Over the years, Liang had tasted many things, and the small fruit in front of him didn’t particularly capture his attention.
When he looked at this tiny fruit, he felt an inexplicable excitement—the joy of encountering something new to taste after having exhausted all other options.
However, this excitement didn’t last long.
Liang placed the small fruit in his mouth and chewed slowly, one bite, then two…
Soon, the face full of joy and anticipation began to transform.
After enduring for a while, he finally couldn’t stand it any longer and started spitting it out, opening his mouth uncontrollably.
After spitting, he quickly grabbed the water flask by his side, gulped water, and rinsed his mouth with it.
At this point, Liang had no excitement but rather some fear.
In his mind was a vivid image of a highly flavorful, visually disturbing excrement bucket swirling around.
This stemmed from the mental trauma left after he had been poisoned by the “toxic Liang grass” before.
To avoid the excrement bucket landing on his face, Liang desperately rinsed his mouth with water.
After a long while, the discomfort in his mouth slowly faded.
Liang felt like his tongue was his own again, and his mouth no longer felt strange.
Not long ago, he thought his tongue had become somewhat stiff.
Setting down the clay bowl, Liang returned to where the fruit had been placed. Seeing the small fruit wrapped in leaves, he showed a look of lingering fear.
This seemingly inconspicuous little fruit was so intense!
Just one small taste had caused him this much discomfort. If he ate more, could it possibly cost him his life?
But even though he felt this way, he didn’t follow the women of the tribe and toss it away.
After all, the toxic Liang grass that nearly caused him to be fed excrement had been turned into a life-saving medicine after the miraculous intervention of the deity.
This small fruit, although unpleasant to eat, clearly wasn’t as toxic as the Liang grass.
If something as poisonous as the Liang grass could still have a use, then perhaps this small fruit could also prove helpful.
Of course, Liang wasn’t thinking about using it for food. He was considering other possible uses.
After tasting a single one, he had felt like his tongue and mouth weren’t his own. If he ate more, he might lose his life for real.
Thinking this, Liang wrapped up the potent seeds and placed them back, securing them even more tightly.
This wasn’t because he wanted to keep the fruit for himself, but rather to prevent the younger, less careful members of the tribe from accidentally eating them and suffering tragic consequences.
With the living conditions gradually improving and the range of things the people of the Green Sparrow Tribe encountered increasing, many now thought things through more thoroughly when making decisions.
Just as Liang finished hiding the seeds and was about to look for other interesting things, he faintly heard some shouting from outside.
He stopped what he was doing, tilted his head, and listened carefully for a moment, then dashed out like a child, rushing toward the entrance as if his butt had been set on fire, forgetting to look for other new things.
By the time he reached the entrance, the tribe outside had already erupted into excitement, with people cheering and celebrating as if welcoming a victorious warrior.
Standing on tiptoe, Liang glanced around and, amidst the moving crowd, caught a glimpse of the deity’s familiar face. Immediately, he joined the crowd rushing toward the gathering place.
Crying loudly, Little Pea had become unfamiliar with Han Cheng after not seeing him for nearly two months.
Now, when Han Cheng forcibly embraced him, his stubbled face poking against Little Pea’s, the child began crying even harder.
But Han Cheng didn’t let go. He continued to tease his crying son for a while before finally releasing him.
Looking at his son crying while gnawing on a juicy, red peach, Han Cheng muttered in dissatisfaction.
“This brat, always crying with his mouth open, this is no good.”
It must be tough for Little Pea to have such an unreliable father.
Han Cheng had many ways of calming down a crying child.
Without using anything as fancy as a rattle, just a peach picked from the roadside, red and juicy from the sun, was enough to calm Little Pea down.
“Damn it, it’s just like your mother’s cooking…”
Han Cheng said this, looking at Little Pea, who was crying and gnawing on the peach, his mouth still murmuring in disdain.
The first day Han Cheng returned passed quietly in such a relaxed time.
That night, between the two young, healthy spouses, things that happened naturally didn’t need further explanation.
This was evident when Han Cheng slept in late the next day, occasionally pressing his waist, showing subtle signs.
It was also during this time that Mao came over.
Mao had come to find Han Cheng for a specific matter.
It wasn’t about the autumn harvest.
The autumn harvest was something everyone had on their mind, so there was no need for him to talk about it.
What he wanted to discuss was the tribe’s offer during the trade, where they proposed to exchange children for salt.
At the time, Mao had immediately refused, but later thought about it and decided it would be better to inform the deity.
One reason was that this was the first time such a situation had occurred after so long in trade, and the other reason was that the deity had always been very concerned about the population.
If the people from the other tribe were willing to exchange stronger individuals for salt, it would be good for the tribe.
After all, the tribe used up a jar of salt quickly, whereas raising a child took a very long time.
After hearing Mao’s report, Han Cheng looked at him in surprise.
In the past, he thought that Mao had only gotten involved in trade due to a fluke, but now it seemed that this fluke contained some inevitability.
From what Mao had said, Han Cheng could tell that Mao had a remarkable talent for trade…