Sunlight is a very selfless thing. Regardless of whether it is good or bad, barren or fertile, it generously pours down its brilliance, enveloping everything beneath its glow.
Of course, except for the corners where sunlight cannot reach.
Under the autumn sun, on a relatively flat patch of land, there stood a cluster of somewhat irregular grass huts.
The huts were roughly circular but not precisely so, with similarly irregularly shaped roofs.
These huts were low—at their highest point, the roof was just a little over one meter above the ground.
There were about thirty to forty of these huts, scattered somewhat disorderly across the area.
Around the cluster of huts was a simple fence made of branches and stones, enclosing the area. Though not very sturdy, it gave some sense of security.
Inside this tribal yard, some women and elders sat on a patch of bare ground, using somewhat flat sticks to beat on something repeatedly.
With the pounding of these men who were bare-chested and wrapped in animal skins, the pods would burst open, releasing small gray-brown seeds that popped out.
Some fearless minors ran barefoot across the seeds, crushing some pods beneath their feet.
Of course, these small round gray-brown seeds were slippery, and sometimes a minor would slip and fall.
Such falls were nothing to them; they quickly got up and ran again.
This tribe, with dome-shaped grass huts and simple fences, was different from most tribes of that era.
Around the tribe, a large area had very few trees.
Human hands had removed those trees.
In these sparsely treed areas, many plants grew.
Besides some weeds, most were vine-like plants similar to those being beaten by the tribe members.
Many leaves on these vines had already yellowed and fallen to the ground.
When the vines were lifted, underneath lay sun-scorched dry leaves that crackled distinctively underfoot.
Some physically stronger people bent down to grasp the roots of these vines with both hands and uprooted them, placing them aside.
Those doing this work were mainly women wearing short animal skins.
A few less strong male tribesmen also took part, doing the same.
However, these men were slower, often outpaced by the women.
It wasn’t that these men were physically weaker than the women.
If one watched a while longer, one would see why these men were slow.
Because after uprooting some vines, they would pause briefly and look up at the women a short distance ahead who were also bending down to pull vines.
They would look and silently smile, but the smile always seemed somewhat lecherous…
In the center of the cluster of dome-shaped grass huts stood a slightly larger round house than the others.
At this moment, a figure emerged from inside.
All these houses faced north-south, with their entrances facing south.
From close up, one realized these low, round grass huts were more spacious inside than they appeared.
This was mainly because the houses were not level with the ground; they had been dug downwards quite a bit.
Thus, the interior height was suitable for human habitation.
The figure, a not-so-young woman, carefully stepped out along the earthen steps dug at the doorway to observe the courtyard scene.
Her somewhat white hair and sagging breasts revealed her age.
She stood there for a while before walking toward the center of the courtyard.
It was clear this older female tribesperson held high prestige in the tribe.
Upon her arrival, the working people cast respectful glances at her and greeted her with words of welcome.
Even the running minors became noticeably more obedient after she came near.
This elderly tribeswoman was the tribe’s wise one, often referred to as a shaman or a priestess, but at this time, there was little distinction between the titles.
She looked on for a moment, then squatted down behind a relatively older minor.
She reached out, took hold of the minor’s stick-wielding hand, lifted it up and down repeatedly seven or eight times, then let go to let the minor continue while watching.
After a while, she held the minor’s hand again and taught once more.
Seeing the minor beat the vines more skillfully, she then squatted and joined the others in handling the vines.
The sun gradually moved across the sky.
When it began to set, and some tribe members started carrying or holding the uprooted vines into the tribe, the others had already sorted everything out.
The beaten vines were set aside, leaving only piles of small gray-brown fruits.
The tribe’s priestess held an irregular round clay pot, carefully filling it with these gray-brown fruits.
She was very meticulous—only after filling the pot to the brim would she pour it into the nearby grass basket.
After pouring each pot, she used a small, sharpened stone to scratch a mark onto a larger flat stone standing upright nearby.
Several rows of such marks had already been made on the stone slab.
Once all the gray-brown seeds were packed, the shaman sighed softly as she looked at the stone slab.
The latest row of marks was noticeably fewer than the previous ones.
Just as she sighed and stared blankly at the stone slab, cheers suddenly erupted from the tribe.
The priestess turned her head to look outside the tribe and smiled.