House Repairs

Chapter Twelve: House Repairs

Early that morning, the first thing Chen An did after waking was walk outside and look up at the several holes in the main house's roof, which stood out painfully against the dawn. Now that he had a stone axe, the urgency of securing shelter from the wind and rain that had always lingered in his mind finally had the means to become action. Repairing the roof was the first step in carrying out his survival blueprint, and the key to upgrading his "shelter" into a "home."

He weighed the heavy stone axe in his hand. Its dark-green blade gleamed with a cold, hard luster in the morning light. Compared to the helplessness he had felt when he had only had a broken hatchet, he now felt more confident than ever before. Tools truly were an extension of productivity—and an even greater source of confidence.

He did not rush to begin. Instead, like a meticulous engineer, he first conducted a detailed on-site inspection. He walked around the main house, carefully recording the location and size of every gap. The largest hole was in the center of the roof, about half a meter in diameter. The thatch and rafters around its edges had already rotted away. There were also several smaller cracks and damaged edges. As for the walls, some of the mud filling between the stones had fallen away, allowing drafts to pass through.

He quickly formulated a work plan in his mind: deal with the largest hole first, then handle the smaller cracks, and finally patch the gaps in the walls. The core materials would be rafters, thatch, and clay.

Carrying the stone axe, he walked toward the trees in the yard that had long since been "designated" as sources of building materials. This time, he was no longer cautiously shaving away thin branches. Instead, he aimed for the main branches, roughly as thick as a bowl and relatively straight.

He bent his knees slightly, gripped the axe handle with both hands, and took a deep breath. Putting power into his waist and abdomen, he swung the stone axe in a forceful arc. Crack! The tremendous sound was far sharper and cleaner than that of the hatchet. Wood chips flew, and a gash several inches deep appeared in the trunk!

The difference in efficiency was like heaven and earth! Chen An's spirits soared. He adjusted his angle and struck again. After repeating the motion only a dozen or so times, a straight, sturdy rafter nearly three meters long fell to the ground with a thud. Running his hand over the smooth cut, he experienced the exhilaration of primitive strength.

He used the stone axe to remove the branches, then cut the rafter to the required length. Next, he repeated the process and chopped down two slightly thinner pieces to use as auxiliary materials.

Next came the thatch. Along the edge of the courtyard wall grew large patches of an unknown wild grass with broad leaves and tough stalks—ideal roofing material. He switched to the hatchet and cut it in great swaths, quickly piling up a small green hill.

Finally came the adhesive. He remembered that while clearing the garden, he had dug up a patch of soil in the southeast corner that was especially fine and sticky. He found a broken pottery shard to use as a shovel and dug up a large mass of moist, highly malleable clay.

This was the most dangerous and most crucial step. He needed to climb onto the roof to work.

He leaned the longest rafter against the wall at an angle to serve as a "ladder." Then, carrying several shorter pieces of material and an armful of thatch, with the hatchet tied together with vines clenched between his teeth, he carefully climbed onto the roof. The thatch layer had become extremely fragile after years of disrepair, so he had to choose his footholds with the utmost care, stepping only where rafters supported the roof below.

When he reached the edge of the largest hole, he first cleared away the completely rotten thatch and wood around it, exposing several bare main beams underneath. Fortunately, the beams were still fairly sturdy. He laid the newly cut rafters across the hole, securing them crosswise with the existing structure, then tightly bound them with extremely tough vines to create a new supporting framework.

He then spread a thick layer of fresh thatch evenly over the framework, with the roots facing the ridge and the tips pointing downward so rainwater could run off easily. Once one layer was laid down, he pressed the roots in place with longer, thin wooden strips, binding them tightly to the rafters below with vines as well. He repeated the process, laying and pressing down two or three layers until the thatch was much thicker than the surrounding original roof, forming a sturdy grass mat.

Finally, he used the mixed wet clay to carefully coat the surface and edges of the thatch, paying special attention to where it joined the old roof. He smoothed and compacted it, creating a waterproof seal. The process required patience and precision. Like a thatcher, he made sure every spot was covered, leaving no gaps.

When the largest hole had been completely filled and the sunlight was once again shut out, Chen An sat on the roof and wiped away his sweat with the back of a mud-covered hand. Looking at the results of his labor, he let out a long breath. An immense sense of satisfaction welled up within him.

With the experience of repairing the large hole behind him, dealing with the smaller cracks and damaged edges became much easier. He repeated the same process, replacing rotten rafters, laying fresh thatch, and applying clay. Before long, the entire roof looked brand-new. It was still rough and rustic, but the feeling of decay and drafts had vanished.

After climbing down from the roof, he began dealing with the drafts in the walls. He used his fingers to pick the fallen mud clean from the gaps between the stones. Then he dug up moist clay and, like kneading modeling clay, carefully stuffed it into every crack, smoothing it with his hands to ensure a tight seal.

When the last gap in the wall had been filled, the sun was already slanting westward. Chen An was covered from head to toe in dirt, grass clippings, and sweat, looking thoroughly disheveled, but his eyes were exceptionally bright.

He retreated to the center of the courtyard and carefully examined the newly repaired stone house. The roof was thick and even, and the gaps between the walls were tightly sealed. Though the materials were primitive and the workmanship rough, the house gave off an air of solidity and stability.

He walked inside, and the difference was immediate. The faint drafts that had been everywhere before had vanished, and the air had become calm and warm. Light filtered softly through the gaps in the newly laid thatch, no longer forming harsh patches of glare. He imagined what it would be like when it rained: the water would slide down the thick layer of thatch and would never be able to intrude again.

"Finally... it feels like a home." Chen An murmured to himself, wearing the most grounded and heartfelt smile he had shown since arriving in this world.

This success had done more than provide him with a true shelter from the wind and rain. More importantly, it had greatly strengthened his confidence. He had proven that even in this strange and terrifying world, he could improve his living conditions step by step through his own hands and wisdom.

Night fell. When the unnerving howls sounded outside the courtyard once more, Chen An sat inside the newly repaired, airtight stone house and lit a small campfire. The flames were warm and steady, no longer wavering in the chaotic wind. He drank hot water boiled over firewood chopped with his new stone axe, feeling the peace he had created with his own hands. His heart was filled with anticipation for the future.

The next step was to thoroughly cultivate that patch of garden. He clenched his fist and turned his gaze toward the black, fertile soil outside the window, waiting to be planted.

(End of Chapter Twelve)