literally stories

Mei bought these silkworms on Taobao. She said a silkworm’s life cycle lasted four to six weeks, and by the time this batch spun their silk, her body would more or less be properly conditioned again too. But what she bought were not ordinary silkworms. They were advertised as “colored silkworms.” In the online shop photos they looked beautiful, bright red and green, but when they arrived, they looked nothing like the pictures. They lay sluggishly inside a Wing Wah mooncake tin, the one I had lent her, like specimens soaked in formalin for three days. Their bluish gray skin was covered in irregular dark spots, as if someone had stabbed them with pencil tips, or as if they had some kind of skin disease. Some had strange lumpy growths rising from their backs. Me said these were called “dragon horn silkworms,” a rare breed whose silk came out golden yellow. But when I looked at those bumps, all I could think of were the scabs left after squeezing pimples. Mei said the cocoons could sell for a good price, but when she poured them into the mooncake tin, three were already dead. The rest writhed weakly, as if barely clinging to life. Mei said she had consulted Baidu and planned to shine blue light on them to stimulate their growth.