Seeing them look as if they had been thunderstruck, Eric quickly added:
"Of course, with a few improvements, it can be used for writing! The materials are easy to find, too. Dried grass, tree bark, bamboo—they all work!"
"Really!" The Dwarves immediately cheered up.
"Yes, really. It’s just that my craftsmanship is limited, and there are many supporting tools I can’t make."
Chief Joseph pounded his chest: "As long as you can draw its shape, there’s nothing we Dwarves can’t make!"
Eric then drew the shapes of several types of molds and bamboo screens used for papermaking on the ground. After looking at the drawings, two of the Dwarves volunteered to go and make them right away. They decided to continue using reeds, as they were the easiest to find and process.
In the midst of the lively discussion, a familiar voice sounded from behind Eric:
"Let’s go. I’ll go with you."
He turned around with a start. Max had been standing there for who knows how long. Backlit by the sun, his face was unclear, only his tall figure with muscles rippling under the sunlight was visible. Truly a capable worker.
Eric unconsciously swallowed, silently cursing his incurable weakness for handsome men.
Life is so unfair!
We’re both Snow Wolves, so why does he have a rippling six-pack while I look like a wimpy noodle?
Isn’t he supposed to be training? Eric remembered Thomas had already started letting Max lead the warriors by himself. He then thought, ever since I came here, Max’s attitude has changed a lot. He’s always been caring and attentive, and has missed his own work for my sake more than once. Could it be...
At this thought, his face burned. He quickly dismissed it; he had no intention of sinking the main couple’s ship. He said awkwardly:
"That might not be a good idea, Max. Don’t you have to go to training? I can just go with Luban and the others."
Max just looked at him silently for a moment, his dark eyes deep and profound, then the corners of his lips curved up slightly:
"I’ll go with you. We’ll harvest faster together."
Eric had no more reasons to refuse. Max then crouched down, signaling for him to climb onto his back: "I’ll carry you. It’ll be faster."
The last time he was carried was when Max was in his wolf form. Now that he was in human form, it felt strange. He looked around and saw everyone looking at them as if it were the most natural thing in the world; no one showed any sign of surprise.
Maybe I’m the only one with dirty thoughts?
Eric gritted his teeth and climbed onto Max’s broad and sturdy back.
Not knowing where to put his hands, he fumbled for a moment before finally wrapping them around Max’s neck.
Snow Wolves are strong anyway, it should be fine. Hearing Max’s low chuckle by his ear, Eric’s face grew even hotter. He buried his face in Max’s back, figuring what the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over.
At the riverbank, Max transformed into a giant wolf and used his sharp claws to mow down large swaths of reeds. His efficiency was no joke. Standing on a rock, Eric clapped his hands in applause like a seal.
After the harvest, Max carried him and several large bundles of reeds back. This time, Eric didn’t need an invitation; he climbed to the top of the reed pile himself, perching there like a king in a parade, waving to the tribe members they passed.
The sun was scorching, and the reeds dried in no time. Eric and the others got to work.
He took a large knife and chopped the reeds with all his might. Seeing this, a few Dwarves joined in to help, but all of them combined were not as fast as Max alone. The knife in Max’s hands moved so fast it left afterimages.
The reed pulp was mixed with lime to ferment. By the time they were done, it was already dark. The female Dwarves brought them dinner. Under the flickering firelight, everyone gathered to eat, drink, and rest after a long day’s work.
The dancing flames illuminated the night, casting a glow on their smiling, warm, and peaceful faces.
Luban raised his glass of barley wine and clinked it against those of the other Dwarves with a loud "clack." The honey-colored liquor sloshed, and a few drops splashed onto the fire, causing it to flare up before flickering again.
"Here’s to us finally getting rid of those damn goatskins and ushering in a new era!" he slurred loudly, raising his glass high.
"Cheers! Cheers! Cheers!"
The other Dwarves howled in response.
What surprised Eric the most was that the female Dwarves also had an incredible tolerance for alcohol. They clinked glasses enthusiastically and finished a large jug of wine in no time.
After his last drinking binge, Eric had woken up with a splitting headache, so this time he was determined not to drink.
Seeing that he was just a cub, they didn’t force him and turned to surround Max instead. Max’s handsome brows furrowed slightly, a hint of unease on his face, but the Dwarves’ enthusiasm made it hard for him to refuse.
Eric sat on the side, gleefully watching the show, thinking to himself: Snow Wolves are such lightweights. They look big, but one bowl is enough to knock them out.
To the Snow Wolves, the Dwarves’ barley wine was both sour and bitter. Having gotten used to drinking Eric’s wine, drinking this was now nothing short of torture.
With a full cup pushed into his hands, Max closed his eyes and chugged it down. He looked like he was drinking bitter medicine, a truly pitiful sight. A few drops of liquor he couldn’t swallow in time trickled down from his chin, onto his muscular chest, and then rolled over his firm abs.
Eric froze, quickly turning his head away and mechanically chewing on a loaf of bread. Oh my god, that body...
Ahhh, have mercy! Sinful, sinful.
It was getting late, and Eric was worried about Leo, so he stood up to leave. He went to Max’s side, about to see how to support the drunkard home, when Max suddenly shot to his feet. His tall figure cast an imposing shadow on the tent wall.
Eric cautiously pointed towards the tribe:
"Max, I’m heading home. Let’s go together."
Max remained silent, merely looking down at him before quietly following. Thankfully, he still knew the way back. Eric planned to take Max to Thomas’s house first.
On the way, Eric playfully stepped on Max’s shadow. When they got home, he struggled for a while to get the drunkard, who was sitting stiff as a log, to lie down on the grass bed, breaking into a sweat from the effort.
A few days later, the second batch of paper was started.
This time, it was a major event. Most of the Dwarves set aside their work to come and help.
They had built a large pulp-grinding machine powered by six magic cores. The reed pulp it produced was extremely fine and smooth.
Chief Joseph even had them test seven different pulp-to-water ratios to find the best type of paper.
Eric thought with a twinge of regret, if only they had bleach, the paper would be as white as it was in the modern era.