The wooden mallet hammered rhythmically into the stone mortar. After a while, Shi Tou's face gradually became smiley.
Because the tree bark, which had been boiled in water and carefully sliced with a copper knife, was much easier to pound than before.
He had pounded 98 fewer times for the same amount, and it was almost the same as before.
After a brief rest, Shi Tou began pounding the bark again, trying to break the fibers into smaller pieces.
After watching for a while, Han Cheng nodded slightly. Based on the current results, Shi Tou’s change was quite effective.
He watched for a while longer, then suddenly noticed that the sky was getting dark. He looked up and saw that the northern sky had become significantly dimmer.
This didn't last long, as the already faint sun quickly disappeared from view.
The wind began to rise in the calm weather, swaying the trees.
As the sunlight faded and the cold wind blew, the temperature started to drop, and a noticeable chill was in the air.
The cold front had finally passed!
The people sitting in the sun near the walls, doing needlework, quickly gathered their things, grabbing small baskets and carrying their needles and thread back into the house.
After standing for a while in the cold, the strong people eventually put on their fur coats that had been taken off earlier.
The young ones, stirred by the weather, felt excitement and a bit of fear.
They picked up small branches in the yard, shouting and waving them around as if fighting some invisible enemy to show their bravery.
In contrast to the children's inexplicable excitement, Shi Tou, who had just finished putting the pulp into a long, oval-shaped basin and soaking it in water, was far from excited.
Because after placing the pulp on a sieve, it still needed sunlight to dry.
He had already considered using boiling water to cook the tree bark, but he had waited until now to implement the plan because he was waiting for the weather to warm up—a good day.
When spread out, the pulp wouldn't freeze, and the sun would help it dry faster and turn into paper.
To ensure the weather had warmed up enough, he had refrained from making paper yesterday, carefully observing the day. He started after waking up this morning to find that it was indeed a good day.
But the weather changed just as he had finished preparing the pulp and placed it in the basin.
Seeing the quickly darkening sky, Shi Tou’s face became as gloomy as the sky, and he was highly frustrated.
"Let’s just leave it here for now, and we’ll continue when the weather clears up," Han Cheng said, seeing Shi Tou gazing helplessly at the sky. He couldn’t help but sniffle as he spoke to Shi Tou.
People who can accomplish great things often have the resilience and persistence that others lack, and Shi Tou was no exception.
Despite the bad weather, he didn't follow Han Cheng's advice to put things aside and wait for better conditions. Instead, he grabbed a sieve, placed it in the pulp basin, and continued making paper.
Han Cheng glanced at him but didn't say anything more. Since he had entrusted Shi Tou with making paper, he wouldn’t interfere further.
Even if it went wrong, it wouldn’t be a significant loss since the paper could be re-soaked in water and slowly turned back into pulp.
Even if it couldn't be restored, it didn’t matter—just some tree bark and the tribe could afford to lose that.
As expected, the power of the cold front was undeniable. Not long after, the temperature began to drop steadily.
Shi Tou scooped the pulp out of the basin and made three sheets of paper.
As Shi Tou placed the last sieve on the shelf and went to check the first one, he found that the earliest batch of paper had already formed a thin layer of ice.
At this rate, it wouldn’t take long before these sheets, which had just been made and only needed a bit of sun to dry into paper, would be completely frozen.
Standing there, Shi Tou furrowed his brow in frustration. What should have been a small wait to finish a task was now thwarted by bad weather.
After waiting so long to see results, Shi Tou stared at the darkened sky, his face filled with despair.
The heavens, however, didn’t care about his feelings. Perhaps sensing that Shi Tou’s expression wasn’t miserable enough, the wind began to blow, and soon, snow began to fall.
At first, it pelted his face with painful snowflakes, but it quickly became a flurry of significant, swirling snow.
No one could defy the weather at this moment, so Shi Tou, drenched in snow, turned and stormed back to the house, fuming. He didn’t even bother with the sieves that had snow piled on top.
The yard was now nearly empty, with only the snow whipped around by the wind, relentlessly swirling down as if it were free.
The door to the house opened again, and a figure emerged, battling the wind and snow.
It was none other than Shi Tou, who hadn’t been inside for long.
Shi Tou approached the papermaking area, looked around briefly, then gathered the three sieves, now covered in snow, and carried them back inside.
Han Cheng, who saw this, couldn’t help but smile. Many times, it’s —people get angry, they break down, but after venting a bit, they still have to keep going. After all, there’s always tomorrow.
Shi Tou, carrying the three sieves, sat near the stove, placing his feet closer to the heat.
His shoes were inevitably wet after having dealt with water for half the day.
White steam began to rise from the fire as he heated his wet shoes by the fire.
After a while, Shi Tou moved his feet to a different spot to warm them further.
He didn’t want to be like someone in the tribe who, when heating their shoes, had ended up burning the soles.
As he sat there warming his feet, Shi Tou’s gaze again fell on the paper he had made.
With the stove burning in the room, the outside temperature warmed up a bit. Before long, the snow that had fallen on the sieves melted, revealing the damp paper underneath.
Looking at the steaming shoes and the wet paper, Shi Tou slowly sat up straighter.
If the fire could dry his wet shoes, why couldn’t it dry the damp paper?
It was like a light cutting through the frustrating darkness in his mind. After a moment of realization, Shi Tou suddenly jumped up.
He grabbed a sieve and went to the stove to dry the paper.
The sieve was too large for the stove, so he couldn’t completely dry it.
After a while, Shi Tou carried the sieve and ran toward the cave.
The cave was spacious enough to build an enormous fire.
Inside the cave, flames rose, and the sieve Shi Tou was holding billowed with white steam.
As the flames roasted the paper, the moisture gradually evaporated, and the paper slowly began to take shape.
Shi Tou watched the paper gradually form, and his eyes began to shine excitedly.
He didn’t rush to do anything with the paper, waiting until no more white steam came out. Then, he gently set down the sieve and, with trembling hands, used a bamboo knife to lift the paper, which looked remarkably different from the previous sheets.
The paper was thinner, softer, and much whiter than the ones he had made before.
Standing there, Shi Tou, filled with excitement, carefully cradled the new, improved paper in his hands. He dashed out of the cave and into the heavy snowstorm in just a few steps.
As long as one keeps pushing forward, the hardships endured might be what forces you into success.
Looking at Shi Tou, who was overjoyed right now, he probably wouldn’t have reached this point for a long time if the weather hadn't been so unfavorable.
So, when facing difficulties, never lose heart or give up on yourself.
Because when God closes a door for you, He might just knock your head against it as well…