Wang Yan stared at the food placed in front of him: chicken legs with bone stubble, stubborn pig's feet, and a few mouthfuls of ham—what was left of the meal. Beside these, there were various unknown tubers and fruits, likely the primitive people's usual food stores. Everything was offered spontaneously by the primitive people.
The violent reputation of Wang Yan had instilled a deep fear in them. The law of the jungle had taught them to obey the strong, even if it meant resisting the unprecedented temptation of food. For these primitive tribes, food was synonymous with survival.
Handing it over was an act of submission, an acknowledgment that they had relinquished their dominance.
They had been starving for days due to the relentless storm, and now, they stood silently by the cave walls, their eyes fixed on Wang Yan as they awaited his reaction.
Wang Yan looked at the pile of food in front of him, most of it seeming like scraps scavenged from the trash. He couldn't help but laugh and shake his head in frustration. Did these people who had never seen the world really think he would eat this?
"%&...&@..."
The patriarch of the primitive tribe stepped out from the crowd. He pointed at the food, then at himself, mumbling something to Wang Yan, likely trying to explain their actions. After finishing, he glanced at Wang Yan, pressed his hands to his chest, and slowly returned to the group.
What did he mean by that?
Wang Yan sat on the stone bench, utterly confused, unable to decipher the patriarch's intentions.
The language barrier was a real problem.
Since he couldn't understand, Wang Yan simply decided not to dwell on it. He was a god, after all. His thoughts were supreme commands; whatever the people below him thought was irrelevant.
Wang Yan's gaze slowly moved across the primitive people in the cave. His eyes lit up when he noticed a skinny child peeking at him from behind an adult. He picked up a relatively clean chicken leg from the ground and beckoned to the child, "Come here…"
The gesture was universal.
The child looked at Wang Yan in fear and quickly pulled back, hiding once more. However, in an effort to please Wang Yan, an adult behind the child pushed him forward.
The child stumbled out of the crowd, looking back with a face full of grievance, as if he were being led to an execution. Step by trembling step, he walked towards Wang Yan.
"Come on! I'm not going to eat you," Wang Yan said with a grin. He couldn't wait any longer. He took a few steps forward, squatted down in front of the child, touched his head, and pointed to the chicken leg, "Drumstick!"
Wang Yan had just launched his first attempt at spreading Mandarin throughout the universe. The language might have been unclear, but he knew they would understand eventually.
The great Qin Shihuang had managed to unify China under a common script and language—why couldn't Wang Yan do the same here? The entire universe should speak Mandarin!
The child stood there, bewildered, not understanding what was happening.
"Drumstick!" Wang Yan repeated.
The irresistible fragrance of the chicken filled the child's nostrils. He stared at the drumstick, his mouth watering, but he hesitated to take it.
"Drumstick!" Wang Yan insisted once more.
The child seemed to grasp Wang Yan's intent, but he remained silent, too scared to speak.
"Say 'drumstick,' and it's yours," Wang Yan coaxed, shaking the chicken leg in front of the child's eyes.
Suddenly, a naive voice broke the silence, "Outrigger!"
Wang Yan's eyes widened in surprise and joy. He quickly stood up, scanning the crowd, "Who? Who just said that?"
The crowd parted, revealing a mother and her young daughter. The mother was dark and thin, clutching her daughter's mouth with fear in her eyes. The little girl, about three or four years old, struggled against her mother's grip, her large, curious eyes peering up at Wang Yan.
Wang Yan moved swiftly, appearing before the mother and daughter. He gestured for the mother to release her child, then squatted down and smiled, "Drumstick!"
"Outrigger," the little girl repeated, her voice sweet and clear. She reached out, grabbing the drumstick with both hands, the fear of the adults around her not reaching her innocent heart.
"Yes, that's right. This drumstick is yours," Wang Yan said, laughing. He hadn't expected his language lessons to bear fruit so quickly. Elated, he picked up the little girl, placing the drumstick firmly in her hands, repeating, "Drumstick, for you!"
The little girl giggled, her voice ringing out as she said, "Drumstick, yours!"
Wang Yan laughed along with her.
The little girl wasted no time, biting into the drumstick. In these times of scarcity, food was always prioritized for the young and strong. The rations given to the elderly and children were barely enough to sustain them. She had been starving.
The surrounding primitive people watched in envy, their mouths watering, but no one dared to snatch the food from her.
"Chicken…drumstick…" another timid voice stuttered.
Wang Yan turned to see the boy from earlier, his face flushed as he stared at the girl's drumstick, stumbling over the word, "Outrigger!"
"Yes, you get one too!" Wang Yan smiled warmly at him. He realized that food was an excellent motivator. Teaching these people to speak was easier than training puppies.
Setting the girl down, Wang Yan rummaged through the food pile and found another drumstick. He handed it to the boy without worrying about its cleanliness.
No matter how dirty the food was, it was better than what they usually ate. Wang Yan was confident that the strong stomachs of these primitive people could handle any bacteria.
The boy, overjoyed, took the drumstick and ran off to enjoy it.
The rest of the primitive people finally understood Wang Yan's intentions. They realized that they didn't need to risk their lives hunting; they could get food just by saying two simple words. It was the best deal in the world.
To these primitive people, Wang Yan, with all his power but little regard for food, must have seemed like the most foolish being in existence.
Soon, the cave was filled with shouts of "Plus retreat!" "Zhi leg!" "Jituner!" The Chinese pronunciations echoed around the cave as everyone scrambled to learn the new language. Even the respected patriarch was no exception, raising his hands and shouting, "Outrigger! Outrigger!"
"Very good! One at a time!" Wang Yan laughed heartily. Teaching the masses brought him great joy, both physically and mentally.
This was what a god should do!
And who would have thought that the promotion of Mandarin in another world would start with "chicken legs"?
It was an event worthy of being recorded in history, carved into murals!
The cooked food Wang Yan had brought was just a day's inventory from a meat shop. There were only about forty drumsticks, many of which had already been spoiled. Yet, under his enthusiastic tutelage, they were quickly distributed.
Then, his people learned a second word—"donkey enema."
And then "elbow flower," "trotter"…
In just half an hour, all the food had been handed out, and the primitive people had a much-expanded vocabulary, including words like "chicken leg," "enema," "ham," and more.
To reinforce their memory, many clever primitive people continued muttering and reviewing "chicken legs, trotters, elbow flowers…" long after the food was gone. Their happy chatter filled the cave.
Using food to promote language had been highly effective. Wang Yan was pleased. He even considered whether he should teach them to "report the name of the dish" next!
Imagine a large group of primitive humans, clad in disheveled grass skirts, confidently reciting, "Steamed lamb, steamed bear paw, steamed stag tail, roasted duck, roasted chicken, roasted goose, braised pig, braised duck…" The imagery was too perfect!