King of the Wilderness

He ate very slowly, savoring this hard-won food.

However, his thoughts had long since drifted outside the shelter, to the intertidal zone he relied on for survival and the temporary holding pond where he stored food.

He began to think about the scene he saw during his morning inspection.

The natural pool he used for temporarily holding seafood, though deeper than the shallow ponds by the shore, had already developed a lot of broken ice.

The temperature of the water surface had obviously dropped to freezing point. He knew it wouldn’t take many days for this pool to be completely sealed by a thick, hard layer of ice starting from the surface.

He put down the pot in his hand and faced the camera, analyzing seriously: ”That temporary holding pond is about to fail. Once it completely freezes, all the food I’ve stored will be locked beneath the ice layer.”

”Every time I want to use it, I’ll have to break through the thick ice layer with an ice axe, which in sub-zero temperatures is not only a huge physical exertion but also a form of torture.”

He needed a new container, not for underwater storage, but to bring all the mussels back for centralized processing and management.

In his mind, a perfect material instantly appeared: bulrush!

After finishing lunch and cleaning the iron pot, he did not rest for a moment.

It was still snowing heavily outside, but he had two core tasks that had to be completed today.

He put on his down jacket, donned his gear, carefully checked his waterproof gloves, and stepped once more into that blustery, snowy world.

He headed straight to that bulrush wetland he knew so thoroughly.

At this moment, the wetland was already covered with white snow, with stalks of withered yellow bulrushes stubbornly puncturing through the snow, each topped with darker brown ”candles.”

He trudged through the mix of snow and ice, producing a ”crunch crunch” sound.

Lin Yu’an trudged through the snow while delivering a professional explanation to the camera.

”Typically, during this season, the bulrush leaves have undergone repeated frost, making them very brittle and unsuitable for weaving.”

”Their fiber structure has been damaged. However, there are always exceptions.”

He did not linger in the open area of the wetland but instead circled to the edge of the wetland, a wind-sheltered corner where the terrain was slightly higher and the snow thinner.

”In some special microclimates, such as this wind-sheltered place, plants are much less affected by frost. What I’m looking for are those survivors.”

He patiently checked the state of clumps of bulrushes, carefully observing the leaves at the base of the stalks. Most of the leaves, as he expected, shattered upon touch.

But he did not give up. Finally, in an area surrounded by several large stones, he found what he wanted.

Here, several clumps of bulrushes had leaves that, though also yellowed, were noticeably more ”oily” than those in other places, without that dry and cracked feeling.

He carefully cut off a broad leaf, kneading and bending it repeatedly with his fingers. The leaf made a ”squeak” noise but did not break, instead displaying astonishing resilience!

”Found it.” A smile appeared on his face.

”These are the perfect materials we are looking for today. Their quality certainly cannot compare to leaves from late summer or early autumn, but after treatment, they’ll be sufficient for us to complete the task.”

He carefully selected and immediately began working, only collecting bulrush leaves and stalks that still retained their resilience.

He also used the blade of the axe to carefully draw a circle on the ice around the bulrush roots, then struck with the back of the axe to crack the ice layer, exposing the moist frozen soil beneath.

Kneeling in the snow, he inserted a digging stick into the mud, feeling around to dig out those slender rhizomes to supplement one of the main food sources for the coming days.

Over an hour later, he returned to the warm shelter with a bundle of bulrush roots and a large bundle of stringently selected ”survivor” bulrush leaves.

He placed the gathered haul in a corner, then sat by the fireplace and began a new task.

”Now, I will treat these materials with a revival process.” He filled the iron pot with water and placed it on the fireplace to heat.

At the same time, he carefully wound the selected bulrush leaves into a coil, placing it beside the fireplace to allow them to slowly regain warmth in the cozy environment.

Once the water was hot, he immersed the bulrush leaves in batches into the warm water, soaking them for about ten minutes.

He pulled a leaf from the warm water and displayed it to the camera: ”Warm water enables the dried plant fibers to reabsorb moisture and regain elasticity and flexibility. Now they have reached the minimum standard for weaving.”

He set aside all the treated bulrush leaves and then began constructing the frame of the storage basket.

He selected the eight sturdiest, straightest bulrush stalks, laid them crisscrossed on the ground in an ”X” shape, forming a radial framework.

Next, he took two of the longest, most flexible bulrush leaves and, starting from the center point, used a crisscross method to firmly ”lock” the eight frame pieces together.

He weaved up and down, crossing over, like weaving a sacred totem, and soon, the sturdy, radial bottom of a basket was formed.

”The foundation of the basket is set. Now, raise the ’warp’ and begin weaving the side walls.”

He bent the ends of the eight bulrush stalks upward, forming a circular frame. Then, he picked up those bulrush leaves that had undergone ”revival” treatment and began the skill-testing side wall weaving.