Chapter 21: (part 2- progress, guilt and deal)
As I looked out toward the trees, I felt something deep in my gut. A bad sign. A whisper and a gaze That I should forget.
I slowly pushed myself up, careful not to move too fast. My body felt heavy, and my arms shook a little as I sat up. My legs were still weak, like they didn't belong to me. They didn't want to move, but I made them. I had to. With a bit of effort, I swung them around and let my feet touch the ground.
For a moment, I just sat there, breathing, listening to the quiet.
Then, I reached out and lifted the wooden door. It creaked as it opened, the sound sharp and dry. I stepped outside, dragging my feet a little. The cold wood under my soles turned into rough dirt.
The first thing that hit me was the light. The golden rays of the morning sun poured down from the sky, landing right on my face like a spotlight. I flinched and winced, lifting one hand quickly to block it.
"Ahhh... too bright," I grumbled, squinting hard. My eyes weren't ready for that.
I stood there for a while, not moving. I took a deep breath, slow and long. The fresh morning air filled my lungs, cool and clean. It smelled like grass, earth, and something soft I couldn't name. It helped a little—just enough to clear the weight sitting on my chest.
"Morning already, huh..." I mumbled. My voice came out low and rough, still thick with sleep.
My head was foggy. I felt like I had just blinked and somehow skipped the night. Time moved too fast here. Or maybe it was just me or I'm just too tired that even if the time here is longer I still need longer sleep to recover.
"Haaa... A new day, a new struggle," I sighed. "And also... my second day."
"No time to waste. Last night, the cold wind slipped through the cracks in the walls, along with a chilly breeze from the cave. It was annoying as hell. I had to fix it—not just for warmth, but for safety. Who knew what creatures lurked outside?"
Rolling up my sleeves, I got to work. I carried heavy rocks, stacking them to thicken the walls. My hands throbbed in pain from my effort, but I kept going.
"Better suffer now than freeze later," I muttered.
Once the walls were reinforced, I turned my attention to something else, storage. "My books, coins, sword, and potions were scattered all over the ground. That wouldn't do."
I needed a storage box, and all I had were vines and branches. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.
*1st step Gathering Materials,* first i gathered a handful of sturdy branches, all about the same length. Then, I searched for strong, flexible vines to tie everything together.
*2nd step Building the Base,* i started with the base, laying four branches in a square and securing the corners with tightly wrapped vines. It wasn't perfect, but it held. Next, I added four upright branches at each corner, tying them down carefully.
*3rd step Strengthening the Frame,* once the frame was steady, I placed another square of branches on top and fastened it with more vines. To make it stronger, I wove extra vines around the sides, filling in gaps and making sure nothing could slip through.
Stepping back, I clapped my hands, removing the dust and dirt. It wasn't pretty, but it was a box and it would very convenient.
"This should do... It's not the best, and it might collapse if I put something heavy inside," I muttered with a smirk. "But for now, it'll have to be enough."
With a satisfied nod, I stretched again.
3 days passed
As I cleared some rocks and pulled out weeds near the cave, I accidentally uncovered a spring while digging out a large rock. The water was clear, not too warm, not too cold, just the perfect temperature.
The water from the spring started getting colder after being exposed to the sunligh for some reason.
I used sharpened tree branches to dig it deeper and shaped it into a small pool, about 1.2 meters wide and 4 feet deep.
After finishing, I loosened my hanfu, the fabric soft and slightly damp from sweat. I slipped it off slowly and folded it neatly, placing it on a dry rock nearby. Then I stepped into the spring I had made. The cool water wrapped around me, and I let out a sigh. "Ahh... that's cold but it feels good~. Finally, I can clean myself. I'll wash my clothes later, too."
"Wait—why is it getting *so* cold?!" I yelled, my teeth chattering. "Ahhh!" I screamed as I jumped out of the freezing water, shivering all over, completely naked. The cold bit into my skin like tiny needles.
Nine hours passed. The sky was turning orange—the sun getting ready to set. I walked back to the spring. Thin steam was starting to rise from the surface, dancing gently in the air. I paused at the edge and dipped my toes in to test it.
"...It's finally warm," I mumbled, a bit relieved.
Carefully, I slipped off my hanfu, folded it, and set it aside on a dry rock. Then I slowly stepped into the water. It felt nice—warm and relaxing. I sat there for about five minutes, letting the heat soak into my skin.
But then—something changed again.
The water began to heat up. Fast. "Ahhh!!! That's too hot!!!!" I shouted, quickly crawling out, steam rising from my skin. My whole body stung like I'd touched boiling tea.
I flopped onto the cool ground, panting "...I guess I can only bathe in the morning," I muttered, staring at the sky. "Even if it's freezing cold, at least I won't get cooked by this damn spring."
Interestingly, the water changed with the time of day—cool during sunny hours and warm at night. From morning to noon, it stayed around 10 to 15°C (50 to 59°F), then rose to 37 to 40°C (98.6 to 104°F) after sunset.
6 days passed
I woke early. Mist hung over the trees like a soft veil, and the ground was cool under my bare feet.
I walked to the shallow spring I found a few days ago, beneath the giant trees. It was during one of my walks, three days after I discovered the spring in front of my cave. This time, I came with a purpose—hoping to find what I needed, good, fine clay.
Kneeling near the spring, I dug into the earth with my hands. At first, it was just mud. Too soft, too loose. But a few inches down, the texture changed—it was smoother, heavier. I grabbed a handful and rolled it in my palm. It held together without falling apart. it was a clay.
"It's clay!"
I collect what I could into a leaf and wrap it tied with a vines. I carried it back, slow and steady.
*1st step Cleaning the clay* Infront of the cave, I dropped the lumps into a pit I'd dug earlier. Sat down cross-legged and stared at them for a moment.
"Alright," I breathed. "Let's remove some of the small rocks and woods sticking in it."
I started picking through it—bits of sticks, root hairs, tiny stones. All of it had to go. One sharp edge in the wrong place could split the whole thing later.
I added a bit of water and dug my fingers in, pressing and turning the clay like kneading old bread. Took my time. Had to feel when it was ready, not just guess.
"If its too soft, it will slump. Too dry, and it will crack," I said to myself. "perfect! Balance. Like most things."
To strengthen it, I mixed in fine sand. A pinch at a time. Then charcoal dust from the edge of the firepit. Black and soft to touch. It crumbled into the clay easily.
*2nd step Shaping the pot* The clay was perfect, not sticky, not brittle. Just firm enough to hold shape and soft enough to mold. I rolled a ball, held it up to shoulder height, and let it drop.
It hit with a dull thump, flattened, but didn't split.
"The mud have the right consistency for molding" I said, with a small smile. "Good."
I rolled out long coils, even and thick. Not rushed. Each one like a lazy snake curling under my palms. I started with a base, coiling inward. Pressed them together with thumb and knuckle. Smoothed the inside with wet fingers.
Walls rose slowly, one coil at a time. I kept them thick—thumb-width.
It leaned a little. The rim wobbled, uneven. But it held its shape. Rough around the edges, sure. But it was still a pot.
"It doesn't need to look perfect," I muttered, brushing the damp clay from my fingers as I pressed against the rough edge. "All it really needs to do is hold water without leaking, and be strong enough to sit over a fire for cooking."
I molded three additional pieces of the clay pot, wanting to be absolutely sure.
*3rd step Drying* I set it beneath a tree, out of the sun. Fast drying meant cracks. Cracks meant ruining the product.
I walked over to one of the trees, careful not to jostle the 3 fragile pots in both of my hand. Finally I found a small patch where the sunlight filtered through the leaves just enough to reach the pot. I set down the pots gently, turning it slightly so the sun would hit as much surface as possible.
"That should be enough," I muttered, stepping back to examine it. The clay looked soft but steady, holding its shape. "I'll come back once it's hardened."
I lingered for a moment, half-expecting it to crack or collapse, before nodding to myself and walking away, leaving it under the quiet warmth of the sun.
For two days I checked on it. Morning, evening. No poking. Just observing it.
The color is now paler. The surface firmer. When I tapped it, it rang back a light and hollow. "Thud"
I whispered. "its done, okay next step."
*4th Step Firing the pot* I built the fire with dry wood, carefully avoiding any green or damp pieces. The wood needed to burn evenly, producing steady heat. I added pieces slowly, spacing them to keep the fire consistent without sudden bursts of flame.
I placed the pot at the edge of the fire first, letting it warm gradually. a sudden increase in temperature would cause it to crack. I watched the surface closely, feeling the heat radiate and noting how the clay slowly became firmer under the steady heat.
After about an hour, I moved the pot closer to the hot coals. I arranged embers around it, making sure the heat surrounded it evenly. Then I carefully covered it with hot ash, leaving it in constant contact with the heat. I adjusted the coals as needed, keeping the temperature steady.
"Pheww... that's hot," I muttered, quickly wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. The embers is radiating intense heat that made my skin sting. I shifted my weight back, keeping a careful distance, Smoke curled around the rim, and the smell of burning clay filled the air.
Two, maybe three hours passed. I didn't keep count. I just sat nearby. Watching. Listening.
As the fire and ambers heat started to weaken, I moved the remaining embers away from the pot to prevent overheating. I stepped back and left it, letting it cool slowly on its own.
"I'm sleepy... it's already dark"
*5th Step Finishing* The next day, the fire had burned out; only faint smoke remained. I carefully pulled the pot free and brushed off the ash. The surface was dark, slightly blotchy, but fully hardened and solid.
"It's finally done!" I said excitedly.
I poured water into it. No leaks. That was enough. Of the three pots I made, only one had survived intact; the other two had cracked. "If I had monitored the fire more closely, I might have salvaged another."
"This will be used for my everyday cooking. And to carry water."
After a few more days of tireless work...