"Thank you, Goddess Sister!"
Although the little girl was frail, her eyes were bright. After politely expressing her gratitude, she nibbled on the wheat cake in small bites, cherishing it like a little squirrel, while her mother bowed repeatedly to Bai Qinghan, almost about to kneel, repeatedly calling out for the Goddess's longevity.
Bai Qinghan wanted precisely this effect. With the mother and daughter as examples, the refugees, who were in panic and unease, soon calmed down significantly.
However, the next day, Bai Qinghan saw that mother not far from the village, in the newly planned cemetery.
The cemetery was deserted, with only two new graves—two refugees who had choked to death from eating too quickly. And now, a third had appeared.
The woman, the mother, sat silently by the small earthen grave. She did not cry or express deep sorrow, only gently caressing the fresh soil, as if stroking her child's cheek.
