The bun slipped from Shen Xiaoxiao’s hand and hit the floor. After a few seconds of daze, she hurriedly snatched it up, “Three-second rule!” But in no time, worrying about whether the bun was clean enough to eat was forgotten, and she spun her sluggish little brain rapidly: “If those aren’t their kids, then what are they?”
Jiang Yan: “Trafficked children.”
Shen Xiaoxiao’s eyes widened, totally stunned. “But—”
Jiang Yan broke open a bun; compared to answering, she was more interested in breakfast at the moment. “Don’t ask me, ask your sister.”
Shen Xiaoxiao looked longingly at Shen Huanhuan for answers.
Shen Huanhuan’s gaze fell on her bowl, her focus gathering bit by bit. At last, she spoke, “I think I understand now.”
Shen Xiaoxiao leaned forward: “Tell us, quick.”
“I actually wondered before…” Shen Huanhuan mused, “Inferiority often lasts a lifetime. Erzhuang and the other kids had their sense of beauty twisted, truly believing themselves to be ugly, which would make them shy and sensitive—really pitiful.”
“But if those children aren’t the villagers’ own, it makes sense. As outsiders, the deformed children are actually the villagers’ biological kids. The village definitely doesn’t want anyone to criticize their deformed babies, so they twist the outsiders’ sense of beauty from early on, elevating the deformed children’s status.”
“The villagers don’t care about their psychological health. Their purpose is to produce offspring, using fresh blood to decrease the chances of new deformities.”
Shen Xiaoxiao took some time to digest this, then asked, “But inbreeding doesn’t always mean you’ll get a deformed child—most of the time they’re normal. Don’t the normal babies born in the village get called ugly by the trafficked kids, too?”
Shen Huanhuan: “As long as they keep those kids away from the trafficked children, it’s fine. After all… girls can have children as young as eight or nine; after that, these trafficked ‘tools’ probably never see the sun again.”
“Shit, what the hell?!” Shen Xiaoxiao slapped the table and cursed for a while, then, as if remembering something, glanced at Shen Huanhuan and shrank her neck.
But this time, Shen Huanhuan didn’t scold her. Instead, she turned to Jiang Yan: “Am I right?”
Jiang Yan: “That’s about what I think.”
Shen Huanhuan pressed her lips together, trying to piece together the whole sequence.
“I just feel like simply having deformed babies isn’t enough to drive them to kidnap children—there must have been something worse, which is why they turned to trafficking.”
Jiang Yan picked up the thread: “Death.”
Shen Huanhuan was silent for a moment. “Right, death.”
“The harmful genes here might do more than just cause deformity—they might be lethal.”
“So the newborns die young, not even living to two. Silkworm Village doesn’t have many people left, which suggests the gene outbreak didn’t just start now, but in the previous or even the generation before—deformed kids appeared early on, ignored at first, until so many died so quickly that the population shrank. Only then did the villagers start to care, but with such a remote, poor village, no one who left would return, and no outsiders would come in, so they set their sights on children from outside, trying to bring in fresh blood through trafficking.”
Jiang Yan didn’t speak, but her expression clearly agreed.
Shen Huanhuan sighed.
She pushed all the food toward Jiang Yan: “Luckily, things aren’t as bad as they could be—He Miaomiao and Erzhuang are still okay, and maybe so are the other kids. There’s still time.”
“We’ll go with you to the ancestral hall later. You want the genealogy, right?”
After all, the family tree would list everyone born in Silkworm Village, with full vital statistics.
Jiang Yan: “Something like that.”
Shen Xiaoxiao reached for another fresh bun.
Her sister now felt like the student who, after the teacher’s tip, aces the whole test—while she herself had napped through class, not even knowing there was a quiz.
After breakfast, Shen Huanhuan took a paper figure from her bag. Cut from yellow paper, it was simply outlined in cinnabar.
Jiang Yan, having never seen it before, asked, “What’s this?”
“Maoshan paper man technique,” Shen Huanhuan said, “I traded it with Cheng Guang. Burn a soul-gathering talisman over it, recite the incantation seven times, and the paper figure can share my senses and do basic actions. Downside is, it can’t talk, tears easily, and if destroyed, I’ll be affected too.”
This was basic stuff, but knowing Jiang Yan was newly apprenticed—senior only by age—she explained in detail. Afterward, she added, “Once you pick up the basics, Abbot He will teach you how to write talismans. Different traditions excel at different charms. When you can draw them, I’ll swap with you—not Cheng Guang.”
Jiang Yan laughed, “Deal.”
Outside, the wind picked up, raindrops drumming on the firewood pile in the yard. To keep the wood dry, Wang Guilan bustled back and forth. The chief’s deep cough rumbled from the inner rooms.
Time was short. Without another word, Shen Huanhuan pulled out the talisman, chanted the spell, and before long, the flat paper doll trembled to life in her palm.
“Let’s go,” she said.
It all went smoothly. While Wang Guilan fussed with the firewood, the three slipped out the door, the noise drowned out by the wind.
At 7:30, the sky was as black as night, like some giant mouth waiting to swallow everything.
“But where is the ancestral hall?” Shen Xiaoxiao was lost.
Shen Huanhuan: “Back to mountains, facing water is best. The ancestral hall should sit with its back to the mountain and face the river.”
Jiang Yan thought, then pointed in a direction.
Shen Huanhuan nodded, and the three hurried that way, rain beating the umbrella like a drum over their heads.
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the ancestral hall.
It wasn’t large. The red wood plaque had faded, some curve left in its shape, but the stone steps were bare of weeds—obviously kept clean for worship.
“Let’s go.” Jiang Yan closed her umbrella first and stepped onto the stone stairs.
Shen Huanhuan followed. Shen Xiaoxiao hesitated, rubbing her temples, then popped a hard candy in her mouth.
The ancestral hall’s wooden doors were unlocked, swinging open at a push. Inside, a thick pillar bore five vertical couplets. Jiang Yan swept her eyes over them, then looked to the inner pillars, where another inscription read: “May I transmit my name from father and mother, hear the command of forebears clear as day.”
They didn’t linger in the front hall. After confirming nothing special there, they moved to the back.
Atop the rear hall hung a plaque: “Bless Our Descendants.” Outside, boxes of various herbs were stacked neatly—these must be what Wang Guilan brought last night, and the numbers here far surpassed the chief’s yard. The village must store all its herbs here.
Time was pressing. As per the show rules, the paper man must not be discovered, so they had to work fast.
“Ready to go in?” Jiang Yan asked.
If something really happened, she wouldn’t dare act rashly—she didn’t know if her attacks would hurt a spirit, so she’d have to rely on the twins, especially the capable-looking Shen Huanhuan.
But Shen Huanhuan looked at Shen Xiaoxiao: “Xiaoxiao, how are you?”
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded. “I feel a little off. Even right outside…”
Shen Xiaoxiao was highly sensitive to spirits—otherwise, she wouldn’t be so adept at spirit channelling. If she wasn’t uncomfortable, there was usually no danger—but her unease meant things could get serious. Jiang Yan quickly understood, and so did Shen Huanhuan.
“Stay safe.”
Shen Huanhuan stepped to the front.
She drew a breath, held a talisman between forefinger and middle finger, made sure all was ready, and slowly pushed the hall door open.