In later generations, the mouse traps were typically made of iron, with food placed as bait. The trap would snap shut when a mouse stepped on the trigger plate or attempted to take the food.
These traps required steel for the springs, and since steel was practically nonexistent in the tribe, Han Cheng naturally had no means to make such a spring, let alone fashion a steel-wire mechanism.
However, he knew an older, more straightforward trapping method called the "hanging slab" (吊坯).
One would usually dig a moderately deep hole into a dry ditch or small riverbank to set this type of trap. A frog would be tied by the leg and placed in the hole as bait, with a brick-like slab suspended above it. The string connecting the frog would also be tied to a trigger mechanism. When a weasel grabbed the frog and pulled, the trigger would release, causing the heavy slab to drop and crush the intruder, pinning it beneath. It functioned much like the "falling stone traps" in tales of tomb raiding.
Yes, this traditional hanging slab method was originally used by elders to catch weasels when they weren’t a protected species. But the same approach worked just as well for mice—after all, weasels also have "mouse" (鼠) in their names.
Han Cheng’s childhood experiments with this trap yielded more mice than professional mouse traps ever did.
Before deploying his traps, Han Cheng first blocked off escape routes to prevent the pests from fleeing or calling for reinforcements to raid the tribe's granary.
After a thorough inspection, they found a small, inconspicuous hole in the back of the granary. The hole had smoothed edges and was darkened from frequent use—clearly, a well-trodden passageway for the mice.
Initially, Han Cheng considered sealing the hole entirely but then reconsidered and decided to use it to his advantage. He instructed Stone to bring some tools, and they set up six small rabbit snares along the passageway, both inside and outside.
When the elder Shaman, still fuming over the mice, heard Han Cheng’s plan, he deemed the bricks too light. Without hesitation, Shaman brought a more solid, 20-pound stone block to replace the bricks.
Looking at the hefty stone, Han Cheng’s mouth twitched. A block this heavy would undoubtedly flatten any mouse into mush. Han Cheng would gladly use it if it were feasible, but it was too cumbersome for mice to trigger.
“This one won’t work…” Han Cheng explained to Shaman, continuing to tie the strings to the brick slabs.
The bricks were the type the tribe initially crafted. They were larger and heavier than standard bricks, weighing about six or seven pounds. The strings of the hanging slab traps were connected to the rabbit snares below. Once a snare was triggered, the suspended brick slab would drop.
“Let’s see you try eating now! Let’s see!” Shaman muttered menacingly as he watched the setup as if the mice were already caught.
With the traps set, Han Cheng turned his attention to the damaged grain storage. He plugged the hole gnawed into the granary floor to prevent more grain from spilling out. Then, he and Shaman worked together to clean up the scattered, damaged grain.
While the ruined grain was no longer fit for human consumption, it wouldn’t go to waste.
In addition to humans, the tribe now had many other mouths—like livestock—that would gladly consume these spoiled grains.
Technically, the Shaman believed humans could still eat the grain. If cleaned and hulled, it could still be made into perfectly edible food.
Han Cheng, however, wouldn’t allow it. The tribe wasn’t so desperate for food that they needed to risk illness or endure disgust to eat contaminated grain.
This behavior is not wasteful but a way of being responsible for one’s health.
Some people are so used to frugality that they refuse to throw away spoiled food, only to end up in the hospital afterward. Han Cheng had heard of such incidents before.
Frugality is essential, but not at the expense of one’s health.
“Divine Child, over here!”
After cleaning up the grain, Shi Tou shouted from not far away. He had found a nest made of grass and bird feathers in a crevice, and inside were six hairless, pink, translucent baby mice that had just been born.
Damn it. Calling friends over to eat a bit was one thing, but now they were nesting and breeding here? They were settling in permanently!
Han Cheng picked up one of the tiny mouse pups, examined it briefly, and tossed it back into the nest.
Elder Shaman, however, didn’t have Han Cheng’s restraint. Having suffered greatly from the mice, Shaman snatched the nest from Shi Tou, angrily jabbing at the blind baby mice while scolding them furiously.
It was as if, unable to deal with the adult mice, he was taking it all out on their offspring.
By the time he finished venting, Shaman was already carrying the nest outside, muttering that he would clean the baby mice and fry them in oil.
“Well, you eat my grain, and I’ll eat your kids,” Han Cheng thought. The logic was sound, but the idea was a bit... wild.
Quickly stopping Shaman’s aggressive plan, Han Cheng threw the baby mice to the dogs, including the one who had earlier lost clumps of fur to Shaman’s temper.
Within seconds, the pups were gone, swallowed by the dogs.
Shi Tou, watching this, gulped several times, clearly regretting the lost opportunity. He thought Shaman’s idea was excellent—the pink, tender mouse pups seemed perfect for frying and eating.
That wistful thought was only dispelled when Han Cheng smacked him hard on the back of the head a few times.
Inside the granary, Han Cheng continued setting up hanging slab traps and rabbit snares along the narrow base of the walls.
He placed another ten traps before stopping. Still feeling it wasn’t enough, he brought several clay jars and set them up in the granary.
Across the mouth of each jar, he balanced a round stick with food tied to its center. He built simple steps out of bricks outside the jars, making it easier for the mice to climb up.
This was a simple but highly effective trap. The mice would climb the steps and walk along the stick to reach the bait. However, the stick, not being fixed in place, would tilt and spin after a few steps, sending the mice tumbling into the jars below.
Elder Shaman, who had suffered greatly at the hands of the mice, nodded in approval at these traps.
Though he hadn’t seen them catch anything, Han Cheng’s meticulous setup gave off a palpable sense of imminent success.