Chapter 3: Avalanche, Wailing Shadows

As the chicken soup was brought in, the air was instantly filled with an enticing aroma.

Gulp, gulp, gulp.
Gurgle...

The three little ones clutched their sunken bellies, swallowing their saliva instinctively, their eyes turning green with hunger. Chicken soup! Chicken meat! It had been such a long, long, long time since they had tasted meat.

Even so, none of the three dared to clamor for a bowl or a piece of chicken. They simply stood to the side, staring longingly at that coarse ceramic bowl, their behavior so sensible it made one’s heart ache.

Seeing this, He Daxiang hurriedly ushered the three children outside, worried that if the eldest daughter-in-law saw their famished expressions, she wouldn’t be able to swallow her own food.

Old Mother Su took the baby, Yaobao, suppressing her heartache as she avoided looking at the three children. It was too painful to watch. But what could she do? The family was penniless, and such was their reality. Both the palms and the backs of one’s hands were made of flesh; she could only prioritize the most urgent needs.

Yaobao was hungry, too. Even if she didn't consciously want to eat, her tiny body and brain seemed disconnected, acting on instinct. As the spoon reached her lips, she couldn't wait, opening her mouth and sucking greedily.

The rice soup was the perfect temperature—neither cold nor scalding. As it hit her stomach, a warmth spread through her tiny frame. She smacked her lips, catching the faint scent of rice. Yaobao sucked even more happily.

"She looks quiet enough, but she eats like a starving tiger," Old Mother Su chuckled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothing out. "Eat slowly, no one is going to snatch it from you."

Yaobao kept her eyes closed, focused on sucking. It wasn't that she wanted to eat; it was her mouth that demanded it.

The old woman sat on the edge of the wooden bed to feed the baby. The room was tiny, barely the size of a palm, with simple furnishings: a wooden table by the head of the bed, a low cabinet for clothes in the corner, and not even enough stools for everyone to sit.

Su Da and his wife watched their daughter eat, the room silent save for the sound of the baby slurping the rice soup.

"What are you staring for? I’ve raised several children; do you think I can't feed Yaobao? Drink your chicken soup quickly. The baby will need milk soon, and it’ll get cold if you let it sit." Old Mother Su shot them a sharp look. "Eat and drink as you should. There’s no need to save any for anyone else. The little ones outside are already several years old; they won't fight their little sister for this bit of food. If you feel bad for them, you can make it up to them later. Life is long."

"Yaobao needs to grow, too."

Having her thoughts exposed by her mother-in-law, Liu Yuelan felt her face flush with heat. She dared not say more and took the bowl from her husband, beginning to drink.

The coarse ceramic bowl, roughly the size of two adult palms, was filled to the brim with chicken soup. Beads of oil floated on the surface, and the bottom was packed with chicken meat. For a family that rarely saw meat, this bowl was a rare delicacy.

Liu Yuelan had seen the three children swallowing their saliva earlier, and she had indeed wanted to save some meat to satisfy their cravings later.

But her mother-in-law was right: Yaobao needed to grow, too. It was hard enough for a poor family to survive the winter, and with Yaobao born at such a time, if the milk supply failed, how could such a tiny infant endure this long, frigid winter?

"Eat," Su Da said softly to his wife, standing to the side. "Once winter passes and spring arrives, I’ll head into the mountains a few more times. I’ll make sure to bring back meat for the children and the family."

"Mm," Liu Yuelan replied softly, her eyes welling up with tears that she fought to hold back. She would remember her mother-in-law’s kindness and the warmth of their family well.

Yaobao was eating with gusto, but her ears couldn't be closed, and she was forced to listen to the adults' conversation. She gathered one piece of information: this family was very poor—poorer even than her previous family—so poor they couldn't even afford meat. Yet, they were different; here, they yielded to one another when eating, without fighting. And "Grandma" said that Yaobao needed to grow. She was Yaobao.

A newborn who has eaten her fill must sleep. Yaobao let out a hiccup that smelled of rice, followed by a yawn. As she drifted into a hazy sleep, she could still hear the lively movements outside the window.

"Second brother, reinforce those pillars over there. With this much snow, it won't stop anytime soon. Don't let the weight collapse the roof."

"The three of you, the courtyard snow is your job. Once it's swept clean, we'll eat."

"Mom, what are we having tonight?"

"Sweet potato porridge! And we’ll roast a big white radish for you!"

"Great, I love radish! Leave the chicken soup for Big Sister; she needs to feed the baby."

...

Yaobao's eyelids slowly drooped, and she fell asleep. She woke up groggily a couple of times, instinctively sucking whenever something warm and soft was placed in her mouth, before drifting back to sleep.

...

The next time she fully awoke, it was due to a sudden, biting cold.

The reflexive consciousness formed in her past life—back when she was dragged from her bed in the lab in the middle of the night for needles and bone marrow extractions—made Yaobao snap her eyes open. She felt the world shaking violently, followed immediately by a roar that crashed against her eardrums like the collapse of heaven and earth.

"Avalanche! Run!"
"Where are Mom and Dad? Did they get out?"
"They’re out! Don't talk, just run!"

The surroundings were filled with chaotic sounds—roars and cries of terror.

By late evening, the entire Great Locust Village was a scene of devastation. Yaobao was clutched in the young woman’s arms; as they fled the house, she hadn't forgotten to grab a small quilt to wrap the baby tightly. Even so, the newborn, exposed to the elements, turned pale from the bitter winter cold.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. Yaobao, don't be afraid, Mother is here." Liu Yuelan held her daughter tight, her voice trembling as she tried to soothe her, though she herself was still in shock.

The whole family had run out of the house and stood in the open field, their hearts still pounding. Others were running out one after another; the scene was chaotic and suffocating.

Old Mother Su counted the heads. With everyone accounted for, she finally let out a long, shuddering breath. She took the thin quilt she had grabbed in her own rush and draped it over Liu Yuelan. Her pale lips trembled, and her eyes were red-rimmed. After a long moment, she managed to choke out two words: "Wrap her."

Liu Yuelan was young; those two words were enough to force out the tears she had been holding back. "Mom..."

"That's enough, what are you crying for? Tears will only weaken you, hold them back! Everyone is alive; that is the greatest blessing."

The rest of the Su family fell silent. No one had the heart or the strength to speak. Su Da and his brother, along with their wives, each held one of the three children, all staring at the snow-capped mountain behind the village.

The mountain was tall, its peak covered in eternal snow. When it collapsed, it felt like the end of the world. Fortunately, the avalanche had headed in a different direction. Although Great Locust Village was affected, the damage was minimal. Most of the villagers had managed to escape with no casualties; only a few decrepit, old houses had partially collapsed in the tremors.

Old Man Su also stared toward the avalanche, silent for a long time before speaking in a hoarse voice, "That side is Xu Village... I fear an entire village..."

Death was right before their eyes. The delayed terror of their narrow escape began to surface, and the weeping around them grew louder and more sorrowful.

Yaobao’s vision wasn't yet clear, but she heard the cries erupting all around her, her heart as calm as water. She lacked the capacity for empathy; she only knew that when people died, others cried, and people cried because they were sad or in pain. But what "sadness" or "grief" truly meant, she didn't know, nor could she feel it.

Yaobao lay there quietly, her eyes holding a calm, cold indifference that no one else could see. Those who didn't want to die had died, while she, who wanted to die, was nothing more than a nursing infant who could only lie there and eat.

She couldn't even die if she wanted to.

The world was truly strange.