Snow Silkworm Town

Early October, intestines strung with snow,
End of the twelfth lunar month, snow willow hangs like icy curtains.

“Special snow sausages of Snow Silkworm Town! Come try them!”

The peddler's shout at the town entrance cut through the blizzard, sounding strangely lively. Yet its final sound seemed frozen stiff, carrying an unshakable dullness, drifting lightly in the cold wind without the slightest trace of life.

As soon as two figures stepped into the town, all the pedestrians on the street froze in unison. Countless eyes locked onto the pair at once. The surroundings fell into an unnatural silence, even the sound of snow and wind fading away.

A young man dressed like a student walked calmly ahead, tightly holding the woman behind him by the hand. He lowered his head and breathed warm air onto her cold fingertips. The woman stood straight, her demeanor cold and calm, her eyes carrying a faint, unnoticeable wariness.

The sausage vendor forced a stiff smile and called out warmly, “Young man, get your girlfriend a hot sausage? It’ll warm her right up!”

Youran lifted his eyes gently and turned to the woman beside him. “Chang Ni, I’ll go buy something warm to heat you up.”

He was about to step forward when Chang Ni suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a run without hesitation.

“Hurry. I don’t want any. We’ll miss the bus!”

The two ran wildly after the slowly departing public bus, facing the heavy snow. Only when the outline of Snow Silkworm Town vanished completely from sight did they bend over, gasping for breath. Youran’s cheeks were red from running. He was about to complain when Chang Ni looked at him and let out a low laugh—though there was no warmth in her eyes. The strange incident passed just like that.

The sky turned completely dark. Heavy snow fell thick and fast, the cold piercing to the bone. After a long walk, the two finally stood before the gate of Snow Silkworm Town Orphanage just before the last ray of light disappeared.

“Early October, intestines strung with snow,
End of the twelfth lunar month, snow willow hangs like icy curtains.
Orphan souls, unchanging for all eternity,
First day of the year, joy welcomes new life.”

A creepy nursery rhyme drifted softly from deep inside the main hall. The children’s voices were thin and sharp like needles, stabbing through the silent cold, making one’s scalp tingle. A group of children formed a circle, their movements stiff like puppets on strings, swaying in unison. In the middle of the circle crouched a little girl, all alone.

She wore a dazzling white dress, hugging her knees tightly, head lowered, motionless. Her thin figure stood in the cold wind like a delicate doll frozen in ice, without any sign of life.

The director lifted the cloth curtain and stepped out quickly, wearing a rigid, standard smile. She spoke calmly and led the two inside, inviting them to sit by the crackling fireplace.

“This place used to be an abandoned old Western church. After the Holy See declined, it was bought by a wealthy Eastern merchant. After several changes of ownership, it became the orphanage you see today.”

The fire flickered on and off, orange flames dancing, twisting the shadows all over the room. Even the figures of everyone present looked hazy.

“Is the girl in the middle being left out by the others?” Youran chuckled, speaking half-jokingly, trying to break the oppressive atmosphere.

“There’s no such thing as being left out.” The director waved her hand quickly, replying in a hurried tone. “They’re sending blessings to a friend who’s leaving. That child is Ziye—the one you’ve chosen to adopt.”

“Oh? Her?” Chang Ni’s lips curved into a faint smile. Her gaze fell on the small white figure.

“I really don’t know why you picked her. This child is different from the others. She’s never likable. Not a good kid,” the director muttered quietly, full of dislike.

“Exactly because of that, she needs care more. Besides, hasn’t she already received her friends’ blessings?” Chang Ni interrupted calmly, took Youran’s hand, and walked straight toward the center of the hall.

The children, who had been completely silent just moments ago, were now gathered together, playing noisily. Yet their laughter still carried an indescribable stiffness.

Night grew deeper. The director clapped her hands softly, and the children fell silent at once. They neatly brought thin blankets and spread them on the floor in the middle of the hall. Everyone lay down in a circle. Ziye quietly slipped into the very center, pulled her small blanket up to her shoulders, closed her eyes obediently. She looked as gentle and well-behaved as any other child.

From start to finish, she did not glance toward Chang Ni and Youran even once, nor showed any sign of closeness. It was as if she faced two complete strangers, her eyes completely calm.

“The children are all asleep. Today is your last night together. By the orphanage’s rules, the two of you will keep watch over Ziye tonight.” The director smiled, then led them toward the corridor on the second floor. “You two will stay in the guest room tonight. Rest well. You may leave tomorrow morning.”

Chang Ni nodded slightly. Her gaze swept calmly over the sleeping children, pausing briefly on Ziye in the center, then moved away quickly, showing no unusual reaction. Youran followed closely. The two said nothing, walking into the guest room behind the director.

The door closed softly, cutting off the atmosphere inside the hall.

In the main hall, the children’s breathing was slow and even, as if deep in sleep. Night was pitch-black, wrapping the entire orphanage. Ziye lay still with her eyes closed, just like countless ordinary nights, showing nothing out of the ordinary.

Nearing midnight, Chang Ni climbed quietly out of bed, gently opened the door, and stood at the top of the second-floor stairs, silently staring down at the living room below.

Ziye, who should have been asleep, was somehow crouching next to a jack-o’-lantern. The red candle inside had melted halfway. Its flame flickered, twisting the carved mouth of the lantern until it looked ferocious—like a starving, drooling monster, as if it would swallow the little girl in front of it in one bite.

The midnight bell rang on time, echoing through the silent orphanage.

Just as the shadow of the jack-o’-lantern was about to wrap around Ziye, she shot to her feet. Without hesitation, she lifted her foot and kicked the lantern hard into the fireplace beside her.

“Screech—ah!”

A sharp, horrifying scream burst from the lantern. The sound was piercing, making one’s skin crawl. Yet the children around them seemed to hear nothing, still sleeping soundly, not even frowning.

Ziye ran quickly. Before the twelfth bell tolled, she took all the red candles from every jack-o’-lantern in the yard and clutched them in her hand. As the last bell rang, she threw all the candles into the fire