they were sure there was no shortage of helpers in the fields and enough firewood had been gathered, Lin Qiu began firing the pottery. He was more composed this time than the first; knowing it would take a long time, he made sure the beastmen got a good night’s sleep first.

As before, the firing began after noon, with Lang Mo clan tending the fire.

Once the firing began, the beastmen were indispensable; the beastmen from Lang Shi and Lang Mo’s squad stayed behind to tend the fire, while Lin Qiu continued to shuttle back and forth between the two sites. Busy as he was, he soon put the incident in the cave out of his mind, and even Lang Yan was there now.

As before, it wasn’t until the following afternoon that the kiln fire died down.

Over in the fields, thinning and transplanting were complete, and the drainage ditches had been dug. The beastmen scattered wood ash over the soil, turning it as black as a block of stinky tofu.

After waiting two days, it was finally time to open the kiln once more.

The first batch of practice clay pots and jars was gone, and the beastmen had made each clay form roughly the same size. Among them, the large earthenware bowls stood out the most; one of them, which Lin Qiu could hold in both hands, weighed several jin.

Held in Lang Yan’s palm—as wide as a palm leaf—it looked just right.

They made fifty of these bowls in one batch, along with five large clay cooking pots and five clay pots. Lin Qiu had actually planned to make water jars or grain storage jars as well, but those were too large and still a bit too challenging at this stage.

Looking at all the pottery that had been brought out, Lin Qiu saw that twenty-one bowls were intact, only a few were broken, but nearly half had cracks.

This is especially true of clay cooking pots and jars—they’re either broken or cracked. You can use them to hold things, but not water.

Still no good.

Lang Mo beckoned, and the beastmen from the First Guard Squad dragged Lang Shi over. They huddled together, their hair a tangled mess of ash from the kiln, and began discussing the matter in a flurry of voices.

“Why are there cracked ones?”

“Was the clay a little too dry?”

“Maybe the pottery shards weren’t ground fine enough, or we didn’t add enough of them.”

Lin Qiu simply discussed and brainstormed improvements with the beastmen as they continued working. Watching the beastmen tug at their hair until it flew everywhere, Lin Qiu remained silent. “Don’t put so much pressure on yourselves—we’ll make adjustments gradually.”

The beastmen looked up abruptly.

They saw that the skin under Lin Qiu’s eyes had turned pale.

It wasn’t that they were putting too much pressure on themselves—it was that Qiu was pushing himself even harder than they were! Driven by that, they had no choice but to work even harder. They were just afraid that Lin Qiu’s health was so fragile he might accidentally burn out and die before they did!

The beastmen stared at him silently for a moment. After a brief lull, they resumed huddling together, their conversation growing even more animated.

Lin Qiu felt he’d been in the cave by the mountain for a bit too long; his head was spinning. Watching the sky outside gradually darken again, he slowly stood up. His bones cracked with a loud snap, and the beastmen all turned to look at him in unison.

Lin Qiu: “I’ve been sitting here too long.”

The Beastmen: “Huh…”

We’ve been sitting just as long—why haven’t we heard our bones creak? No, no—I won’t let Qiu suffer through this any longer.

It was a long day.

The hunting party and the gathering party arrived.

They didn’t bag much game today, but the gathering party brought back quite a few plants—especially yams, tied in bundles with vines, looking like a shipment straight from the mountains.

Was it easy to dig up?

Lin Qiu saw Lang Yan directing the beastmen to set up the fish traps; he paused for a moment, then strolled leisurely toward the riverbank. Lang Yan was trailing behind the beastmen; upon seeing Lin Qiu approach, he waited a moment before following him over.

Lin Qiu: “Did the hunting party and the gathering party go to the same place?” 

Lang Yan: “More or less the same route.”

It’s just a matter of habit.

They weren’t the only tribe on the mainland; the sub-beastmen traveled with them. Although they were within their tribal territory, they could provide timely backup in case of danger.

Lin Qiu understood.

Just then, they reached the riverbank.

All the tribe’s dozens of fish traps had been set in the water; the beastmen had already checked them once that morning, and both the hunting party and the gathering party had eaten some fish before setting out.

In a moment, the beastmen paired up, each pair taking charge of a fish trap.

Lin Qiu looked closer. The beastmen, with their brute strength, gave the traps a sharp tug.

With a loud snap—

The beastman pulling on the vines fell backward. Lin Qiu watched as the cage, which had just been raised, broke free from the vines and slowly sank into the water. Before he could react, the beastman standing guard nearby jumped in after it.

It seemed they were quite experienced at this.

Lin Qiu felt a sudden tug on his arm as Lang Yan gently pulled him further away from the shore. Lin Qiu asked, “Do these fish traps fall into the water often?”

Lang Shi, standing nearby, pulled steadily with tense arms—unlike the other beastman’s frantic pace—and replied, “One out of every ten falls.”

Lin Qiu watched as the fish traps were hauled up one after another; most contained fish, though there were still fewer than when they first set them out.

It was only because they had enough traps to make up the difference that they could barely provide enough food for the tribe’s beastmen.

Moreover, no matter how supple the vines were, they inevitably warped the fish traps; the good ones would need some repairs. Seeing the beastman who had dived into the water haul a trap ashore, Lin Qiu said to Lang Yan, “The vines don’t seem to be holding up.” 

Lang Yan replied, “We’ll make do.”

Once the fish were hauled in, the beastmen began gutting them right on the riverbank. They removed the guts and gills and tossed them into the empty fish traps—a sustainable cycle. Lin Qiu watched for a while, then asked Lang Yan to lead him away from the riverbank.

Although they now had fish traps, the rule forbidding sub-beastmen and underage beastmen from approaching the riverbank remained strictly enforced. Upon reaching Wolf Mountain, Lin Qiu went to find Lang Bei.

The female beastman was lying by the campfire, her hands behind her head, her eyes closed, chewing on that sweet-tasting grass. Lin Qiu’s footsteps startled the beastman; she opened her eyes and sat up immediately, a smile in her eyes.

“Qiu, what are we having for dinner tonight? We dug up a lot of yams.”

Over there, Lang An had taken the beastmen to peel the yams. Today, even if they did nothing but munch on yams, they’d have their fill. Lang Bei shook her paws.

“We did manage to dig some up, though the joints between my fingers are a little sore.” Lin Qiu stopped beside her.

He wasn’t very familiar with Lang Bei and wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Lang Yan said, “Sit down and talk.”

He produced a yellow-skinned fruit from somewhere, handed it to Lin Qiu, and sat down beside her. Lin Qiu took it—they’d met before, so they weren’t strangers anymore.

Seeing that he was serious, Lang Bei chewed the sweet grass in her mouth a few times, swallowed it, and then fixed her two pairs of eyes—one black, one white—on Lin Qiu. Her eyes were large and bright.

Lin Qiu: “Has your foraging team ever come across any… plants with bark that’s hard to break? They’re very tough—you can tie things up with them just like vines…”

Lang Bei: “Yeah, quite a few.” 

“What’s that for?” 

“To make rope.”

“Wouldn’t a leather cord work?”

Lang Yan: “We’ve run out of leather ropes in the tribe; we need to make some more. But even though there’s no shortage of game right now, leather is in short supply, so we can’t make many.” 

Lang Bei nodded.

“Then we’ll cut some tomorrow…” He paused, glanced at Lang Yan, and said directly, “Qiu, do you want to come out with us to gather some?”

Lang Yan’s gaze shifted slightly toward Lin Qiu. Lin Qiu tilted his head and met Lang Yan’s eyes.

“Is that okay?”

Lang Yan: “Yes.”

Lang Yan suddenly realized he should “lift the restrictions” on Lin Qiu. Based on the pottery he’d made for the tribe alone, he could inform the beastmen that Lin Qiu had passed his probationary period.

Lin Qiu’s eyes lit up slightly. “Then I’ll go.”

In truth, he’d always wanted to go out and see the world, but had been held back by the mistakes of his original host.

“Then you’ll have to get up early tomorrow,” Lang Bei said with a straight face.

Everyone had seen it: Qiu often rolled into the King’s den in the morning, burrowing into the King’s fur and sleeping soundly. Among all the beastmen in the tribe, he was the one who slept the longest.

Lin Qiu: “Okay.”

As soon as Lang Mo and the others arrived, they heard the gathering party recruiting people. They immediately surrounded Lin Qiu and asked, “Qiu, are you joining the gathering party?” 

Lin Qiu looked confused. “No, I’m not.”

“Then what are you doing out with the gathering team?”

Lin Qiu: “To find some materials.”

“Oh…” Finding materials is fine; if Qiu keeps making pottery, it’ll be too much pressure on them.

The beastmen didn’t press the matter further. Clutching their aching, throbbing heads, they rolled onto the ground, shifted back into their original forms, and lay there with vacant stares, motionless as giant stuffed animals.

Now, the art of clay modeling isn’t just a simple, fun pastime.

They had to think about the proportions, keep an eye on the heat, and their hands were never clean from day to day.

“Aah!” Lang Mo slapped his head.

Why do I even have to think about this!

This is so exhausting—more tiring than a full day of hunting!

Lang Bei looked at the few pottery-making beastmen, who seemed a bit odd, and quietly backed away. They must have gone crazy from making pottery.