The night was black as ink, and the wails in Graymist Village gradually died away.
In an earthen hut at the eastern end of the village, Tumo fumbled under the glow of an oil lamp, trying to pour a dark herbal brew into his son's mouth.
"Cough, cough... pfft!" The child's complexion was no longer as frightening as it had been that afternoon, but he still could not keep anything down.
"It's useless! Tumo, this stuff is useless!" Watching her husband's clumsy efforts, Anna could barely contain her anger.
"Didn't you hear? The York Family went quiet just after dark. They must have gone to see the lord!"
Tumo recoiled in fright. "Shut up!"
He glanced nervously outside, then shut the door tightly and lowered his voice. "Oh, stop getting ideas! Let's try the herbs again. This recipe was handed down by our ancestors. My father said it worked wonders!"
Anna snatched the chipped bowl from Tumo's hands and smashed it against the floor with a sharp clatter.
"Bah! Don't bring up your father! He died in his forties. What good is his saying it worked?"
Then she pointed at the child moaning on the straw mat, her tears spilling over. "Tell me what we're supposed to do! Our son throws up everything he drinks. How many more days can he wait for you?"
"And that old village chief! Fine, none of us knew any better before, but now the lord has proved the water's poisonous, and he's still clinging to that 'Swamp Spirit'! No wonder his son died young!"
The more Anna spoke, the angrier she became, until she grabbed her husband's collar.
"I don't care about our ancestors! Our ancestors are dead, but my son is still alive! Tumo, if you're still worrying about your precious pride today, you can collect both our bodies tomorrow!"
The collar tightened around Tumo's neck until his veins bulged. He looked at his son again, and the hesitation on his face finally melted away.
He had treasured his reputation all his life, the strapping young man his neighbors called the most "proper" of them all. But now, against his son's life, none of it meant a damn thing.
He gritted his teeth. "We'll go. For our boy, we'll go!"
But then the shrewdness peculiar to farmers appeared on his face. "Wait... we need a plan. Wrap the boy up, and we'll slip out the back door. We'll say... we're going into the woods to gather clear dew grass. Yes, clear dew grass!"
The more he spoke, the more brilliant the idea seemed. "Once he's better, if anyone asks, we'll say it was all thanks to clear dew grass! Nothing to do with the lord! We save his life and save face. Perfect!"
Anna looked at her husband. She had no time now to scorn his petty scheming, so she nodded distractedly and deftly wrapped the child in ragged cloth.
Like a pair of thieves, husband and wife hugged the walls and stumbled through the dark toward the only lit tent at the village entrance.
Tumo rehearsed his excuse several more times before finally summoning the courage to lift the tent flap cautiously.
Then he froze, before immediately turning to leave.
Anna could not see what was inside. Infuriated by her husband's cowardice, she kicked him into the tent.
The gust stirred up by Tumo's fall swept the flap aside. Warm candlelight spilled out, revealing one familiar face after another inside.
Their neighbor John, Lina the widow from the western end of the village, Dark the hunter... every family in the village with children was there.
At the family's conspicuous entrance, Veylin did not even raise his eyelids. He merely gestured toward a corner with his chin.
"You're here? Everyone's been waiting for you. Find somewhere to squat and wait your turn."
His tone was as casual as if he had said, "Lovely weather today."
The spacious tent was decidedly overcrowded with more than a hundred people packed inside. They stood or squatted, all holding sickly children in their arms. The air was filled with the smell of herbs and... an awkwardness that refused to dissipate.
They looked at one another without a word, each knowing exactly why the others were there.
Silence... silence was Graymist Village tonight.
Veylin sat beside the fire, leisurely stirring the embers with a small stick. A crucible stood before him, filled with bubbling green liquid that gave off a faint, fresh fragrance.
After a little more waiting, the medicine was ready. Xiao Lan hurried to hand it out, patiently explaining to each person, "The lord said this is a medicine made from carbon ash and sourleaf herb. The charcoal absorbs the poison, and the acidic liquid neutralizes it. Drink it while it's hot."
With Xiao Lan's attentive help, the treatment went smoothly.
Within a quarter of an hour, the medicine began to take effect.
The frequent coughing subsided into faint wheezing. Color gradually returned to the children's purplish faces, and their convulsing bodies slowly grew still.
The son in Tumo's arms slowly woke. Though weak, he could open his eyes now, and called out "Papa" in a hoarse voice.
Tears instantly streamed down Tumo's face.
Why was it so hard just to live in peace?
That night, the villagers of Graymist Village tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
The next morning, when Veylin stood in the center of the village once more, he was no longer met with hostility and suspicion.
"If you want to live, if you want your children to live, come with me to your new home today." Veylin's voice was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.
After a stretch of silence, Tumo, holding his son who could already walk again, was the first to step quietly behind Veylin.
With someone leading the way, the crowd no longer hesitated. One, then two... drops became a stream, and more than eighty percent of the villagers made their choice through action.
With their families in tow and their meager belongings on their backs, they gathered into a silent, resolute torrent.
Old Walker stood where he was, looking at the scattered handful of families behind him, his clouded eyes full of bewilderment.
It had only been one night. What had happened to everyone? Had the lord cast a spell?
Veylin looked at him, waiting for his final answer.
Old Walker's hunched back sagged completely. He raised his head, and his clouded eyes held no hostility now, only pleading.
"Is... is everything you said... true? Can the children... really... survive?"
Veylin's gaze was solemn. "I promise that before the first rain falls, everyone will have a new house that shelters them from the wind and rain."
"You don't have to believe me." Veylin turned and headed toward the road out of the village. "But you'd better come and see."
The great procession set off.
At the rear of the procession, Xiao Lan followed the crowd, weighed down by her thoughts, not even thinking to wipe the sweat from her forehead.
She dared not look at the children who were still somewhat weak. Whenever their laughter reached her, it felt as though a needle had pierced her heart.
Four days earlier, in the lord's tent.
"Boil these, mash them, and after dark, dump everything, liquid and all, into that temporary pond they dug."
Xiao Lan took the sprouted potatoes her master handed her.
"Remember, make sure no one sees you."
Xiao Lan said timidly, "Master, but I... I don't dare."
Veylin considered for a moment, recalling the amusing misconceptions about nobles that Lilia had told him Xiao Lan held...
"Xiao Lan, you know me. I don't need a disobedient maid. If you can't carry out the task I've given you..."
Veylin looked troubled. "Then I'll have no choice but to give you to my cousin Leonard. I hear he keeps some goblins. He's always asking me for disobedient maids..."
Xiao Lan's eyes instantly misted over.
Who was Leonard? Why was he such a pervert?
In the end, Xiao Lan gave in, and the secret became deeply embedded in her heart.
Everyone knew potato sprouts were poisonous, even if the poison was mild, even if it was all for the villagers' own good.
But ultimately, this was the first time she had... harmed people with her own hands.
A gray-white haze veiled her eyes.
Xiao Lan wasn't clean anymore, she thought.