Sister Sichuan is kind, and it is an indescribable kindness, she will secretly take out the grain rice allocated to her to help those white-robed women who are still alone and unrecognized by men, although those people are more or less intentional to stay away from her because of Chuan Meizi's "strange" face, but she still does it, because she knows that I will never let her starve, but she doesn't care much about these white-robed women who have no help.

But there was always a day when this behavior was discovered, and when I realized it and stopped it in time, she told me that she was not helping, but because the women had in their hands something she liked, such as a "colorful shell", or a huge "conch", and even a dozen pearls the size of a small fingernail.

But whenever I asked her to show me these things now, she always said in a panic that she had forgotten where to put them, and I didn't want to expose this lie, but just smiled and watched her continue to lie seriously.

When six or seven women in white robes and straight hair knelt in front of the oracle at noon, holding shells, conches, and even sea pearls in their hands, she panicked and supported the women kneeling on the ground one by one, and wiped her tears while telling them that she didn't want anything, but in the end, I helped her accept all this, and told the women: "Everything has its own value, and if the Sichuan girl gives you food, you will exchange it for something of the same value", which is called a transaction.

So, in less than a month, the "transaction" that originally existed only in people's private was carried out publicly, and the dumb fat daughter-in-law even took the lead in building a circle of straw canopies like a workshop in the center of the earthen house group to exchange the necessities that people need to work or live, such as "stone picks" and "stone shovels", you know, I lent them the land to grow grain and rice to charge a "fixed rent", so more high-quality and convenient labor tools will make the work twice the result with half the effort, after all, I stipulated: if the field is not enough to plant, They can ask me for it again, and they themselves must not open up the land freely, but they understand it, but one more field means one more rent, and the rent is naturally one-fifth of the grain they harvest.

Because the income from these workshops was so staggering, I was forced to put them into public ownership and hire a group of craftsmen with unique skills as "royals", instead of the private property of the mute family, I knew it was hooliganism, robbery and plunder, but I did it, how? At most, double the amount of food and rabbit meat distributed to the dumb man every week. For this matter, the dumb fat woman ran to the oracle for three days and two times, pinching the dumb man's big fat waist that he couldn't hold with his hands at all, blocking my door and shouting, and finally I had to put on a few white robes made by the Sichuan girl herself to coax her away.

Among the craftsmen I had to write on was one of them, unnamed, older than my half-aged man, who was almost four sheets old, but much older than me, and whose polished stone tools were very eye-catching, and of a delicate and durable variety.

The reason why I mention this person, I have my selfishness, do you remember the few pieces of ore that the fish balls brought me two years ago? I tried to smelt it many times, and finally found that the smoldering charcoal fire could bake the thing slightly softer, but there was no mold to shape the already soft mineral, so I put the matter on hold indefinitely until the appearance of the stonemason.

I asked him to take out a shape from the center of a piece of granite, which had been naturally weathered slightly, and the shape was a "dagger", and I also used charcoal to draw the outline on the surface of the rock with my own hands, and asked him to hollow out the stone inside the outline, and the price of the transaction was five cans of grain, which was definitely a bargaining chip that a white-robed man could not refuse.

The mold I ended up with was worth the price, and although he didn't know what I wanted it for, he cut it out of a hard pointed stone little by little according to the outline I had drawn.

I smoldered alone in the scorching coals for a whole night, and the ore slowly turned from black-brown to blue, and then to red, until I lifted it into the trough with two slates, and the hot ore still scorched the air around me to the point of hard breathing.

I don't know anything about how to smelt this kind of thing, but I once saw a man with a big waist and a red strip on TV with a hammer on the iron, knocking out the shape and then quenching it deep into the cold water, and then burning red and re-entering the water many times, to be honest, I don't know if this method will work, after all, I don't know what kind of material the ore in my hand is, maybe iron, maybe something else, but it doesn't matter, what I want is the process, I want a work, It's not in vain that Yuwan and Huya almost took their lives for these broken stones.

But nothing in the world can be done smoothly in one fell swoop, until I have sore one arm, and the red-hot broken ore has not been smashed into the stone trough completely, and a third of it is in, and two-thirds is exposed, and it looks more like a "shoehorn" than a dagger when wearing shoes.

I dragged my cheeks and stared at the "shoehorn" that had cooled into black and purple in the stone trough, and scolded myself in my heart, "Old Wu, old Wu, what can you do?" Then he returned to the oracle with a disgraced face.

But it didn't end there, I looked at a piece of ore that was three sizes smaller and repeated it again, except that this time I didn't work as a laborer for myself, but pulled the old stonemason.

I have to say that the "craftsman spirit" is indeed worthy of admiration, this old brother may have been with stone craftsmanship since he was a child wearing his white robe, and the size of the ore I chose this time is indeed just right, in a morning, this dagger was smashed by him to a slight prototype, of course, it can only be called a prototype...... Because neither of us could smash the twig gauntlet at the handle of the dagger, it looked like an awl no matter how you looked at it......

This arm-to-arm contest lasted for three whole days, entering the furnace, soaking in water, re-entering the furnace, and soaking in water, and I even finally learned how to kill Mo Ye and dripped a few drops of blood on that awl-like dagger, which is said to have spirituality. Of course, I was afraid of pain, and the old stonemason was unwilling to contribute his blood, and he was unwilling to give as much food as he could, so in the end he could only kill a female rabbit and drop a few drops.

Staring at this cone-shaped "dagger" and another "shoehorn", I have a feeling of crying and laughing, the dagger does not even have a handle, and if that shoehorn is used as a shield, it is simply a laughing stock on the battlefield, how can this be used as a weapon? It took me a whole week, yes, five cans of grain!

But a few days later, when the old stonemason brought back six jars of corn one after another, earnestly hoping to trade the "shoehorn" with me, I suddenly realized that something was wrong, that this thing must be very useful, otherwise the old man who was like a human spirit would not have willingly taken out so much grain, even more than I had paid him.

I pondered for a long time: Or, why do you have to use them as weapons? Isn't this shoehorn upside down more like a good "hoe"?