Jian Mo went home and retrieved the small metal axe.
The axe was still larger than his palm, but it was sufficient for cutting regular trees.
When the elder chief of the Zhengchi Tribe received it, his face lit up as though he had struck gold. He repeatedly thanked Jian Mo and Wu Jiong.
After bidding farewell to the Zhengchi Tribe members, Jian Mo instructed Wu Jiong to carry nine pieces of stonewood back to the tribe.
The clinic’s house was located within the tribe and benefited from its protection. From the start, Jian Mo had negotiated a split of the earnings: seventy percent for him and thirty percent for the tribe.
As the chief and Jian Mo’s partner, Wu Jiong naturally carried the stonewood to the communal storage cave for the tribe’s supplies.
Wu Jiong nodded, “I’ll take them over in a bit.”
“No rush,” Jian Mo said. “With the stonewood, I want a few more cabinets and boxes, along with tables, chairs, and cutting boards. Select the wood and keep the ones best suited for furniture.”
“Got it,” Wu Jiong agreed.
Jian Mo thought for a moment before adding, “Make some cups, plates, and wooden basins too. Stonewood is more durable. It’d be too much work for you to handle alone, so see if anyone in the tribe can help. We can offer them some payment.”
Wu Jiong agreed readily, “I’ll ask around.”
After moving the nine pieces of stonewood to the communal storage, Wu Jiong made sure to inform the tribe.
In their tribe, materials were jointly managed by three individuals—Wu Jiong, Qing Kuo, and De Jiang. This ensured transparency and minimized the risk of embezzlement.
With collective management, the movement of resources was always clear.
That day, Qing Kuo came to find Jian Mo and saw him busy in the yard, spreading grain seeds.
“What are you doing?” Qing Kuo asked.
“Inducing germination,” Jian Mo replied, looking up. “A couple of days ago, I noticed shoots sprouting from the roots of the large-leaf garlic while watering crops. That’s a sign spring is coming. I figured I’d practice sprouting mien grass seeds early to avoid a rush and potential mistakes later.”
“I almost forgot,” Qing Kuo remarked. “The wind’s been gentler these days. I’ll see if we can organize a group foraging trip during good weather.”
Jian Mo smiled, “Right? We could already feel the river ice thinning when we checked the fish traps this morning.”
All signs pointed to spring’s imminent arrival, and everyone was making preparations.
As Jian Mo wasn’t skilled in hunting or gathering, he focused on farming.
Inducing sprouting wasn’t difficult for him. He often grew catnip and would wrap seeds in damp tissues, placing them in a warm spot to sprout quickly.
With no tissues here, he used fabric. When he checked today, the mien grass seeds had sprouted yellow-green shoots.
The mien grass seeds were small but plump. The sprouts were dense and appeared promising.
Qing Kuo leaned in to inspect them. “Can these be transplanted already?”
Jian Mo shook his head slightly, a bit melancholy at the high germination rate. “I don’t think so. It’s still too cold to plant them.”
“What will you do with these sprouts then?” Qing Kuo asked.
Jian Mo thought for a moment before replying, “If nothing else, we can pluck them and stir-fry them as a vegetable.”
As long as a plant wasn’t toxic, it could be stir-fried—taste notwithstanding.
After examining the sprouts, Jian Mo rewrapped them in fabric and placed them back in a warm spot, intending to let them grow longer. Once they were slightly larger, he would decide how to use them. Worst case, they could feed Chirpy or the Tou Tou Beasts.
After putting the seeds away, Jian Mo remembered, “Why were you looking for me?”
“We’re planning to visit the Mengshui Tribe for trade before spring fully sets in,” Qing Kuo said. “Want to come?”
Jian Mo’s eyes lit up. “Of course! When? What are we trading? Are we trading as individuals or as a tribe?”
“We leave tomorrow,” Qing Kuo replied. “There’s quite a lot to trade. The tribe will trade as a group, but you can also bring personal goods for exchange. With spring coming, tribes will offload their winter stockpiles. This trip should yield good finds.”
“Got it. I’ll pack up,” Jian Mo said excitedly.
The next day, Jian Mo joined the trading party. This time, over ten people and a long procession of Tou Tou Beasts set out. The sub-beastmen sat atop the beasts while the others walked, keeping pace.
Leaving the tribe filled everyone with excitement. Someone began singing along the way, and the cheerful atmosphere spread.
Riding on the back of a giant wolf, Jian Mo couldn’t help but smile as he listened.
Once outside the tribe, Jian Mo noticed patches where the snow and ice had melted, exposing the dark soil underneath.
More animals were active, too. At one point, he spotted a creature resembling a bullfrog croaking on some withered leaves. The sight of their group startled it into retreat.
Jian Mo couldn’t help but stare, wondering if it was edible. The taste of frog meat was unforgettable, and it had been so long since he’d had any.
Upon arriving at the Mengshui Tribe, they were warmly welcomed.
Jian Mo was especially popular. Many from the Mengshui Tribe sought his medical expertise. Several had cold-like symptoms, and others suffered from chronic aches. They eagerly asked for his help.
Jian Mo assisted without hesitation, treating patients in a small house provided by the Mengshui Tribe. As payment, he accepted goods.
By afternoon, news of his arrival spread, drawing visitors from other tribes. One patient even had a fractured leg.
The influx of patients kept Jian Mo busier than expected. Unable to return to the He’an Tribe that day, he and Wu Jiong stayed an extra night.
When they returned home, the tribe had already fed Chirpy and the Tou Tou Beasts. Everything was in order, except the mien grass sprouts had grown to two or three centimeters and turned from yellow to yellow-green.
Wu Jiong helped open the fabric wrap and asked, “Ready to plant?”
“Not yet,” Jian Mo replied. “Look, even the outdoor sprouts have withered from the cold. We should wait.”
“Then should I pull these up and stir-fry them?” Wu Jiong suggested.
Jian Mo quickly stopped him. “No, they’re too tough now. They probably won’t taste good. I have another idea. Let’s try making something else.”
Seeing Jian Mo’s enthusiasm, Wu Jiong asked, “What is it?”
“Mien sugar syrup!” Jian Mo said with a grin.
Jian Mo hadn’t eaten much malt sugar in the past, but thanks to the wealth of information from modern media, he was quite familiar with the process.
Mien grass was a grain-producing plant, and its sprouts should theoretically be usable for making malt sugar.
After listening carefully, Wu Jiong volunteered, “I’ll do the cutting.”
“I’ll find some cloth for filtering,” Jian Mo said. “If this works, we’ll have another source of sugar in the future.”
The two began the process of making malt sugar at home.
Following his memory, Jian Mo directed Wu Jiong to chop the mien grass sprouts into small pieces and then pound them thoroughly in a stone mortar. Afterward, they filtered the crushed pulp with water several times.
The resulting liquid looked like freshly pressed green juice, and it had a pleasant aroma.
Taking a deep breath of the fragrance, Jian Mo poured the liquid into a pot and started simmering it slowly.
Confidently, he explained to Wu Jiong, “Once enough water evaporates, it’ll turn into a thick syrup.”
“How long will that take?” Wu Jiong asked as he watched the ceramic pot.
“I’m not exactly sure,” Jian Mo admitted. “Maybe about half a day. We can’t leave it unattended—we need to keep stirring as it cooks. We’ll know it’s ready when the consistency is just right.”
The fire under the pot burned brightly, and the evaporating steam carried a faintly sweet aroma, warming the entire house.
Jian Mo opened the doors and windows to ventilate as he waited for the malt sugar to take form.
However, after a while, as the water nearly boiled away, the liquid thickened into a pale yellow soup. He scooped out a bit to taste, but it still lacked sweetness.
Clearly, they had failed.
“How could this happen?” Jian Mo was stunned. “This isn’t right. I’ve seen others do it this way.”
Though he had never formally learned how to make malt sugar, he’d watched plenty of demonstrations. It shouldn’t have gone wrong—this wasn’t exactly a complex process.
Wu Jiong, used to seeing Jian Mo’s successes, found the sight of him failing rather endearing. Jian Mo’s bewildered expression, with his wide, cat-like eyes, was unexpectedly cute.
Of course, Wu Jiong knew better than to say so aloud, or Jian Mo might blow a fuse.
Instead, he ruffled Jian Mo’s hair and reassured him, “Maybe mien grass is different from the malt sprouts you’re used to, which is why it didn’t work.”
“Maybe,” Jian Mo conceded reluctantly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Wu Jiong suggested. “Go wash up, and I’ll clean this up. Let’s get some rest.”
Jian Mo sighed dejectedly. “I’ll go take a bath.”
Fortunately, they had plenty of hot water after burning the fire for so long. He could enjoy a thorough wash from head to toe.
Still, he couldn’t help lamenting the wasted firewood and the failed attempt to produce sugar.
While bathing, Jian Mo replayed the entire process in his mind, trying to pinpoint what had gone wrong.
Didn’t plants convert starch into sugar during germination?
If there was sugar in the sprouts, why wasn’t the concentrated juice sweet? Could it be that the sprouts had grown too tall and used up all the sugar?
Later that night, as Jian Mo slept, his thoughts seemed to seep into his dreams.
In his dream, he successfully made malt sugar. The syrup turned out golden and translucent, sweet and sticky.
The moment he tasted the sugar in his dream, he suddenly realized he was dreaming. He jolted awake and sat up.
Startled by the movement, Wu Jiong also sat up, patting Jian Mo’s back. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“No, no, don’t talk,” Jian Mo quickly replied, jumping out of bed barefoot. He ran to the charcoal brazier, grabbed an unused piece of charcoal, and began writing on a wooden board. “Malt sugar, malt, rice! That’s it! How could I forget the rice?”
Wu Jiong walked over. “Still thinking about the malt sugar?”
Jian Mo nodded vigorously. “Yes! I remembered everything in my dream! Look, you need rice for malt sugar. If not rice, then sweet potatoes or other starchy roots should work too.”
The memory of his dream was already fading, but the crucial details he wrote on the wooden board remained.
“What’s rice? And sweet potatoes?” Wu Jiong asked.
“They’re foods from my homeland and the key ingredients for making malt sugar,” Jian Mo explained. “Now it makes sense why the mien grass sprouts didn’t work—they’re just the enzymes. What we need to process is the starch they convert into sugar.”
Jian Mo smiled with satisfaction at his notes. “Let’s try again.”
Wu Jiong agreed without hesitation. “Alright.”
Jian Mo jumped up. “I’ll go fetch some mien grass seeds. We don’t need much—two bowls should be enough.”
The sky outside was already light. It was time to get to work.
Jian Mo ran downstairs, fetched two bowls of mien grass seeds, and placed them in a large basin to soak in warm water.
The second time around, he was much more practiced in germinating the seeds.
In just three days, he had a cloth covered with thick, vibrant sprouts.
This time, the sprouts were lush and tender, with a lovely yellow-green color.
Without hesitation, Jian Mo and Wu Jiong chopped the sprouts and ground them into a paste. They mixed the paste with steamed starchy roots, and then left the mixture in a pot to ferment.
“By tonight, it should be ready,” Jian Mo said after checking.
“Then we’ll finish it this evening,” Wu Jiong replied.
The weather had warmed up, and though the tribe hadn’t begun organized hunting and foraging, individuals could venture out.
Jian Mo and Wu Jiong decided to explore the forest that day to see if they could gather or hunt something.
They were in luck. They found a Peiju fruit tree with a few fruits still hanging from its branches.
Peiju fruits were small nuts with a flavor similar to hazelnuts. When roasted, they had a delightful aroma.
The downside was their size—each fruit was only the size of a fingertip, with kernels no larger than a soybean.
Given the season, finding wild nuts was a fortunate discovery.
The two harvested all the remaining fruits, ending up with a small bag.
Jian Mo estimated it weighed around 15 pounds—roughly the weight of a chubby tomcat.
When they returned, the fermented starch mixture was ready.
Filtering the mixture yielded a bucket of milky-white liquid, entirely different from the juice filtered from the sprouts alone.
Even without boiling, the liquid already had a noticeable sweetness when tasted.
Jian Mo scooped a spoonful for Wu Jiong to try. “It’s sweet, right?”
Wu Jiong tasted it and nodded earnestly.
Jian Mo breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like we’re on the right track. Time to start simmering!”
Dinner that evening consisted of roasted meat and pan-fried patties made from starchy roots and mien grass sprouts.
Though the sprouts had already been filtered once, Jian Mo figured they still contained nutrients and shouldn’t go to waste. Besides, this batch of sprouts was tender enough that they should be perfectly fine for human consumption.
Jian Mo mixed the sprouts with meat and large-leaf garlic powder, frying them into patties that turned out surprisingly tasty. They had a distinct, delightful aroma.
He set aside a few patties for Chirpy, pairing them with other greens before bringing the meal over. Chirpy greeted him enthusiastically, thoroughly enjoying the treat.
By the time Jian Mo returned from feeding the winged beast, he noticed that the liquid in the pot had started to thicken. Under the flickering firelight, he could see the syrup taking on a faint yellow hue.
Jian Mo’s spirits lifted. “This is it! I’m sure we’ll get sugar tonight!”
Wu Jiong, catching the sweet aroma wafting through the room, asked, “Will it be ready by bedtime?”
Jian Mo gave a confident thumbs-up. “Shouldn’t be a problem!”
With nothing else pressing, Jian Mo decided to roast the nuts they had collected earlier. Roasting nuts required patience—using the lowest flame, he stirred them constantly until their aroma filled the air.
The sweet fragrance of syrup from the clay pot mingled with the toasty aroma of nuts roasting on the stone slab.
As Jian Mo inhaled the combined scents, inspiration struck him. “Wait! We could make nut candy out of this!”
Wu Jiong looked up. “Hmm?”
Jian Mo sprang to his feet. “Quick, look for any other nuts we have. Once the kernels are roasted, we’ll crush them and mix them into the syrup.”
Wu Jiong hesitated for a moment. “Will that even taste good?”
Jian Mo grinned, throwing an arm around his shoulder and giving him a playful shove. “Don’t doubt my cooking skills!”
Wu Jiong gathered all the remaining nuts in the house and handed them to Jian Mo.
Jian Mo toasted the nuts on the stone slab until they were golden and fragrant. Then the two of them got to work cracking open the shells and crushing the kernels into bits.
The mix of crushed nuts released an incredible aroma, even more enticing when tasted.
Jian Mo handed Wu Jiong the remaining nuts to crush while he returned to check on the syrup.
At this stage, they needed to stir the syrup constantly to prevent it from burning.
Jian Mo used a spatula to lift a bit of the syrup. It clung to the spatula, falling off in thick, glossy ribbons. The fragrance was sweet and rich, and the golden liquid resembled molten amber.
It was utterly tempting.
Jian Mo dipped two grass stalks into the syrup, coating them, and handed one to Wu Jiong.
The two sat by the fire pit, savoring this rare treat of sweetness together.
“It’s light and sweet,” Jian Mo remarked, licking the syrup. “Not as sugary as honey chunks, but it has a unique flavor. It’s pretty tasty.”
The syrup on the grass had already hardened into a candy-like shell. After trying it, Wu Jiong commented, “It’s easier to make than honey chunks.”
“Exactly!” Jian Mo agreed. “Once we get our planting system running smoothly, malt sugar—or rather, mien sugar—will become even more accessible.”
With a satisfied sigh, Jian Mo added, “Life’s starting to look more and more interesting.”
