Before dawn, Little Bao woke from a restless dream. She rubbed her eyes and saw several villagers push the door open and step inside. Without a word, they wrapped her "sleeping" father in a coarse straw mat.
Her mother was weeping softly. Little Bao climbed out of bed and went to her side. The men carried her father out, stopping at the foot of the hill near the village entrance to dig a pit.
She walked over to the bundle of straw, reached out her small hand, and gave him a push. He didn't stir. Tilting her head back, she looked up at her mother.
"Mother, why won't Father wake up?" she asked.
Her mother could not answer through her tears. A villager replied instead, "Your father is dead."
Little Bao tilted her head. "What does 'dead' mean?"
No one spoke. They lifted her father and lowered him into the hole. Standing beside her mother, Little Bao thought, So being dead means being buried. In a small voice, she asked, "Mother, if we bury Father this deep, how will he get out when he wakes up?"
Her mother suddenly pulled her close and began to sob aloud.
She didn't know how long the crying lasted. When they finally turned back home, Little Bao glanced over her shoulder at the smooth mound of earth, still confused.
Not long after they returned, Granny Yang from the village came by. Sitting on the threshold, she spoke to her mother in low tones.
"In a year of calamity like this, a woman alone with a child and no grain left… how will you survive? With your looks, finding another husband won't be hard. But with a child in tow… it's always a burden."
Little Bao was just past five years old. She could only half understand, but the unease in her chest told her enough. When Granny Yang left, she ran to her mother's side and clutched at her sleeve.
"Mother, please don't give me away. Next year, I'll learn to hunt with the grown-ups. I'll take care of you for the rest of my life!"
Her mother held her tight, tears spilling down like rain.
The strange sickness in the village was growing worse. First came the cough, then the fever, and soon blood appeared in the phlegm. Not long after, the victims were either buried in the ground or burned into a heap of ash.
The village chief gathered everyone together. "This is a calamity from the heavens," he said. "Someone has done something wicked to anger the mountain god."
The villagers, already frightened, believed him. Though their home was not far from the capital of Great Yan, the court had long been too busy to care for them. If they waited for the officials to act, the village would be gone by then.
If there was no help to be found from man, they would turn to the gods.
South of the village rose the South Mountain, where the mountain god's temple stood. Beside it was a strange, bottomless hole. No one who entered had ever returned, and the elders said it connected directly to the underworld.
During the sacrifice to the mountain god, offerings of three animals and five grains would be placed before the altar. Then a boy and a girl—both young and untouched by age—would be thrown into the pit. Only then would the offering be complete.
But no one wanted to give up their child. The crowd stood silent until the village chief said, "Whoever's child is chosen will receive a tael of silver."
Little Bao stood in the middle of the gathering, holding her mother's hand. She had no idea what the meeting was for. A boy with a stick tried to play with her, and she hid behind her mother, laughing as they played a little game of hide-and-seek.
Later, her mother brought her home. For a long time, she simply stared at her daughter before dressing her in new clothes, combing her hair, and tying it with a bright red ribbon.
Little Bao burrowed into her arms. "Mother, when I grow up, I'll be good to you for the rest of my life."
Her mother's tears fell into her hair, cold as ice.
The door crashed open. The village chief entered with several men. They tore Little Bao from her mother's arms and slung her over a shoulder. The world flipped upside down.
She kicked and thrashed. "Mother! Mother!"
The woman covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling.
"You lied to me! I hate you!" Little Bao cried, wriggling in the man's grip.
Her mother sobbed harder. The man carrying her struck her on the head. "Be still!"
The pain made her cry harder. "Mother… if Father were still alive, he wouldn't trade me for a tael of silver, would he?"
Her mother clutched her head and wept as if her heart would break.
Little Bao said no more after that. She thought to herself that death was not a good thing at all. When someone died, they were gone—gone forever.
Little Bao twisted and writhed with all her strength, but it was as feeble as a rabbit kicking against a snare. Several villagers bound her tightly with rope, stuffed a rag into her mouth, and lifted her in a bamboo basket.
In another basket, a boy from the same village was also tied up, his body twisted like a knotted rope.
"Mmm—" Little Bao tried to speak to him through the gag, but he only cried, eyes fixed on the ground, never looking at her.
In the mountain god's temple, the village chief and several elders muttered in low tones. At times they knelt and bowed, at times they murmured prayers.
Then, without warning, someone hoisted the baskets. Little Bao's vision went black. Before she could scream, she was tipped into the gaping mouth of the mountain's bottomless hole.
They tumbled downward. The boy ahead of her struggled desperately, though the gag smothered his cries. Little Bao spat the rag from her mouth and bent down, biting frantically at the rope between his hands.
Something cold was moving inside his body.
"Hey… what's in there?" she asked in her child's voice.
The boy gave no answer. At first his body jerked and twitched violently, but then it grew still.
Blood filled her mouth before she finally chewed through the rope. Satisfied, she nudged him. "Hey, you can move now!"
But the boy didn't move. From the collar of his shirt, a head emerged—striped and colorful, a forked tongue flickering in and out.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream. In the suffocating darkness, she saw them—those cold, slick things—sliding inside him. They hollowed him out completely.