Wuhai Girls’ School did not allow for any midday rest.
After lunch, everyone gradually returned to the classroom. As soon as Yun Mingyue sat down, she crossed her legs, surveying the others as if they were a pack of hangers-on.
Xiahua shot her a look and lay her head on the desk as though to nap. Fanxing propped her chin, gazing out the window. Wu Mei, clutching a poetry anthology, recited softly to herself; when she reached a cherished line, her eyes curved with delight.
Xu Xing yawned and diligently sketched a diagram of water currents. After finishing the river, she began drawing the stars overhead. Han Yinghuo’s hands drummed rapidly on the air above her desk—motion alternately resembling mincing meat and pounding out a rhythm on a drum.
Ye Tian had few hobbies. She took out a cup, scooped in some white sugar, then shook the mixture briskly; when it dissolved, she tipped her head back for a satisfied sip.
Shen Xiaoxiao, tempted, wanted to exchange mini buns for the sweet drink. But Ye Tian, with easy generosity, handed her the remaining half-can of white sugar instead.
“For you.”
Shen Xiaoxiao asked her, “Will you have enough for yourself?”
Ye Tian replied, “Of course.” She patted the top of her desk, a pair of dimples appearing as she grinned. “Before I left home, I stole dozens of cans of white sugar. My dad can make only three cans a day; this month, he definitely won’t meet the villagers’ orders.”
Ye Tian’s childish pride was plain; after all, whereas her father only lost credibility, she herself sat on the knife’s edge of fate. Any rebellion or resentment she felt was well justified.
Shen Xiaoxiao dragged her chair over to join Ye Tian, and the two of them put their heads together in whispered conversation.
“Your family’s pretty rich, huh?”
Shen Xiaoxiao’s ability wouldn’t come in handy until later; for now, she had little knack for finding clues or analyzing situations. Tossing and turning in bed last night, she’d felt utterly useless—so she approached the day with renewed resolve to help gather information.
She asked Ye Tian, “I noticed your uniform looks really new. Is your family richer than Mingyue’s?”
Ye Tian shook her head. “No, no—Yun Mingyue’s family is the wealthiest by far. I bought five sets of uniforms, but I think she has seven or eight. The moment there’s a snag, she throws one away.”
“But actually, Fanxing owns the most uniforms. Her family isn’t well-off, but her mother can’t bear to launder her clothes, so she bought many sets at once.”
Shen Xiaoxiao again swept her gaze around, landing at last on Wu Mei.
Ye Tian noticed and dropped her voice. “Wu Mei’s family is the worst off. She saved every penny herself for her uniform. Her father’s a drunk—all the money goes to buying liquor, and when he’s drunk, he smashes bottles at home, glass everywhere. Every time, her mom takes her brother and hides, leaving Wu Mei to fend for herself.”
“When Wu Mei’s afraid of being beaten, she runs to other villagers’ homes—mostly hides at Xiahua’s.”
“Xiahua and Fanxing used to be best friends, but now I think Xiahua and Wu Mei are closer… Actually, everyone in our class gets on pretty well!”
“And how about you?” Shen Xiaoxiao added sugar to her drink, shaking her cup as she asked.
“How are things at home?”
Ye Tian fell silent for a moment, then clinked cups with Shen Xiaoxiao, drinking quietly.
It was a long moment before her gentle, sweet voice emerged:
“It’s alright, I suppose.”
“My parents buy whatever I ask for. If I don’t ask, I get nothing. I help out at the shop—every time, my parents say thank you, but I never hear them say thank you to my brother.”
“Never been beaten, never been scolded—never been loved, either.”
“Mingyue’s life is much like mine. Only her trinkets are pricier, but expensive or not, they’re just trinkets, aren’t they?”
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded fervently.
Ye Tian went on, “Xiahua says we need to get out of here, to find a bigger world, or else we’ll be forever trapped by our parents’ meager handouts of love.”
She stared straight at Shen Xiaoxiao. “That’s why we have to escape Taoyuan Village.”
Shen Xiaoxiao, thinking of everyone’s fated deaths, dropped her gaze for a moment before nodding softly. “We will.”
“My sister… My friend said, as long as you wish hard enough, anything can come true.”
*
The first class in the afternoon was sewing, the second poetry.
The sewing teacher left midway for an errand.
Wu Mei instinctively became everyone’s instructor; not a master, perhaps, but years of mending clothes at home had honed her skill.
“Last time, we finished cutting the wedding dress’s panels. Today’s job is to hem the edges.”
She handed out cloth pieces and demonstrated the stitch techniques.
Looking at the bits of fabric in her hand, Jiang Yan realized where the wedding dress under the stairs had come from—
—It was sewn by everyone in class, with their own hands.
No wonder it was lopsided, ugly in a peculiar way.
Each girl finished her own piece, but did not stop; like a relay, each took a turn—sewing for a dozen minutes, then passing the needle and thread along unbroken to the next.
Through several hands, as the sun declined and the evening glow slanted through the classroom windows, the dress returned at last to Xiahua.
She broke the thread and, holding the dress in her hands, passed it to Wu Mei:
“Here. Your birthday is coming up—this is the whole class’s birthday gift to you.”
“You said you liked a boy, though you still won’t tell us who. But we’re set on leaving Taoyuan Village, so snuff out that tiny fire in your heart, and once we’re out, find someone far better, far stronger!”
Wu Mei, half laughing and half crying, accepted the dress.
Xiahua drew a pair of grass rings from her pocket and slipped them into Wu Mei’s sweater.
She whispered, “No complaining—the gift may be light, but the feeling is heavy!”
Then came poetry class.
No one ever misbehaved in this class—no matter how dreary the sky or how loudly their stomachs rumbled, their eyes always shone bright.
When the bell rang for dismissal, everyone lingered together, reluctant to part.
Jiang Yan stood, the lessons unremarkable to these outsiders, and she could barely stifle her sleepiness.
Propped against the door, she listened idly to the gathering girls.
Ye Tian bared her snow-pale wrist and, with meaning, said, “Today’s class had a line that suited me perfectly.”
Wu Mei picked up, “Frost brightens snow-pure wrists?”
Xiahua laughed, calling over Shen Huanhuan and Shen Xiaoxiao, “What are you two showing off? These are the real frost-bright wrists—look, just like poetry.”
Wu Mei eyed the twins for a moment.
Under the spirit’s influence, no one questioned why a village of all dragon-phoenix twins could produce a pair of identical sisters.
After a moment, Wu Mei shook her head.
“That one’s ‘Too coy to care if others guess’.” She pointed at Shen Xiaoxiao.
Then, about Shen Huanhuan: “And that’s ‘White orchids, a delicate fan in hand’.”
Stunned by the praise, Shen Xiaoxiao looked at herself, and Shen Huanhuan seemed briefly lost in thought.
The girls all pressed Wu Mei for more assignments, Mint Candy pulling Lan Lin into the fray. Wu Mei looked over each, recited lines for all, until she turned to Jiang Yan.
Jiang Yan stood at the door, watching the others.
Wu Mei paused, then smiled gently, “Here’s one: ‘A fairy descended from heaven.’”
Jiang Yan raised an eyebrow.
“I like that,” said Xu Xing. “But can’t short-haired girls be fairies too?”
“Of course they can,” Wu Mei replied.
Xiahua asked Wu Mei, “What about the rest of us—all of us together?”
Wu Mei said, “We are ‘Wine and poetry in our fleeting youth’.”
Han Yinghuo shook her head. “Not quite! We can’t drink yet—besides, drinking before butchering pigs leads to accidents!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Wu Mei, thoughtful, finally added in her calm, bright voice: “No matter.”
“However you look at it, these are our best years.”
*
After dinner, the long day came slowly to an end.
Everyone returned to the dorms in small groups. Jiang Yan and the others gathered in Uncle Wang and Zhang Du’s room.
After a day of shadowing classes, everyone felt emotionally tangled.
Lan Lin shared what she’d learned; her childhood was similar to Xu Xing’s, so their bond was close.
“Xu Xing’s brother was born mentally handicapped, while Xu Xing herself showed great academic talent from early on. Her mother blamed everything on her, said she was wicked even in the womb, that she stole all the nutrients meant for her brother—selfish, greedy, and spiteful.”
“And since she couldn’t expect her foolish son to care for her in old age, she raised Xu Xing as a boy. Xu Xing didn’t even know she was a girl until she was eight.”
“But her situation isn’t quite like the spirit’s. Yes, there’s favoritism, gender bias, resentment of a brother, and love for a mother—but Xu Xing’s mother never really loved the son, just the male gender in general. When she treated Xu Xing as a boy, she both hated and loved her, but the love never belonged to Xu Xing as herself, and Xu Xing knows it.”
After Lan Lin finished, Jiang Yan and Shen Xiaoxiao shared what they’d discovered in their own inquiries.
Zhang Du ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
He’d started out hating the spirit behind this energy field, but today found that he couldn’t single out anyone to hate more than the rest—everyone’s suffering seemed unendurable.
Yun Fanxing, frail since childhood, resigned to death.
Wu Mei, always scolded, forced to cook and clean for the family.
Ye Tian and Yun Mingyue, who had nothing but wealth and never felt true affection.
Xu Xing, a genius, with her very identity erased by her own mother’s hand.
“And Han Yinghuo,” Yu Renwan added softly. “I sat with her in sewing. She’d never done such fine work before. Her family’s butcher shop does poorly—only one child can go to school, so her parents let her brother study instead. Han Yinghuo’s up before dawn every day, sharpening knives and slaughtering pigs. She hates the smell of blood, but every time she butchers a pig, she gets covered in it.”
“Not every family here favors boys. Plenty want to keep their daughters from being sacrificed and will do anything to hide them. But Han’s mother… her mother wasn’t chosen but volunteered her instead, all to ‘honor the Cow Immortal’…”
“So, all seven girls match the story from the cattle-rearing class.” Shen Huanhuan summed up.
“Xu Xing experienced favoritism due to gender identity, Yun Fanxing was doted on because she was weak, but when the moment of choosing came, both were abandoned—these seven girls were all given up.”
“No mother dared to resist for their sake. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked, but none even tried, or hesitated.”
Hearing this, Jiang Yan nodded.
“We can’t be sure who the spirit is; there’s no point dwelling on tiny details. Let’s watch for what the next two days bring.”
Just then, Zhang Du spoke.
Everyone turned to look.
He fished a pair of turtle shells from his pocket. “I did a little divination before you came.”
“In two hours, time will accelerate; new key events for Wu Mei and Zhou Xiahua will happen.”
“So when that comes…”
Jiang Yan looked at Lan Lin. Understanding, Lan Lin nodded. “You all stay in your dorms.”
“I’ll go with Jiang Yan.”
That settled, Jiang Yan and Yu Renwan returned to Dorm 508. The rest also stayed in their rooms. Xiahua greeted them cheerfully, then started drawing water for laundry.
Jiang Yan glanced at the wall clock.
[19:00]
Two hours to go. She lay down intending to rest, and to the sound of Xiahua washing in intervals, her thoughts drifted until the droning of cicadas outside roused her.
Jiang Yan opened her eyes slowly.
The clock still said [19:00].
But the date had changed—at least three days had passed since she’d lain down.
She looked around. Yun Fanxing was at the desk copying characters; Yun Mingyue admired herself in a mirror. Zhou Xiahua was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Zhou Xiahua?”
Yun Mingyue glanced sidelong at Jiang Yan. “Wu Mei called her away. Didn’t you hear?”
Jiang Yan: “Sorry, I zoned out from fatigue.”
Yun Mingyue nodded at the door. “Probably in the classroom. Those two are acting weird—looks like they had a spat.”
Jiang Yan answered, “I’ll go out for a walk.”
Leaving the dorm, she met Lan Lin in the hallway; together, they hurried to the second-floor classroom. They hadn’t even reached the door when they overheard voices in dispute.
Though, really, it hardly counted as an argument; Wu Mei’s tone was calm.
“I’m sorry, Xiahua. I didn’t expect this to happen. I didn’t know how to face you, so I left.”
“I’ve thought all day and still can’t accept it, so let’s leave things like this for now.”
She asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about your brother?”
Jiang Yan recalled Fanxing’s words.
Fanxing had said Xiahua’s brother was scum—but from this, clearly, Xiahua had told only her very closest friends.
“Sorry,” Xiahua’s voice was flustered and anxious; she must have realized the truth. “Every time you came, nothing happened. I really didn’t expect it—recently I caught him twice, then he stopped coming around. He wasn’t like this before, I thought he’d changed. And that day, I even made sure to send him away. I just never thought he’d suddenly come back, and…”
Wu Mei cut her off.
Her tone was still composed: “It isn’t your fault.”
“It’s not your fault that your brother is a peeping tom; you don’t need to apologize to me. You’re a victim of his too, so why should you apologize?”
After a pause, Wu Mei continued, “Of course it’s not all on you. Partly, it’s because you and your brother look so much alike—your faces are almost identical. My brother and I look alike, too. These things can’t be helped.”
“I just can’t see your brother’s face behind the bathroom window, feel all the fear and disgust, and still act like everything’s unchanged between us.”
“All day yesterday, I kept recalling the face I glimpsed at the window. I had nightmares. I probably need some time—at least until the nightmares stop.”
Xiahua asked anxiously, “Will that day ever come?”
Wu Mei was silent a long time, then replied in a low voice, “Perhaps. Or perhaps not.”
“Xiahua, let’s not be friends anymore.”
At this, Jiang Yan and Lan Lin ducked behind the storeroom. Soon, the sound of a door closing—the sound of Wu Mei leaving—reached them.
Inside, it sounded like Xiahua threw something, and then broke down in bitter sobs. The crying drifted into the storeroom; Lan Lin’s expression grew complicated.
Jiang Yan lowered her eyes dispassionately.
From her pocket, she pulled two slips of paper, found earlier in the thatched shed—the very first clues she’d come across upon entering the energy field.
[My lungs seem born compressed; I often feel I can’t breathe.]
[He’s appeared behind the bathroom window again. I’m terrified, but no one cares.]
Clearly, “he” was Xiahua’s biological brother.
He had spied on her through the window—twice. She found her living situation suffocating and had told her parents, but no one cared. Their favoritism for the brother was undiminished, no matter what he did.
So long as the gender was right, nothing else mattered.
Minutes later, Xiahua’s sobs ebbed. Through the classroom’s rear window, Jiang Yan saw her stooping to pick up a fallen book.
“I’m sorry.” Xiahua’s voice was soft.
“I saw how much you were hurting. Too much to bear…”
As she tidied up, she mumbled, “When you used to hide at my house, my brother went to your home to argue for you. Were you secretly in love with him?”
“Why did he have to be a disgusting person—why couldn’t he have been good?”
When she finished cleaning up, still sniffling, she carried her trash out.
Once she’d gone, Jiang Yan and Lan Lin entered the classroom. Everything had been tidied with especial care, left perfectly in order.
Lan Lin paused at the spot where Xiahua had cried, closing her eyes.
A moment later, she spoke—a whisper neither of them had heard Xiahua utter:
—“Such hatred.”
*
Back in the dorm, Xiahua’s eyelids were red, but on seeing Jiang Yan, she asked how she was feeling, whether she needed help.
Jiang Yan shook her head.
Xiahua shook out her comforter. “Good, then.”
Jiang Yan asked, “Do you need help with anything?”
Xiahua smoothed her bedding, answering softly, “Let’s all just keep moving forward.”
Her manner was downcast.
After a while, she asked Jiang Yan, “Will you go home over the break?”
Jiang Yan: “No.”
“Neither will Mingyue or Ye Tian. Do you know how to swim? Ask one of them to teach you.”
Yun Mingyue called from her bunk, “Why aren’t you going home, either?”
Yu Renwan raised her hand shyly from the corner. “I… I’m not going home, either.”
“Pity. You can stick close to Ye Tian and me, then.”
With that, Yun Mingyue lay back down.
Jiang Yan lay down as well. If her guess was right, tomorrow when she woke, it would be vacation—and after a few more narrative beats, this story would end.
Before sleep, she asked Xiahua, “Doesn’t time seem to pass quickly these days?”
“How long till the village sacrifice now?”
Xiahua replied quickly, “Forty-two days.”
Jiang Yan made a note.
The next morning, the time did, indeed, leap forward.
Xiahua and Yun Fanxing were already gone from the dorm. The break lasted five days; those made to return home for chores or health all left.
Only Yun Mingyue and Ye Tian remained.
Abandoned daughters had no obligations, never needing to return home.
A small river ran some distance behind the school. After breakfast, Yun Mingyue led the group that way without delay.
Ye Tian explained cheerily,
“This river was dug by villagers. Girls usually swim here; boys have another place nearby, further along.”
“I’ve seen that place—bigger, but the water’s not as nice as here. We’ll stay put.”
No one objected.
Though she was spoiled, Yun Mingyue proved patient as a teacher; even when Shen Xiaoxiao clung so tightly to her for fear of drowning, she never lost her temper.
As the morning passed, Shen Xiaoxiao managed at last to float, if only a little.
Yun Mingyue, amazed at her lack of breath-holding talent, made a few sarcastic remarks. Shen Xiaoxiao wanted to retort, but choked on water, nearly going under.
Flustered, Yun Mingyue lost patience and tossed her onto the bank.
Shen Xiaoxiao: “……….”
Yun Mingyue, standing on the shore, said, “I’m going for a walk—Ye Tian, keep an eye on them.”
She strode off toward the distant river.
Ye Tian called after her, “Mingyue! The villagers say girls shouldn’t go over there!”
Yun Mingyue waved her off. “I think I saw my brother. Want to make him uncomfortable.”
Clearly, she meant to go watch the swimming.
She wandered farther and farther, nearly vanishing from sight; Ye Tian surfaced from the water, “You two rest—I’ll go after Mingyue. The boys in this village are all awful, she’d better not get bullied.”
Shen Huanhuan hastily said, “We’ll go with—”
But before the word “together” left her mouth, Jiang Yan cut her off.
“Go ahead, we’ll wait here,” Jiang Yan said.
Shen Huanhuan fell silent at once.
A moment later, Ye Tian’s figure receded as well. Shen Huanhuan whispered, “Plot point?”
Jiang Yan nodded. “Should be.”
“Let’s follow quietly.”
What had happened could not be changed—they could only observe.
Jiang Yan climbed onto the bank.
She wondered why the spirit had left the timeline here, whether it was to witness a falling out, or an argument with the village boys, but when everyone arrived at the river, it was silent.
Two boys stood on the bank, wrapped in towels, bodies shivering and faces pale.
Yun Mingyue and Ye Tian sat dazed beside the river.
A woman dressed as a shaman crouched beside them, whispering their names in their ears.
“Mingyue—”
In the distance, a group of villagers ran up. A middle-aged woman, resembling Yun Mingyue, came racing over in confusion. “Shaman, what’s going on…”
“They went into this river.”
“It’s troublesome,” the shaman replied. “They’ve been chosen by the Cave God. But the sacrifice list for the Cow Immortal is already set; it cannot be changed. We must offer both of them to the Cow Immortal before the Cave God takes a bride. The Cow Immortal will appease the Cave God’s wrath for us.”
[First of the three great evils of Xiangxi: the Falling-Flower Cave Maiden.]
[Legend holds that any beautiful unmarried woman who approaches a certain cave in Xiangxi becomes the bride of its Cave God—in which case she is called a Falling-Flower Cave Maiden.]
[As a Falling-Flower Cave Maiden, a girl’s face becomes radiant as a peach blossom, her eyes bright as the stars; no matter her temperament, she becomes gentle and composed, dressing, grooming, and cleaning daily to prepare as the Cave God’s bride.]
[There is indeed a cave near the river… Still, with the Cow Immortal here, is there really a Cave God as well?]
[Probably—the Cow Immortal’s cave isn’t the same as the Cave God’s, so the two exist side by side.]
The shaman straightened, giving villagers a stern warning: “Falling-Flower Cave Maidens seldom live more than three weeks.”
“The sacrifice will be moved up. In half a month, all villagers must attend the ceremony.”
As the shaman finished, Yun Mingyue slowly rose.
She had always been outstanding, in both beauty and demeanor—an heiress raised in luxury.
But now, her habitual pride had vanished, as if the Cave God had stolen her soul; gentleness and submission alone remained.
She lifted her right hand, brushing her left cheek with delicate fingers. Before everyone’s eyes, she dropped her gaze, smiled softly, and spun gracefully. The plain uniform on her frame now flowed like a dancer’s skirt, swirling with the breeze.
She looked as though she might flutter away, a butterfly taking flight.
Watching Yun Mingyue twirl, Shen Huanhuan drew a deep breath, as though suppressing emotion.
At last, unable to bear it, she gazed toward the riverbank:
“They’ll never escape Taoyuan Village now.”