Repairing the House

### Chapter 12: Repairing the House

At dawn, the first thing Chen An did upon waking was step outside and look up at the main house's roof, where several holes glared especially harshly in the morning light. With the stone axe in hand, the pressing urgency of having shelter from wind and rain—a worry that had lingered in his heart—finally gave him the capital to act. Repairing the roof was the first step in carrying out his survival blueprint, and the key to upgrading a "refuge" into a "home."

He weighed the heavy stone axe in his hand; the dark green blade gleamed with a cold, hard luster under the morning sun. Compared to the helplessness he'd felt before with only a broken hatchet, his heart was now filled with an unprecedented sense of confidence. Tools were indeed an extension of productivity, and even more so, a source of courage.

He didn't rush into action. Instead, like a meticulous engineer, he first conducted a detailed on-site inspection. He circled 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, with the thatch and rafters around its edges completely rotted. There were also several smaller cracks and missing sections along the edges. As for the walls, the main issue was that some of the mud mortar filling the gaps between the stones had fallen out, letting the wind through.

He quickly formulated a construction plan in his mind: fix the biggest hole first, then deal with the smaller cracks, and finally patch up the wall gaps. The core materials would be rafters, thatch, and clay.

He picked up the stone axe and walked toward the few trees in the yard that had long been "designated" as sources of building materials. This time, instead of carefully hacking at thin branches, he aimed for the relatively straight main branches as thick as a bowl's rim.

He bent his legs slightly, gripped the axe handle tightly, took a deep breath, and swung the stone axe in a powerful arc, putting his waist and abdomen into it—crack! A sharp, crisp sound far cleaner than the hatchet's, as wood chips flew and a gash several inches deep appeared in the trunk!

The efficiency was worlds apart! Chen An's spirits soared. Adjusting his angle, he swung again. Repeating this just over a dozen times, a sturdy, straight rafter nearly three meters long fell to the ground with a thud. Stroking the smooth break, he savored the thrill of raw power.

He used the stone axe to trim off the branches and cut the rafter to the needed length. Then, following the same method, he chopped down two slightly thinner ones as supplementary materials.

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

Finally, the binder. He remembered that while clearing the garden plot, he'd dug up a patch of particularly fine, sticky soil in the southeast corner. He found a broken pottery shard to use as a shovel and brought back a big lump of moist, highly malleable clay.

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

He leaned the longest rafter against the wall as a makeshift ladder. Then, hugging a few shorter materials and a bundle of thatch, with the hatchet tied in vines clenched between his teeth, he carefully climbed onto the roof. The thatch layer, weakened by years of neglect, was very fragile. He had to choose his footing with extreme caution, stepping only where there were rafters beneath for support.

Reaching the edge of the biggest hole, he first cleared away the completely rotted thatch and decayed wood around it, exposing a few bare main beams underneath. Fortunately, the main beams were still solid. He placed the newly cut rafters over the hole, crossing and fixing them to the existing structure, binding them tightly with tough vines to create a new support frame.

Then, he evenly spread a thick layer of fresh thatch over the frame, with the roots facing the roof ridge and the tips pointing downward, so rainwater would slide off easily. After laying one layer, he pressed the thatch roots down with longer, thin wooden strips and tied them securely to the rafters below with vines. He repeated this process two or three times, until the thickness far exceeded the surrounding old roof, forming a sturdy grass mat.

Finally, he took the mixed wet clay and carefully smeared it over the surface and edges of the thatch layer, especially where it met the old roof, smoothing and pressing it down to create a waterproof seal. This step required patience and care; like a mason, he made sure every spot was covered without leaving any gaps.

When the largest hole was completely filled and the sunlight was once again shut out, Chen An sat on the roof, wiped the sweat from his mud-stained hand across his forehead, and looked at his handiwork with a long, relieved sigh. A tremendous sense of satisfaction welled up inside him.

With the experience of fixing the big hole, handling the smaller cracks and edge gaps became much easier. He followed the same method—replacing the rotted rafters, laying new thatch, and smearing on clay. Soon, the entire roof looked renewed. Though still rough and rustic, the dilapidated, drafty feeling was gone.

After climbing down from the roof, he turned to fixing the wall gaps that let the wind through. He used his fingers to scrape out the loose mud from the stone crevices, then scooped up the wet clay and, like molding Play-Doh, carefully stuffed it into every crack, smoothing it with his hand to ensure a tight seal.

By the time the last wall gap was filled, the sun was already slanting westward. Chen An was covered head to toe in mud, grass clippings, and sweat, looking a mess, but his eyes were unusually bright.

He stepped back to the center of the yard and carefully examined the newly repaired stone house. The roof was thick and even, the wall gaps were tight and solid. Though the materials were crude and the workmanship rough, it exuded a sense of sturdiness and stability.

He walked inside, and the difference was immediate. The subtle draft that had been everywhere before was gone; the air felt steady and warm. Light filtered softly through the gaps in the new thatch, no longer casting harsh bright spots. He imagined what it would be like when it rained—water would slide down the thick thatch layer without penetrating a bit.

"Finally... feels like a home," Chen An murmured to himself, a genuine, heartfelt smile spreading across his face—the most grounded he'd felt since crossing over.

This success wasn't just about providing him with a true shelter from the elements; more importantly, it greatly boosted his confidence. He had proven that even in this strange, terrifying world, with his own hands and wits, he could steadily improve his living conditions.

When night fell and the chilling roars once again echoed outside the yard, Chen An sat inside the newly repaired, airtight stone house and lit a small campfire. The flames were warm and steady, no longer flickering wildly in the wind. He drank hot water boiled over firewood he'd chopped with the new stone axe, savoring the peace he had created with his own hands, his heart full of anticipation for the future.

Next step—it was time to fully cultivate that garden plot. He clenched his fist, his gaze fixed on the black, fertile soil outside the window, waiting to be sown.

(End of Chapter 12)