Turning around in the woods, Quan Hao led the team to the waterhole where he first appeared. The cool water of the pool made everyone cheer. Plop and plop, buckets were thrown to the ground. People rushed to the edge of the pool, knelt on the ground and drank wildly. No one understands the preciousness of water better than this group of refugees who have survived the sea and endured thirst for days in the sun.

Before enough to drink, a short man took off his shirt and jumped into the water, paddling his arms to the center of the pool. Encouraged by this, others followed suit and jumped down like dumplings. The clear water body was suddenly muddyed by eleven black loaches, and Quan Hao hurriedly roared. When the people in the water looked over, he flashed his harpoon and pointed resolutely downstream. These people are so filthy that if eleven of them were to bathe in the water, the mud on them would turn the whole pool black. So how do you drink it?

The words of the benefactor still have to be heard. People turned around and swam downstream.

Jeon Ho didn't want to go into the water and didn't want to stay around. There is nothing to see in the bath of the big old man. He took a spin around the neighborhood. I came back after about half an hour. Eleven men were ashore, and they were much cleaner. He ordered them to dress themselves and go to the water upstream to fill the buckets. Take these people back home.

A total of seven full barrels and four half-barrels of nearly 200 liters of water were brought back from one water retrieval trip. In addition, there are many seasonal fresh fruits. Of course, only seven men were qualified to bring back the fruit, and those four could not even carry a whole bucket of water, so they could only regretfully throw away the delicious fruit on the way. Quan Hao is not merciful, what he says is how he does it. Otherwise, it would be unfair to the other seven people. If you can't level it with a bowl of water, the loss of his prestige will be even greater.

He himself had gains, and after a simple exchange, he learned a dozen words from the men. It's all simple words, numbers from one to ten, and then there's what you see and ask. Mountain, tree, water, stone, his existing words are exactly the same as Mandarin, for example, "yi" they also pronounce "yi", and "mountain" also pronounces "shan". There are also slight differences, "seven" is read as "cut", "nine" is read as "hook", and "water" is read as "with". Many more have no common ground at all. For example, "tree" they pronounce "shrugged".

The situation is complicated. If their language is related to Chinese, nearly one-third of them have pronunciations similar to or close to modern Chinese. However, it is still too early to conclude that this language is a branch of ancient Chinese, first, because there are too few specimens, and second, after all, the proportion of words with completely different pronunciations is larger.

Large vats of fresh water caused a stir in the camp. From the mouths of the returning men, everyone knew that the island was well watered. Since then, the last concern of the refugees has not been restored. There are also fresh fruits that are coveted, but unfortunately they are all private property, and everyone else can only watch them dryly. Seeing this, Quan Hao decisively announced that he would send people to the South Peninsula to pick fruits from tomorrow. There were already more than 20 fatty fish waiting to be put into the pot, all of which were caught by the women with rudimentary wooden guns. Piled together, it became a hill. You can't eat so many fish in a day, and the temperature on the island is so high that the fish will rot overnight. If you want to store it for a long time, you can only dehydrate and dry it into dried fish. In any case, it would be wasteful for the women to continue fishing, and it would be better to free up some of the people to pick the fruit.

Back at the camp, the little girl also brought him some news. Boy C didn't hold on, but the other child and the old man were awake.

Quan Hao was a little gloomy, he had always been concerned about Boy C's condition, and he had fed him a few pills. Unfortunately, the medicine didn't work. Without systematic medical treatment, he could do nothing but wave his hand and order his body to be buried.

When someone came to carry the boy's body away, another patient, the old man, caught his interest. The old man is only in his early fifties, leaning on his waist. The head of the inverted triangle squinted. The chin was curled with three sparse whiskers. He was half-lying under a tree, and when he saw Quan Hao looking at him, he slowly sat up, and said something in a hoarse voice. Of course, Quan Hao didn't understand, but he saw the old man clenching his right hand into a fist, his left hand on his right hand, and he bowed to him slightly.

He was immediately shocked, this gift was the ancient Chinese hand ceremony. Other refugees expressed their gratitude and only knew kowtow, but the old man was really a little different. It seems that he is at least somewhat educated. The ancients believed that being knowledgeable and understanding etiquette were the same, so there was a word called knowledge. According to the old man's table, he may be literate.

Jeon Hao walked up to him and squatted down. glanced at him, and learned what he saw on TV, pretending to bow his hand. Of course, that's not the point, the point is the next thing he writes on the ground. This time it was no longer written in dragon characters, and he also remembered it by chance, and he remembered all the capital numbers of the bank statement. One 23 should belong to the writing of the ancients.

Just wrote a one, and when he heard the old man's "huh", Quan Hao immediately raised his head and pointed to the words on the ground excitedly. "Acquaintance?"

The old man's face was full of doubts, and he looked at the word carefully. Stretch out your dry right index finger and learn to outline. After writing twice, he shook his head and leaned down to write and draw on the sand. He didn't write lightly, but he kept writing ten words a line before stopping. Leaning back, he made a gesture to please look.

Although the old man's hand was crooked, the strokes of the characters were still easily recognizable. Exactly the typical square word. The only problem is that Quan Hao doesn't know any of the ten words. It's not that he doesn't have enough knowledge of ancient Chinese, even if it's a text of Qin Xiaozhen's level, he can only know a small part of it from the simplified characters, and the rest will make people feel familiar. Unless it is an earlier Warring States period script, or even a golden oracle bone script, because the Chinese characters have not been fully systematized, there may be a situation where modern people are completely confused. The ten characters written by the old man have long been out of the style of early writing, and they are more concise than Xiao Seal, but Quan Hao looks at them one by one and is more obscure than the other, which is almost impossible. He had no choice but to make a gesture of invitation and let the old man continue to write.

The old man glanced at Quan Hao strangely, lowered his head and wrote down ten more words. It's a pity that Quan Hao still hasn't dared to say that he knows, but there is a word that looks familiar, but he can't call it. Had to ask again.

Whenever he invited him, the old man wrote ten words on the ground. The open space around him was quickly filled with dense words, and then he had to get up and change places with Quan Hao's support. The further he went, the fewer strokes he wrote, until it dropped below ten strokes. With the reduction of strokes, the similarity between the characters written by the old man and the ancient Chinese characters has greatly increased. Finally, familiar words appeared, for example, he saw the exact same character "Wang", "Tian", "mouth" and "person". It's all hieroglyphs.

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