012 Write Your Own Name

The small group set off once more to explore.

Lin Yan changed her approach.

“Whenever you see unfamiliar plants, tell me. If I know them, I’ll tell you, so we can all learn together.”

This was a chance for Pangbao to record all the species, which might come in handy later. It would also earn contribution points—a win-win situation.

Huahua was the first to say, “Great! Lin Yan, you know so much; I really admire you.”

“That’s right! Lin Yan knows everything. If we don’t know something, we ask her,” said Yeye in his little baby voice. He was the youngest child besides Lin Yan.

Having spent these days with Lin Yan, he had become her little sidekick and staunch supporter. Whatever Lin Yan said was right; whatever she did was flawless. She was the most impressive person.

Mu Shi wandered around the tribe with five children. Passing by other families, some children saw them and followed along.

Before long, there were more than a dozen children.

All the children were thrilled. They played while searching for unknown plants, then listened to Lin Yan explain the names and uses of each.

These things were so novel to them, opening a magical door for their pure minds.

They longed for all that was unknown, dreaming of knowing everything.

Lin Yan seemed to know it all, confidently speaking about anything they encountered.

The group of children grew larger and larger, and their questions became varied and chaotic, yet Lin Yan handled them with ease.

Mu Shi was fascinated as well. It turned out these seemingly ordinary plants were incredibly diverse and rich in variety.

One child asked, “Some plants have very similar names; why are they so different?”

Lin Yan paused. “You mean the names sound alike?”

“Yes, they sound almost the same but look different, and they don’t seem to be the same kind.” This was Shui Sheng, a big kid of ten years old.

He hadn’t gone hunting with his mother today and was resting at home. Seeing this group of children, curiosity led him to join, and he was immediately captivated.

“That’s because they are different characters but pronounced the same,” Lin Yan replied casually, though she immediately sensed trouble.

Sure enough, Xiao Shitou quickly asked, “What’s a character?”

“Uh, characters are written symbols used for recording,” Lin Yan explained.

But the children, having never encountered writing before, couldn’t imagine what it really was. They clung to Lin Yan, determined to understand.

She gave an example, writing her own name down using the familiar simplified Chinese script.

Then she demonstrated numbers.

This instantly captured all the children’s attention, and they eagerly asked Lin Yan to teach them how to write their names.

Finally, Lin Yan decided, “Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you all how to read and write, and to count.”

She had thought this through carefully.

Though conditions weren’t yet ideal—no paper or pen—there were always ways around difficulties. While people busied themselves with survival, the tribe’s children had time and could learn. After all, it would be useful eventually.

Over these days, Lin Yan had realized that no child in the tribe was dull; they were all smart with excellent memories.

Once she taught them something, they still remembered it days later.

Not just the children—Mu Shi was the same.

Though older and in poor health, his mind remained sharp.

With a sharp mind, how could one fail to survive?

From now on, she intended to lead everyone in creating and improving the lives of the wild folk.

As dusk fell, Mu Shi carried Lin Yan and held Yeye’s hand as they returned.

They had spent the entire afternoon absorbing new knowledge, utterly engrossed. Mu Shi hadn’t even had time to chop wood, so the three returned empty-handed.

Mu Shi prepared dinner, simmering meat broth, when Huahong and Yezi came back.

“It smells so good! I could smell it from far away,” Yezi took a deep breath. “Ever since we had fire, the food is so much better. I never want to eat raw meat again. Fire is truly a blessing.”

Huahong checked if Lin Yan was hurt and said, “Fire is amazing. Now everyone uses it and no one eats raw meat anymore. I ran into A Hong from the Huangye family today. She said that since they got fire, her mother Huangye can eat again, and her health is improving.”

“Really?” Yezi was surprised. “Huangye is the oldest person in the tribe, and her health had been declining. If that’s true, that’s wonderful.”

The elders had lived through much and could bring valuable life experience to the tribe. Everyone hoped Huangye would live many more winters.

“It’s true. A Hong told me herself. She’s grateful to Lin Yan for discovering the fire.”

“That’s great. I hope Huangye can live through many more cold seasons.”

The broth was ready, and after a simple meal, they prepared to rest.

Suddenly, Mu Shi said, “Today, Lin Yan mentioned writing and numbers. She’ll teach the children tomorrow.”

Huahong and Yezi were shocked and asked, “What’s that?”

Mu Shi picked up a burnt stick, its end blackened, and a stone slab.

By the firelight, he slowly wrote his name on the slab—‘Mu Shi.’

The handwriting was uneven, his hand trembling slightly, but Mu Shi was thrilled. Since Lin Yan had drawn his name on the ground, he had memorized it.

He had held back until now but couldn’t resist writing it down.

After finishing, he looked at Lin Yan. “Is this right?”

Lin Yan nodded appreciatively. “Yes. You’re amazing, Mu Shi. You got it right on the first try.”

Huahong hurriedly asked, “Is that really Mu Shi’s name?”

“Yes. Mother, do you want to know how to write your name?”

Huahong said immediately, “Yes, teach me quickly.”

Yezi snapped back to attention, unwilling to fall behind. “Mine too! I want to write my name.”

If others had it, they wanted it too. That was how they felt at that moment.

Lin Yan took the stone slab and burnt stick and wrote down Huahong and Yezi’s names.

The two quickly found their own slabs and sticks and began practicing by copying Lin Yan’s writing.

Mu Shi found two more stone slabs and gave one to Yeye, carefully writing his name stroke by stroke.

Lin Yan then noticed that each of them stared at the slabs with their names, their smiles growing brighter and brighter.

After a while, Huahong asked, “So this is writing. But what’s the use of writing down names?”

“Mother, there are many people in the tribe, and not everyone knows you. Those who are close know you’re called Huahong, but strangers don’t. If everyone knows writing, you can just write your name down, and even strangers can know it.”

“Writing is a way to record and pass things down. When everyone knows writing, whatever you want to leave for future generations can be preserved through these symbols.”

Yeye had a sudden idea. “When Mother isn’t home and someone wants to find you, I want to give you a message but don’t want others to know. Can I use writing to pass the message secretly?”

“Yes, Yeye, you’re very clever,” Lin Yan immediately praised.

Yeye’s eyes shone even brighter, and his small body straightened instinctively.

“Writing has many uses. You’ll learn more with time. Next, we’ll learn to count, starting from zero to nine…”

They studied earnestly, writing down everything Lin Yan said. Some things were simple and immediately understood; others they noted for later.

That night, the four who had learned their names and numbers were satisfied and excited, unable to sleep.

In other families in the tribe where children were gathered, they told their families about writing, showed off their ability to write their names, and proudly recited the numbers they had learned.