Chapter 19: Pottery Making
With so many mien fruits piled at home, Jian Mo decided to give winemaking a try.
After all, even if it didn’t work out, only a small amount of mien fruits would be wasted, so the risk was minimal.
He brought back a basket of mien fruits that had been soaking in the river.
Wu Jiong, helping out, asked, “Is it the same process as making mien fruit cakes?”
“No, no,” Jian Mo replied. “We stop at the mashing step—everything after that is different.”
He outlined his plan: “I’m not going to use lye water this time. I’ll just crush the fruits, steam them, and then mix them with the leftover residue of the fruit wine.”
Wu Jiong raised an eyebrow. “Won’t the final product still have that mien fruit taste? That might not be very appealing.”
Jian Mo was optimistic. “It won’t matter. I plan to distill it afterward. Once it’s distilled, it’ll just taste like regular spirits, without much of the original flavor.”
Since only a small amount of mien fruits was at stake, Wu Jiong let him proceed without further questions.
Together, they mashed the fruits and steamed them.
The steamed mien fruits didn’t smell particularly good but were soft and starchy, similar to thoroughly cooked beans. A light press turned them into a smooth paste, confirming the high starch content.
Once the steamed fruit cooled, Jian Mo scooped it into a large ceramic jar that had been washed with hot water and dried. He then added the leftover dregs from the bottom of a fruit wine jar and stirred everything thoroughly.
Ideally, he would have used yeast for this step, but he didn’t have any on hand. The fruit wine dregs, fermented with natural yeast, would have to suffice.
However, without proper fermentation starters, the process might not be as efficient, likely requiring a longer fermentation period.
After thoroughly mixing the contents, Jian Mo placed dry leaves over the jar’s mouth and secured them tightly with string. He then set the ceramic jar near the hearth, where the warmth would provide an ideal environment for fermentation.
Watching the process, Wu Jiong asked, “That’s it?”
Jian Mo nodded cautiously. “It should be. We’ll check on it every couple of days. If something goes wrong, we’ll figure it out then.”
Despite the limitations, Jian Mo was hopeful about his experimental mien fruit wine.
Over the following days, Jian Mo opened the jar twice to check its progress. Fermentation had clearly begun, with the yeast breaking down the fruit starch. Although the strong mien fruit odor persisted, a faint aroma of alcohol was beginning to emerge.
The mien fruits themselves remained their usual color, with no signs of red, blue, or green hues that would indicate contamination by foreign bacteria. This reassured Jian Mo that the batch was progressing well.
However, there was one problem: the jar kept leaking water from the bottom.
The first time Jian Mo noticed it, he assumed some water had accidentally splashed onto the floor during cooking and wiped it up with dry leaves.
The second time, he dismissed it as a coincidence.
But the third time, he realized something was wrong. Lifting the jar and inspecting it closely, he saw no visible cracks or damage—it appeared perfectly intact.
Wu Jiong noticed Jian Mo scrutinizing the jar. “What’s going on?”
Jian Mo turned to him. “Come over here and feel this. I think the jar might be seeping water. Something’s not right.”
Wu Jiong inspected the jar and commented, “It’s not too bad—only a little seepage.”
Jian Mo looked puzzled.
Wu Jiong added, “A jar like this is decent. You’ll still have most of the contents left.”
Jian Mo was incredulous. “This is what you call decent?!”
Wu Jiong touched the jar again, confused by Jian Mo’s reaction. “What’s the problem?”
Jian Mo wondered if Wu Jiong simply didn’t care much about kitchen-related matters and therefore lacked perspective. To confirm, he shared his concern with Qing Kuo and the others.
To his surprise, their reactions were completely nonchalant. Zhou Fu even tried to console him. “Your jar’s pretty good, honestly. Mine is awful—it cracked while I was using it, and everything inside leaked out.”
Jian Mo was baffled. “How does a jar just crack while being used?”
Qing Kuo laughed lightly. “What doesn’t wear out over time?”
Zhou Fu offered a suggestion. “If you really hate the wet mess underneath, you can scoop up some dirt and pack it under the jar. That way, the water won’t seep out.”
Jian Mo sighed. “So you’re basically suggesting an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ solution?”
Everyone laughed, and Zhou Fu nodded earnestly. “Exactly.”
The area near the hearth was perpetually damp, which was both irritating and unsanitary. Reluctantly, Jian Mo decided to take their advice. He went outside to dig up some soil to pack under the jar.
The local jars seemed to lack a glazed coating, making them porous. While they were fine for storing dry goods, they revealed their limitations when used for liquids.
Yet another new life lesson, Jian Mo thought wryly. Back on Earth, he would never have guessed that jars could seep water.
Behind the house, the soil was dense and fine, with a weighty texture. It looked quite different from ordinary dirt. Jian Mo hauled a basket of it back home and asked Wu Jiong, “Is this the type of clay used to make pottery?”
Wu Jiong inspected it closely and nodded. “It is. Why?”
Jian Mo’s eyes lit up. “When does the tribe make pottery? I want to try making some myself. Maybe I can create jars that don’t leak.”
In this world, it wasn’t possible to simply buy household items. Everything—tools, woodenware, pottery—was handcrafted by the tribe.
Wu Jiong replied, “We’re planning to make some soon. Ask Qing Kuo about the timing.”
While Wu Jiong was the tribe’s leader, Qing Kuo managed most of the crafting and gathering activities. He was fair and reliable, and the tribe respected his judgment.
When Jian Mo asked Qing Kuo about the pottery schedule, Qing Kuo thought for a moment and said, “Now that it’s colder and there’s not much left to gather outside, we can start in a few days.”
Jian Mo’s face brightened. “That’s great! I want to join.”
Qing Kuo nodded. “Sure. We’ll make some pottery for the tribe and some for personal use. You can make whatever you want for yourself, and we’ll fire it all together.”
Jian Mo nodded eagerly. “I’d like to try glazing pottery!”
Intrigued, Qing Kuo asked, “What’s glazing?”
Jian Mo explained, “After shaping the pottery, you coat it with a layer of clay slurry and let it dry before firing it again.”
He wasn’t entirely sure about the exact process since he’d never made pottery on Earth. His knowledge came from books and videos.
Qing Kuo thought about it and said, “We can give it a try when the time comes.”
Qing Kuo discussed the plan with the others, and they settled on a date to begin pottery making.
Jian Mo initially thought they would just dig clay from the mountains.
To his surprise, the tribe sourced their clay from the riverbanks. The clay there was finer, lighter in color, and had a smoother texture compared to ordinary soil—likely genuine potter’s clay.
After hauling the clay back, the first step was to sift it.
The tribe used nets woven from tree bark fibers, with gaps about the width of a toothpick. The clay sifted through these nets was incredibly fine, with a texture almost like cocoa powder.
Once the clay was sifted, Qing Kuo and a few experienced sub-beastmen directed the group to add water and knead the mixture into a pliable consistency.
Jian Mo thought they were ready to start making pottery at this stage.
However, the kneaded clay then had to be taken to a large stone mortar near Hong Qiu’s home. There, the clay was repeatedly pounded and worked until it became smooth and compact, forming large, uniform lumps.
The process was grueling. Even though Jian Mo only assisted, he was exhausted and panting by the end.
The cold weather didn’t help. His hands turned icy from exposure to the wind, and the friction from the clay wore down his nails, causing them to separate slightly from the skin—a painful experience.
The sub-beastmen fared slightly better, but they also struggled.
Jian Mo drained and questioning his life choices, had no energy left to speak.
Seeing him in this state, Qing Kuo patted him on the shoulder. “If you’re too tired, go rest. There’s no need to rush.”
“I can manage,” Jian Mo replied, shaking his head.
Qing Kuo didn’t press further, giving him another reassuring pat before moving on.
Using the stone mortar made the process significantly faster than hand-kneading. By the afternoon, the clay lumps were ready.
The group brought the clay back to an open space in the tribe, setting up in a sunny, wind-sheltered spot to start shaping the pottery.
Beastmen, sub-beastmen, and even children who could shapeshift joined in.
Each person had a clay plate to work on and was free to create whatever they wanted.
Jian Mo, inexperienced, stuck close to Qing Kuo and followed his guidance step by step.
Qing Kuo occasionally adjusted Jian Mo’s work to ensure the clay forms were even and wouldn’t crack during firing.
Jian Mo had initially imagined pottery-making to be fun and creative. In practice, it turned out to be labor-intensive, with frequent do-overs required to correct mistakes.
Even someone as patient as Jian Mo was nearly at his wit’s end with the repetitive tasks of pottery-making. He couldn’t imagine how less patient individuals managed to endure it.
The only solace came after shaping the clay when they could carve decorative patterns onto the surface. That at least offered a bit of creativity and fun.
After the clay pieces were shaped, they needed to be air-dried. With the cold, dry weather and strong winds, this didn’t take as long as expected.
Jian Mo decided to focus on preparing glaze.
The problem was, that he wasn’t entirely sure how to make it. He vaguely remembered that glazes involved mineral powders.
If I had traveled to this world back in high school, I might’ve been able to drag the beastman society straight into the industrial age. But now that I’m a college graduate, I’m barely managing to scrape by.
The area near the He’an Tribe didn’t seem to have any suitable minerals, and after wracking his brain, Jian Mo couldn’t think of any local substitutes.
Ultimately, he and Wu Jiong rode Chirpy to the Mengshui Tribe to trade for some reddish-brown clay used for wall painting. It likely contained iron, which Jian Mo thought might work for making glaze.
His patchy chemistry knowledge could only take him so far.
Back home, Jian Mo painstakingly ground the clay into a fine powder, sifting it several times to remove any grit. Once satisfied with the consistency, he mixed the powder into a slurry. He selected five air-dried clay pieces for testing, applied the glaze, and left them to dry again.
Since the experiment was limited to his own pieces, no one objected. Zhou Fu and a few others, finding the process intriguing, brought their own clay pieces to him. Jian Mo agreed to glaze them as well.
With the glaze drying, the tribe began preparing to fire the pottery.
The He’an Tribe didn’t have a proper kiln. On the appointed day, they improvised. They dug up wet clay and built a platform on the flat ground, piling a large stack of firewood on top. The air-dried clay pieces were carefully placed on the firewood.
Around the platform, they stacked another layer of firewood and encased the entire structure in a thick layer of wet clay, leaving a few small openings at the top and bottom.
The result was a large, dome-shaped structure with an open top and three ventilation holes at the base.
Jian Mo guessed the holes allowed air to circulate, fueling the fire and increasing the intensity of the heat. The dome design seemed efficient for trapping heat and minimizing energy loss.
How did the tribe figure out this technique? Jian Mo wondered, impressed by its ingenuity. The beastman civilization was more advanced than it seemed.
Once the makeshift kiln was complete, they began the firing process.
This was another grueling task. Jian Mo took his turn guarding the kiln, constantly checking the intensity of the flames through the openings. If the fire wasn’t strong enough, they used fans to stoke it. They also had to monitor the wood supply inside, adding more as needed without disturbing the pottery. The wood had to be distributed evenly to maintain consistent heat.
Despite the freezing weather, Jian Mo worked up a sweat from the intense heat. By the time the kiln fire began to die down that evening, he was utterly drained.
When they returned home, Wu Jiong suggested, “Take a break. I’ll make dinner tonight.”
Slumping into a chair after gulping down a large jar of cooled water, Jian Mo sighed, “Please do. I’m completely spent.”
Wu Jiong busied himself with dinner. “How did the firing go?”
Jian Mo replied, “Qing Kuo said it looks fine so far, but we won’t know for sure until we open the kiln tomorrow.”
Eager to see the results, Jian Mo got up unusually early the next day. He sprang out of bed and, after informing Wu Jiong, ran to find Qing Kuo.
When Jian Mo found him, Qing Kuo was yawning. “The pottery isn’t going anywhere. Why the rush?”
“I want to see my handiwork!” Jian Mo exclaimed, practically dragging Qing Kuo along.
Qing Kuo laughed. “Fine. Go find Ye Luo and the others. Let’s gather at the kiln and open it up.”
Jian Mo wasted no time rallying the group.
At the kiln, they carefully removed the dried clay that encased it, slowly exposing its contents.
The scene inside was nothing like Jian Mo had imagined.
The first thing he saw was a heap of shattered fragments.
The fired pottery was mostly a pale earthy color, far from the reddish-brown hue he had expected.
Jian Mo was crestfallen. “Why does it look like this?”
Qing Kuo asked, “What’s wrong with it?”
Holding up a piece, Jian Mo said, “Why isn’t it the same color as the pottery we usually use?”
Qing Kuo glanced at it. “Freshly fired pottery looks like that. It only darkens after prolonged use.”
Setting the piece aside, Jian Mo searched for the pieces he had glazed.
Of the twelve glazed pieces—five of his own and seven from others—he only found two intact. One had a long crack running through it, while the other was unevenly glazed, with splotchy coverage and no proper glaze finish.
Jian Mo sighed deeply. The exhaustion of the past two days caught up with him, and he sank to the ground. “This isn’t what I expected at all. The success rate is way too low.”
Qing Kuo looked over and shrugged. “That’s normal.”
“Normal? With this much waste?” Jian Mo felt like his heart was breaking.
Qing Kuo chuckled. “If pottery didn’t break so often, we wouldn’t need to fire a new batch every season.”
Jian Mo stared at the remaining pieces in silence, too discouraged to respond.
Meanwhile, Qing Kuo directed the others to sort through the kiln’s contents.
The intact pottery was set aside for daily use. Even the less damaged fragments were carefully collected for potential repurposing rather than discarded.
Jian Mo watched as a sub-beastman he wasn’t particularly familiar with picked up a chipped clay jar, smoothed the edges slightly, and declared it would make a good vase. The sub-beastman then plucked a bunch of grass nearby and placed it inside.
The delicate blades, swaying gently in the breeze, formed a lush green bouquet above the jar’s mouth—a simple yet beautiful arrangement.
Despite the harsh environment, these people still pursued beauty.
The sight left Jian Mo deeply moved.
Soon, all the pottery was removed from the kiln.
Of Jian Mo’s personal pieces, only four were usable: a teapot, a clay jar, a clay plate, and a clay bowl. The glazed jar was the standout among them.
While Jian Mo felt disappointed by the low success rate, the others seemed impressed. This likely meant that pottery-making usually resulted in even lower yields.
Zhou Fu, holding the unevenly glazed jar with a broad grin, said, “This jar with glaze is so pretty! It looks like little flowers floating on it. Next time, I want to make more glazed pottery.”
Qing Kuo agreed. “Next time, we could try painting designs with the glaze.”
Jian Mo sighed, his enthusiasm dimmed. “Our kiln doesn’t get hot enough. Even with glaze, it might not work properly.”
Qing Kuo tilted his head. “Not hot enough? How can we make it hotter?”
Jian Mo hesitated, his forgotten high school science lessons resurfacing in fragments. “Maybe… we could try burning charcoal instead of wood? And use a bellows to pump in more air?”
Qing Kuo didn’t fully understand, but given Jian Mo’s track record of innovation, he nodded. “We’ll give it a shot next time.”
With the pottery sorted, everyone returned home to prepare meals and make the most of the remaining days for gathering supplies.
According to Qing Kuo and the others, winter was just a few days away—no more than ten at most.
Jian Mo didn’t know how they discerned this, but the long autumn was undeniable.
When Jian Mo first arrived in this world, it was already autumn. Based on his tally, he’d been here for 93 days, and it was still autumn. Clearly, seasons in this world lasted much longer than on Earth.
That day, Jian Mo joined the group for their usual gathering expedition.
In the afternoon, while they were busy collecting, the sky grew overcast, and the wind began to pick up.
This wind felt different from others.
Jian Mo looked up, as did Qing Kuo, who squinted into the distance. “Winter is coming.”
“Now?” Jian Mo asked.
Qing Kuo sniffed the air and nodded. “It’ll probably snow tonight.”
Standing up, Qing Kuo shouted to the group, “Hurry up, everyone! Let’s head back early and get everything ready.”
They returned to the He’an Tribe swiftly, where other gathering and hunting teams were already back.
Everyone worked to organize and secure the supplies stacked outside, preparing for the imminent winter.
Jian Mo busied himself, laying thick straw bedding for Chirpy and covering the windows of the Tuo Tuo Beasts’ shelter with tree bark to block the cold wind.
The female Tuo Tuo Beast’s belly was enormous and firm—it seemed she was due to give birth soon.
That evening, Wu Jiong brought Jian Mo new fur bedding, a fur quilt, and a set of fur coats.
Even so, as Jian Mo lay down after cleaning himself up, he still felt a chill.
The wind howled, seeping through gaps in the stone walls and windows, swirling inside the house.
For the first time, Jian Mo realized that stone houses weren’t completely draft-proof. His feet stayed icy cold despite being tucked under the covers.
Jian Mo tossed and turned under his blanket.
From the opposite corner of the second floor, Wu Jiong called out, “Can’t sleep? Are you cold?”
Jian Mo, embarrassed, muttered, “I’m fine, just not used to the season change. I’ll fall asleep eventually.”
Wu Jiong offered, “I could shift into my beast form. You’d stay warmer sleeping on me.”
Startled, Jian Mo quickly declined. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m fine for now.”
Wu Jiong didn’t press further. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
In the quiet darkness, the conversation paused for a moment before Jian Mo spoke again, trying to keep the chat going. “Your beast form is so big. Do you still sleep up here when you shift?”
Wu Jiong’s calm reply came through the shadows. “Yes. The house is sturdy. I’ve spent several winters in beast form here.”
“That’s amazing,” Jian Mo murmured. “Do you shift because it’s warmer when you are in beat form?”
“Pretty much,” Wu Jiong replied.
Their soft exchange continued until Jian Mo, lulled by the warmth of the conversation, drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, he woke to Wu Jiong gently shaking him.
“Wake up,” Wu Jiong said, his face hovering above Jian Mo’s. “The Tuo Tuo Beast is about to give birth.”
Jian Mo jolted upright. “Now?”
Wu Jiong nodded. “Her water broke a while ago.”
Throwing off the fur blanket, Jian Mo scrambled out of bed. “I’m going to check on her!”
“Winter is coming.”
/war-flashback to got