Chapter 217: First Contact

After a hurried night, the people on the ship began rising and making preparations before dawn.

Today was the most critical day. According to Pan Mingzhong and the others' deductions, the nearby natives would most likely come to make contact with the Transmigrators today, or tomorrow at the latest.

As for whether it would be a Pig Rush style contact or a probing one, no one could guess. The people on the Yuan Dou could only cope with shifting events by sticking to one principle, racing against time to repair and build a wall first.

The wooden wall's construction was very slow. Even for a tiny stockade, an internal area of three to four hundred square meters was still necessary, so the vast majority of today's labor would be spent on building the wall: leveling the ground, digging a trench, ramming the logs...

Electricity and wires were no help with these tasks, because the Yuan Dou could not carry that much engineering machinery. Apart from sharpening the wood, everything else had to be done bit by bit with human labor.

So the entire morning was spent ramming wood. These logs, sharpened at one end and only 1.8 meters in height, were untreated. After being bound into a wall, the wood would warp over time as the moisture inside evaporated.

But none of these problems mattered right now. The Exploration Team's top priority was to gain a firm foothold here; it was the so-called golden three... one day. As for the future, as long as they could hold their ground, the stockade would naturally be expanded in stages, and this inner wall would soon be torn down for firewood.

After a busy morning, Pan Mingzhong saw that the stockade wall was only one-third complete, so he knew today was a lost cause and they would have to return to the ship to sleep tonight. Fortunately, up to this point, the sentries had not spotted any natives within the cleared field of fire, which let Pan Mingzhong's suspended heart relax a little: "Maybe the natives rarely come to this area?"

With mixed feelings of joy and worry, Pan Mingzhong gave the order to stop work and start the meal. Hearing the command, everyone immediately abandoned their tools and gathered around the two large iron pots, cheerfully waiting for food.

The next moment, Cao Cao arrived.

Pan Mingzhong, who had just sat his rear on the ground, scrambled up the instant he heard a sentry's loud shout: "Situation to the south!" He grabbed his AK and looked south.

South was the direction of the river embankment.

What entered Pan Mingzhong's eyes now were two figures standing by the embankment, about 200 meters away. When he picked up his binoculars for a closer look, he saw it was a man and a woman. The two figures were one tall and one short, completely naked. The woman was a child, about seven, eight, or nine years old. The man was a bit older, probably twelve, thirteen, or fourteen — this was Pan Mingzhong's guess; the ages of primitive natives were completely different from people of later generations.

"Old Ning, get on the Machine Gun Nest!" The first moment Pan Mingzhong saw those two child figures, he broke out in a sweat and grabbed the Walkie-Talkie to issue orders: the little ones had come, could the old ones be far behind?

"In position, over!" Ning Wei's reply soon came through the Walkie-Talkie.

"Everyone on alert! Lei Jian, Lei Jian, observe immediately!"

"Already looking!" Lei Jian, positioned not far away, was at that moment holding a large infrared observation device, meticulously searching the surrounding Dense Forest.

Pan Mingzhong had reason to be this nervous; this was the moment the camp's defenses were at their weakest.

The Yuan Dou was positioned on the water below the riverbank, so Ning Wei in the Machine Gun Nest had a very poor field of view — he could not see any movement above the riverbank. His Heavy Machine Gun would only come into play if enemies charged down from the bank onto the river beach.

And Pan Mingzhong and the others' position at this time was very awkward: the camp, backed against the riverbank, was now like a maze formation, with scattered sections of wooden post walls full of gaps, offering no protective function at all. Moreover, there were no heavy weapons on the bank, only a few AKs and several Twenty-Eight Style rifles. If a large group of savages suddenly charged out, things would be troublesome.

Reality proved that someone was overthinking it.

After Lei Jian used the instrument to meticulously scan the woods, he told Pan Mingzhong clearly: there was no large group of enemies; nearby there were only those two native children who had appeared from who-knows-where.

"Whew..." Pan Mingzhong first let out a long breath, then ordered heightened alert while the rest continued their meal.

... After issuing a series of commands, he first fumbled inside his canvas mountaineering pack for a moment, then walked along the river embankment toward the two children. When the distance between both sides was about 30 meters, Pan Mingzhong stopped... because the boy had already grabbed the girl's hand and looked ready to bolt.

So Pan Mingzhong threw the candy in his hand over to them.

The candy had been purchased in Fuzhou City; there was osmanthus candy and sesame candy. Pan Mingzhong first showed the two children the red-paper-wrapped candy in his hand, then with a swing of his arm, the candy flew over.

Seeing a red object land not far ahead, the dark-skinned, skinny boy hesitated for a moment, then suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the candy from the grass.

The next moment, Pan Mingzhong raised the candy in his hand high, then peeled off the red paper and demonstrated to the two children how to eat it.

The boy quickly stuffed the candy into his own mouth.

After chewing the candy a few times, the boy smiled. Then he took that piece of candy out of his mouth and stuffed it into the mouth of the girl, who was looking up at him with eager eyes.

Children are, after all, easy to fool.

By the time Pan Mingzhong had only one piece of candy left in his hand, the two children had been lured right in front of him, like dogs.

The next moment, Pan Mingzhong smiled and extended his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, the boy slowly extended his hand as well and took that piece of candy from Pan Mingzhong's palm.

After the uncle had won the little friends' trust, he could take them to see the goldfish... no, the iron pot. The two little friends were subsequently led to the camp, seated on a section of wood beside the iron pot, and began babbling and gesturing with the broadly smiling uncle.

Although from start to finish, the uncle never figured out the content of the two children's speech, he at least clarified one thing: the children's names.

This pair, clearly a brother and sister native combo, had the brother named Tagan and the sister named Tanan.

The siblings Tagan and Tanan soon tasted the first bowl of venison soup over rice in their lives. Primitive people had no iron pots, so they always skewered and roasted their game, wrapped grains in plant leaves, or stuffed them into bamboo tubes to cook.

The runaway siblings received preferential treatment in the camp today. Not only did they eat boiled meat, but each of them also got a windcoat... actually, it was just the indigo-blue work jackets ordinary laborers wore, but draped over these two, they became windcoats, covering them at least down past the knees.

After this, when Pan Mingzhong respectfully saw the two off, he also hung a cloth bag on Tagan: inside was a bag of salt, a Glass Ball, a porcelain bowl, and a piece of candy.

What followed was an anxious wait.

The existence of a native village nearby was now confirmed; it was only a matter of waiting for them to come knocking. Unlike before, the Transmigrators, having already shown goodwill, now had a bit more confidence and were no longer in constant fear.

Around four in the afternoon, amid the sentry's warning shouts, a large group of natives finally appeared.

Numbering about 200, the native Warriors, carrying spears, slowly emerged from the woods. These people were no different from their relatives in Tainan and Taipei, equally naked, equally wearing various ornaments around their necks, some of them even having wooden plugs through their ears and lips — a style so primitive it was off the charts.

Seeing this scene, Comrade Pan Mingzhong could not help but feel joy surge in his heart: the natives had not performed a Pig Rush, and he had already spotted the siblings Tagan and Tanan walking in the front row.

"Very good, looks like they didn't come to fight." Pan Mingzhong said with a smile to Lei Jian beside him. Then he shouted loudly to the team members already arrayed in strict formation behind him: "Everyone pay attention! No shooting without my order!"

... When the main native Troops stopped at a distance of only 50 meters from the camp, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief. The next moment, the ancient method of contact played out once more: three men who looked like leaders walked out and met Pan Mingzhong in the middle of the open ground.

What should have been a very historic and solemn contact was, in fact, an entirely unremarkable process — because there was no Translator.

The natives here in the Miaoli area belonged to a mountain ravine group, pure unassimilated aborigines. Their language was neither the Austronesian language family spoken over in Dayuan, nor was it clearly similar to that of their relatives in Taipei. So the Xingang Society translator brought this time by the Yuan Dou could only understand less than 10% of the local words.

What to do without a Translator? They could only communicate in the most primitive way.

The native leader was a man with loose skin, a face full of wrinkles, and an appearance aged beyond belief. After he walked over, he first went through a flurry of hand and foot gestures. At the same time, the Old Man's mouth produced an aria-like chant.

After the awkward dance ended, the old man saw Pan Mingzhong imitate his final gesture, striking a hands-outstretched pose, and seemed very pleased.

Next, the old man took out the cloth bag Pan Mingzhong had given the boy, then pulled out that bag of salt and said something. Following this, a robust Warrior behind him threw a small black bearskin at Pan Mingzhong's feet.

... Everyone understood this gesture, so very quickly, under the auspices of a translator learning the local language on the spot, barter trade began.

The natives here did not have many items to trade. They had no Sulfur, and their furs were not plentiful: the acculturated aborigines of Dayuan would consciously dry and store all furs for trade, but the unassimilated aborigines of this place clearly had no such concept.

But this didn't matter. In Pan Mingzhong's view, as long as these natives were willing to trade, everything was fine.

Before evening, the outsiders had already traded salt, cloth, Glass Beads, and coarse porcelain bowls for all the natives' goods: furs, dried meat jerky, and rice.

Seeing that a portion of the native Warriors had shouldered salt and cloth and started back home, Pan Mingzhong knew the other side's wariness had dropped considerably. So he then brought out the ultimate move, tried and tested, effective across the Multiverse: treating them to a meal.

Very few natives could remain calm when facing a large iron pot, especially after they ate stewed meat with enough seasoning added.

When that aged leader finished drinking the thick, sticky meat broth from a porcelain bowl, the main event finally arrived: the next moment, both sides began using gestures to discuss one thing — exchanging iron pots for land.

Just like the Red Hair trading Glass Balls for Manhattan.