Minnow's tone was calm, as if he were talking about an old rule that had been used for so long no one thought to question it anymore.
"They say it's a regular inspection."
As he spoke, Minnow lowered his head and rolled up his sleeve.
On his exposed arm were old needle marks.
They were lined up neatly, almost carefully.
"They say it's to prevent disease."
"Blood… disease?" Wei frowned.
"Yes," Minnow nodded."They say the terrible creatures outside can contaminate our blood. That if we're not careful, we'll slowly turn into demons."
The wind slipped through the gaps in the wooden planks, carrying a sharp chill with it.
Strips of cloth hanging from the beams rubbed softly against each other, making a low, faint sound.
It wasn't hurried.
It sounded patient.
As if it were waiting for someone to finish speaking.
Wei's body still remembered life in the forest.
Sleeping at night against tree roots.
Hiding during the day in patches of shadow.
Those days had been hard, but there had been fire.
There had been water.
There had been wind moving through leaves, and the sound of people breathing nearby.
Was this really about protecting them from tigers, leopards, venomous snakes?
Those creatures usually only attacked in self-defense.
And maybe here, when hunger grew too strong, even beasts would come down to bite people.
"The terrible creatures you're talking about…" Wei asked slowly.
"Are they wild animals?"
Minnow looked up at him.
His eyes were bright, but there was no light in them.
After a moment, he shook his head.
He didn't say anything.
"You've never seen them?" Wei pressed.
Minnow hunched his shoulders slightly, as if the wind had brushed against him.
"No," he said.
"We haven't seen them."
He paused.
"But we've seen what it looks like…
after the blood is contaminated."
"What does it look like?"
Minnow didn't answer.
Instead, he lifted his hand and motioned.
He led Wei toward the corner by the wooden railing.
The gaps there were wider.
Wide enough for someone to see the truth, all of it, in one look.
A pitch-black boy was hanging from a flagpole outside.
To be precise, it no longer looked like a living person.
It was a boy who had been dried out by wind and time, his skin pulled tight against bone, his limbs stiff and unnaturally long. Under the dull gray sky, the body swayed gently with the breeze.
The flagpole creaked.
The corpse rocked back and forth in the air, like a forgotten banner, torn and left behind.
The next morning, someone came walking outside the wooden shed.
The footsteps were unhurried, but uneven—light, then heavy—each step landing as if it were pressed directly onto Wei's chest.
Wei tilted his head to listen, his fingers tightening unconsciously around the fabric of his trousers.
He couldn't see the figure.
Wind crept in through the cracks in the boards, cold against his face.
After an unknown stretch of time, a low cough broke the silence.
It was followed by the thick sound of phlegm dragged up from deep in the chest, as if someone were forcing their own body to surface, one breath at a time.
Wei instinctively glanced at Minnow.
Minnow had his head lowered, his hands absentmindedly twisting a few strands of dry straw. The faint rustling sound was small and repetitive, like time being ground down slowly, grain by grain.
His brows tightened almost imperceptibly, as though a terrible memory had brushed past him.
"This time… it's Iron-Throat."
The words fell softly, but they carried a weight that pressed the air flat.
Wei looked toward the door with cautious curiosity.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The rattan rod struck hard against the door from outside.
It wasn't knocking.
It was calling names.
The door creaked open.
One foot stepped inside first.
It wore an old leather boot with a broken strap, the toe hardened like iron. Every step it took hit the floor with a loud clang. The other foot was bare, wrapped loosely in a strip of filthy cloth, dragging slightly with each step.
The man flicked the rattan rod in his hand, as casually as if he were shaking off a dead fish. Dark, dried patches clung to it—blood, or something else.
His cough followed him in.
Deep.
Long.
As if there were an ancient stone lodged in his chest.
Every time he coughed, it felt like he might collapse in the next second.
But every time, he steadied himself again.
"Did you miss me?" he asked.
Several boys took a step back.
Slowly.
Obediently.
Minnow, however, continued playing with the straw.
Wei sat in the shadows, watching this man's entrance with a quiet, unsettled curiosity.
Iron-Throat's bare foot stopped in front of Minnow.
His toes were caked with mud. Veins bulged across the top of his foot like half-dead worms.
His hand lifted instinctively, reaching toward Minnow's face.
Only then did Minnow seem to notice him. He stood up quickly, shifting just enough to avoid the filthy hand without making it obvious.
Iron-Throat smacked his lips.
"You," he said."Still stubborn as ever. That'll get you hurt someday."
His eyelids drooped halfway. His voice was rough, like sandpaper dragged across stone.
Then he tilted his head and looked at Wei.
"New one, huh? Came from the forest?"
Wei swallowed.
Before he could get a word out, the rattan rod cracked down on his shoulder—
Sharp sound.
Sharp pain.
"I told you to stand up!" Iron-Throat roared.
"Are you deaf?"
Wei grunted and stood.
When he straightened fully, his body rose like a young pine—straight, silent. He was half a head taller than Iron-Throat.
Iron-Throat froze for a split second, as if he'd suddenly realized how close he was standing.
He took half a step back.
The rod didn't come down again.
"Fine," he said at last.
"Tomorrow. You two."
His gaze swept between Wei and Minnow.
"Blood inspection."