Becoming a Leader in a Primitive Otherworld - Chapter 19

The spring rain arrived at a sensible time, waiting until after the Sacrifice Day to fall. Xie Yu breathed a sigh of relief as she recalled this.

If it had rained on the Sacrifice Day, the tribespeople would inevitably have speculated whether the rain was a sign from the Totem.

“Quick, bring in the animal hides from outside!” someone shouted from beyond the eaves. Yesterday, seeing clear skies, most of the tribespeople had draped their hides over outdoor racks to sun-dry them, hoping to warm them thoroughly.

Xie Yu and Yun Nai hurried to the eaves to gather their belongings and move them indoors to prevent them from getting wet.

The collection included animal hides, medicinal herbs, and miscellaneous tools, some of which had already gotten damp. Yun Nai used a dry hide to wipe down the items that could still be dried.

“I’m going to check the warehouse,” Xie Yu announced, walking to the bed to grab her outer hide cloak. She propped up the Lotus Reed and dashed outside.

Her primary concern was to inspect the warehouse for leaks. If the warehouse leaked, it would be a major problem.

During its construction, she had repeatedly emphasized the warehouse’s importance to the building team. The roof had been meticulously layered with multiple layers of waterproof thatch bundles, tree bark, and animal hides.

Barring unforeseen disasters like collapses, she was confident it should hold up.

The three warehouses were situated near Xie Yu’s thatched hut. She leaned on Lotus Reed as tribespeople occasionally rushed past her, darting into their huts.

The unique construction of the thatched huts meant that even in heavy rain, the sound of dripping water was rarely heard. Moreover, the huts remained warm in winter and cool in summer, a vast improvement over the damp mountain caves. The tribespeople now suffered from colds far less frequently, a testament to the huts’ effectiveness.

The warehouse doors resembled those of the other thatched huts, requiring manual lifting to open. Xie Yu approached the door, lifted it aside, and the originally dim granary was quickly flooded with sunlight.

Inside, the granary was dry. After inspecting every corner of the roof for leaks, she moved on.

The rain persisted, fluctuating in intensity. Unable to hunt, the tribespeople remained in the Tribe.

Xie Yu instructed them to use these idle days to continue shaping the timber temporarily stored in the Clan Hall into sharp arrows, preparing for future hunts.

Meanwhile, Xie Yu pondered how to improve the cumbersome doors. Having to lift them every time she entered or exited had long been on her mind. With these few days of downtime, she decided to focus on finding a solution.

Door hinges required a relatively high degree of precision, and neither she nor her companion had much experience in crafting them.

She stood by the door, staring at it for several minutes. Suddenly, an idea struck her: why not convert it into a sliding door? It would be easier to open and close, eliminate the need for hinges, and be relatively simple to modify.

As the rain eased, Xie Yu dashed to the Clan Hall. The chattering tribespeople quickly resumed whittling arrows, their earlier slacking off evident without even looking.

But Xie Yu didn’t demand constant vigilance. With a wave, she called Ke over to help her carry several thick wooden planks back to the thatched hut.

When she returned, Shi Yunnai was gone, likely at the Pharmacy.

The rain wasn’t heavy, and the planks dried quickly with a wipe. Xie Yu fetched her tools and began working on the door.

Slanting rain lashed against Xie Yu’s right side, dampening her hair, but she paid it no mind—just a little rain.

The sliding door’s structure resembled modern floor-to-ceiling windows, except these wooden doors were opaque.

The original doorway was already wide enough for three people to pass abreast when open, so Xie Yu divided the remaining thick planks into sections wide enough for one person and two people.

Next, she carved grooves into the bottom and top of the doorway, precisely sized to hold the sliding doors in place.

Ke helped Xie Yu steady the wooden door as they carefully pressed it into the grooves.

Ke meticulously observed Xie Yu’s steps, planning to memorize them so she could build a new door for herself later.

“Once the weather clears, everyone in the tribe will install new doors,” Xie Yu said. The tribe’s supply of thick wooden planks was dwindling, so the Tribespeople would have to wait a while for their upgrades.

Ke’s enthusiasm soared, her energy for the task seemingly boundless.

A single-person-wide plank was fixed to the left side, while the movable section was twice as wide. Xie Yu tested the mechanism and found it slid smoothly enough.

After tinkering for hours, she carved a lock-like structure into the right side of the door. A sturdy wooden extension served as the bolt, allowing the door to be securely locked from the inside by simply sliding the extension into the groove.

The day had nearly passed by the time they finished.

Xie Yu opened and closed the door repeatedly, then gave Ke a piece of meat with satisfaction. “Go home now.”

After Ke left, Xie Yu sat alone in her hut, finally at rest.

The rain outside grew heavier, but she remained calm, propping her chin in her hand. It’s almost dark, she thought. Why hasn’t Yun Nai returned yet?

Suddenly, the door was pulled open, and Yun Nai appeared in the doorway.

Clearly, though the Lotus Reed provided some shelter, it had been utterly overwhelmed by the torrential downpour.

Perhaps their Priest was naturally protected by the Totem, for even after being caught in such a storm, she was only slightly damp.

A single raindrop, visible to Xie Yu’s keen eyes, slid down Yun Nai’s neck and soaked into the animal hide.

“I’m going to catch a cold,” Xie Yu muttered from her chair.

The moment Yun Nai saw the door, she understood what had happened and guessed that Xie Yu must have gotten wet.

Yun Nai walked over to check. Xie Yu’s hair was still damp, and she seemed a bit dizzy. “How’s the door I made?”

“I don’t praise fools,” Yun Nai said, touching Xie Yu’s forehead. There was no fever.

“Why are you calling me names, Nai Nai?” Xie Yu feigned weakness, hoping to avoid a scolding.

Yun Nai had long grown accustomed to Xie Yu’s familiar nickname. After all, over the past few weeks, Xie Yu had gone from one to two, then two to three, and finally three to countless variations.

“Fixing the door before the rain stops, standing in the downpour—aren’t you a fool?”

“No,” Xie Yu retorted.

“Stubborn,” Xie Yu muttered, finally relenting. She shifted her gaze to Yun Nai’s hand. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? Are you really okay?” she asked again, seeking reassurance.

She couldn’t shake the image of Yun Nai plunging her hand into the fire. Luo had once done the same before her eyes. Yun Nai should be fine, right?

Yun Nai looked at Xie Yu with exasperation. She had already answered this question countless times last night. “I’m really fine,” she said patiently.

“Really, really fine?” Xie Yu persisted, becoming increasingly anxious.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Xie Yu grabbed Yun Nai’s hand, thinking there couldn’t possibly be any internal injuries—the kind no one else could detect.

“No internal injuries,” Yun Nai said, as if reading Xie Yu’s mind, and tried to pull her hand away.

As Yun Nai’s smooth skin slipped through her fingers, Xie Yu felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of regret.

The atmosphere grew awkwardly tense. Xie Yu murmured, “I’ll go watch them sharpen arrows at the Clan Hall.”

She took a few steps away, then turned back. What was so interesting about watching arrow sharpening? Besides, the tribespeople had nearly finished yesterday; they’d probably be done today.