Chapter 003: A Bowl of Pheasant Blood
When I turned three, a severe drought had gripped the region. On my third birthday, most of the village adults, including my family, were out irrigating the fields. I was left alone at home with a bowl of pheasant blood, meant to be my meal if I got hungry.
Despite being just three years old, I was more perceptive and obedient than most children my age. For three years, I had no playmates. Other children avoided me because their parents forbade them, claiming I was a born freak. The entire village knew I didn't eat regular food, only drank blood, and that foxes and weasels visited our house every night, delivering offerings. People treated me like a curse.
That day, as I was playing alone in the courtyard, I suddenly heard the cheerful voices of children outside the yard. Curiosity got the better of me. Over the years, I had rarely left home since the villagers avoided me at all costs. Yet, I longed for a companion—a single word from another child would have made my day.
I ran to the gate and peeked through the cracks. A small sand dune stood just outside, where four or five kids were playing with sand, laughing and chatting. I couldn't resist. Without thinking much, I bolted towards them, hoping to join in.
However, the moment one of the kids saw me, his face filled with terror. The oldest child among them pointed at me and shouted, "The freak is here! The blood-drinking freak is here! Anyone who talks to him will have bad luck!"
At his shout, the children scattered like startled birds, leaving me standing there, heartbroken. They ran so quickly that they abandoned their toys. Though I was sad, I tried to console myself. If they were gone, I could play by myself.
I picked up their sand toys and started building a sandcastle. Suddenly, a voice came from the other side of the dune: "Can I play with you?"
Looking up, I saw a chubby little boy about my age. His nose was running, but his clothes were clean. I smiled at him and replied, "Sure, let's build a big house together."
The others had fled, leaving only this little boy. At our age, fear didn't register as it might for adults. We played happily, our bare bottoms peeking out from our split pants as we sat in the sand.
After a while, he pulled out a piece of candy from his pocket and handed it to me, saying, "It's sweet."
I had never tasted candy before—blood was all I knew. Yet, I took it and placed it in my mouth. It didn't leave much of an impression, but I appreciated his gesture. Feeling grateful, I decided to reciprocate.
"I have something delicious too. Wait here, I'll get it for you," I said, rushing back into the house. I brought out the bowl of pheasant blood my parents had left for me.
The boy didn't know what it was. I demonstrated by taking a sip, staining my mouth bright red. He giggled, and I laughed along with him. Encouraged, he picked up the bowl to drink, but his grip slipped, spilling the blood all over himself.
That bowl of blood was precious to me—it was my food! Seeing it wasted, I felt a pang of heartache. Before I could think of what to do next, a piercing scream erupted behind me.
"You little freak! You damned curse! How dare you harm my son!"
A furious woman stormed over, snatched me up by the collar, and flung me far across the ground. I hit the dirt hard and began crying.
As I sobbed, I noticed a few pairs of glowing green eyes watching us from the bushes, staring not only at me but also at the enraged woman.
The woman, clutching her son, checked him over in a panic. Seeing he wasn't hurt and only had blood spilled on him, her anger didn't subside. She kicked me hard.
"You cursed brat! Feeding my son blood? I'll beat you to death!"
Each kick sent me flying, and the pain was so intense I couldn't even cry. Just then, my grandfather returned from the fields, carrying a hoe. Seeing the woman beating me, he rushed over and pushed her away.
"Third Sister-in-law, why are you hitting my grandson?" he demanded angrily.
"Your grandson tried to poison my son with blood! If anything happens to him, I'll make your family pay with your lives!" she screamed, her voice dripping with venom.
Grandpa picked me up, his heart aching as he saw me covered in dirt and tears. He glanced at the chubby boy, who was drenched in blood, and was taken aback.
This blood might not harm me, but it could certainly cause problems for an ordinary child. Knowing he was in the wrong, Grandpa could only apologize repeatedly before taking me back home.
But the woman wasn't done. She stood at our doorstep, hurling insults and drawing a crowd of onlookers. As Grandpa carried me inside, I could still see those green eyes in the bushes, watching us and the shouting woman.
"Xiao Jie, didn't I tell you to stay home? Why did you run out?" Grandpa asked, setting me down.
"Play... I just wanted to play. He gave me candy, so I gave him something good to eat," I replied between sobs.
Hearing this, Grandpa sighed deeply. A child's heart is pure. I thought sharing my most cherished food was an act of kindness, oblivious to the consequences.
When my parents returned, they scolded me harshly and forbade me from leaving the house again. Everyone assumed the matter was resolved, but it was only the beginning.
The next morning, someone found the woman's body on the hillside. Her corpse was mutilated beyond recognition, as if savaged by wild animals. Deep wounds covered her entire body, leaving no flesh unscathed. One of her legs was gnawed down to the bone. It was the very leg she had used to kick me.