Silkworm Woman

Chapter 1

[1]

If there were a piece of clothing that could make you the person who got the highest score on SAT effortlessly, would you wear it?

My mother is a legendary figure known for producing magical silk. The clothes made from this silk can transform even the most unremarkable person into the top student.

Because of this, our village became famously known as Genius Village. However, no one noticed that the children's eyes gradually lost their sparkle and they became listless.

[2]

1. Our village is nestled deep in the mountains, a journey requiring at least three hours of trekking from town. Despite these humble beginnings, we've recently gained a reputation for producing academic geniuses, earning the nickname Genius Village.

This year, the village leader's son, Ian, achieved the highest score in the entire state for the science section of the college entrance exam. When the TV station arrived to interview our top-scoring village, I was in the cellar feeding my mother.

The cellar was filled with the smell of freshly picked mulberry leaves, still glistening with morning dew. My mother lay on a pile of straw, eyes closed, mouth open, chewing with a serene rhythm. Her actions and appearance were unsettlingly similar to that of a silkworm.

Up above, I could hear the reporter's admiring voice, "Your village is extraordinary. Last year, both the top scorers in the county's college entrance exams came from here, and this year, you've produced the state's top science scorer. Truly remarkable!"

The village leader, basking in the attention, boasted, "You have no idea. My son Ian has been remarkably intelligent from a very young age. He excelled in everything he did. Becoming the state's top scorer was actually an underachievement for him. If he took that test again, he would surely be the top scorer in the nation."

I glanced at the simple-minded person beside me, who was picking his nose, and sighed helplessly. "Your grandpa sure knows how to brag," I muttered.

The simple-minded person didn't grasp my words and just smiled foolishly at me.

Everyone in the village knew the truth about Ian. He had developmental delays: he couldn't walk until he was three years old, didn't speak until he was six, and only learned to feed himself the previous year.

The reporter, confused, asked, "So why didn't you send Ian to study in a big city earlier? There are far better educational resources there."

The village leader coughed, signaling my dad, who immediately took on a somber tone. "We don't have many resources here. Once the kids are old enough, they need to help out at home. There's not much time for studying."

The reporter wasn't satisfied and pressed further, "A couple of years ago, didn't you plan to build a road? With a proper cement road, the kids could go out to study, and it would be more convenient for everyone. Why hasn't there been any progress?"

I knew the answer to that. A couple of years ago, there had indeed been plans to build a road. The county had even allocated funds. But on the day before construction was to begin, there was a massive argument between my father and the village leader.

My father, who had always been respectful to the village leader, shocked everyone by grabbing him by the collar and saying, "If the road is built and people discover this secret, your grandson Ian won't be able to take the college entrance exam in two years."

All these measures were to prevent others from discovering my mother's existence.

My mother was the most unique person in the village. She was a "silkworm woman" who could produce magical silk.

For as long as I could remember, my mother had lived in the cellar like a silkworm, needing to eat fresh mulberry leaves every day. By spring, she would produce a batch of silk, which my father would make into clothes and sell.

Those clothes had an amazing effect: they made the wearer incredibly smart.

Moreover, the clothes my mother produced each year were progressively more effective. This year, the clothes had transformed simple-minded Ian into the state's top scorer.

Faced with the reporter's persistent questioning, my dad carefully replied, "Our village kids have always been known for their hard work and resilience. Building a road would spoil them."

Though this answer seemed dubious, the reporter didn't probe further and instead asked about Ian's whereabouts. "Why isn't the top scorer at home today?"

The village leader vaguely responded that Ian had gone to the neighboring village to visit his grandparents, attempting to dismiss the reporter.

I couldn't help but chuckle. They crafted stories so easily. Ian didn't have any grandparents; he only had a mother who had been living in a tragically abusive situation. His father had beaten her to death a few years ago and had later died in a fall.

The reporter remained insistent. "Last year, we didn't get to meet the county's top scorer, and this year it's the state's top scorer. We must meet him this time!"

Chapter 2

[1]

1. The village leader's voice carried a hint of irritation: "I told you, Ian isn't home. Please leave."

2. Mom had already finished her meal. As I tidied up the straw bedding, I realized the chalk was missing.

3. So, I asked Ian, "Ian, could you bring me some more chalk pieces next time you're back from school?"

4. Ian looked at me and nodded with a playful grin.

5. I climbed up to the loft with the empty basket. The upper area is where we kept the farming tools. After placing the basket properly, I carefully covered the wooden planks one by one.

6. When I went to the living room to check on the village leader and Dad, they were already greeting the reporters warmly with firm handshakes.

7. Dad caught sight of me from the corner of his eye and waved me over.

8. "This is my daughter. She'll show you to your rooms."

[2]

Very soon, I arrived at the newly built village council building, the only concrete structure in the village, meant to receive guests.

The building had only two rooms: the village leader's office and a storage room.

I told the reporter, "Wait here. Someone will bring you a blanket and some food tonight. The village leader's house is just ahead, a few minutes' walk from here."

The reporter handed me a piece of candy and gently asked, "My name is Wilson. What's your name, kid?"

His smile strangely reminded me of my mother hidden in the cellar.

"My name is Rita," I replied, and then, as if possessed, I added, "My mom used to call me Sara."

His smile froze, and he asked, "Why haven't I seen your mother today?"

I stiffened. My father had warned me long ago never to reveal my mother's existence to anyone, or he would cripple me and force me to marry the old widower from the next village.

The thought of that old man's lecherous eyes and yellow teeth made me shiver.

The only people who knew about my mother's existence were me, him, the village leader, and the village leader's simple-minded grandson.

I quickly waved my hand and said, "My mom died shortly after giving birth to me."

He stared thoughtfully at me for a while, and I felt his gaze was odd, almost as if he could see through me.

Feeling uneasy, I waved my hand, told him I had to go, and ran home without looking back.

When I got home, the village leader and my dad were discussing how to keep Ian from revealing anything.

"How about we wait until Ian is asleep and then take a few photos?" my dad suggested.

"No way," the village leader replied, distressed. "What if he wakes up and someone finds out the truth about Ian? It's not possible."

The village leader was getting anxious. "Then what do you suggest? The businessman will be here in a couple of days. If we don't find a way to handle this reporter, we'll be discovered, and we won't get a dime."

My dad grew furious. "It's all your fault. You agreed to it for that million dollars. With the silkworm woman, you could make millions over your lifetime."

The village leader spat on the ground. "How many years do I have left? I need to save more money for Ian to get a wife. Who will look after my grandson when I'm gone?"

After saying that, the village leader didn't forget to mock my dad. "If you had a son, he might be even more capable than mine..."

My dad slammed the table in anger, but the next second, the village leader splashed a cup of tea on him. "How dare you bang the table at me? Don't forget who always covers for you. Think it over. I need a solution by tomorrow."

The village leader paused. "If it really doesn't work, we'll get rid of him and claim he fell to his death coming down the mountain..."

After saying that, he picked up his cane and slowly walked out.

Once the village leader was completely out of sight, my dad shouted at me.

"You worthless girl, get over here!"

Chapter 3

[1]

I was so terrified that my legs were trembling, but I had to get to him quickly. If I waited for him to come to me, the beating would be even worse.

As soon as I appeared in front of him, he struck my arm with a wooden stick, making a sharp "crack" sound. My entire left arm went numb instantly, followed by a burning pain a few secon