In the humid, fertile hills sprawling inland from the great Lake Tai, renowned for producing the empire's most coveted silk, lay Can Gu Cun – Silkworm Valley Village. Its existence was woven, thread by delicate thread, around the lifecycle of the silkworm and the unique mulberry trees that thrived in the valley's mist-laden microclimate. The leaves of these ancient trees, possessing a subtle silvery sheen, produced silk of unparalleled lustre and strength, known as 'Moon Thread'. For generations, the villagers, mostly women skilled in the patient arts of sericulture, had tended the worms, harvested the cocoons, and spun the precious thread, their lives governed by the quiet rhythms of growth, transformation, and meticulous craft. Their prosperity, modest but stable, depended entirely on the health of their worms and the vitality of the sacred mulberry grove at the valley's heart – a place considered the dwelling of Can Mu, the Silkworm Mother, a benevolent local spirit believed to nurture the worms and bless the silk.
Presiding over these traditions was Elder Mei Lian, the village matriarch, a woman whose silver hair mirrored the sheen on the mulberry leaves, her hands gnarled yet gentle from decades of handling delicate worms and cocoons. Her face, usually serene, was now deeply etched with worry. A shadow had fallen over Silkworm Valley, colder and more insidious than the mists that crept down from the surrounding peaks. The silkworms, usually voracious and robust, were falling ill. They grew sluggish, refusing the finest mulberry leaves. Their bodies, normally plump and pale, became thin, discoloured, sometimes developing strange dark spots before dying off in alarming numbers. The cocoons they did manage to spin were small, brittle, yielding thread that was dull, weak, easily broken – a pale imitation of the famed Moon Thread. The village's livelihood, its very soul, was fraying.
Simultaneously, strange phenomena began to manifest near the sacred mulberry grove and the small, weathered shrine dedicated to Can Mu within it. Villagers gathering leaves reported seeing eerie, shimmering threads, thicker and greyer than any spider silk, draping the ancient trees like ghostly shrouds, dissolving at a touch. Faint, sorrowful humming sounds, like the vibration of countless tiny wings trapped in grief, emanated from the grove's depths, particularly at dusk. A pervasive feeling of listlessness, a draining fatigue, settled upon those who spent time near the grove, and the air within it felt heavy, cold, carrying a faint, sickly sweet scent reminiscent of decay. Most disturbing were the moths. Large, pale grey moths, larger than any native species, with faint, eye-like markings on their wings that seemed to weep a dark, oily substance, were sometimes glimpsed fluttering erratically near the shrine just after sunset, vanishing instantly if approached.
Elder Mei Lian feared the worst. She believed Can Mu, the Silkworm Mother spirit, was angered or, perhaps worse, weakened, her nurturing energy blighted, causing the sickness in the worms and the strange manifestations. The timing seemed significant. Six months prior, Merchant Feng Dehai, an ambitious outsider with connections to powerful officials, had acquired a large tract of land bordering the sacred grove. Ignoring village traditions and Elder Mei's quiet warnings, Feng had aggressively cleared adjacent forest for his own large-scale mulberry plantation, using unfamiliar, fast-growing tree varieties. Rumours suggested he might also be using potent fertilizers or pesticides imported from distant provinces, their runoff potentially seeping towards the ancient grove. Elder Mei suspected Feng's reckless expansion and disregard for the valley's delicate balance had offended the Silkworm Mother, poisoning the sacred grove and disrupting the flow of vital energy that sustained the worms.
Her granddaughter, Mei Zhu, shared her fears. Zhu, young and skilled in the delicate art of reeling silk, possessed a heightened sensitivity to the valley's energies. She felt the wrongness keenly – the weakened qi of the silkworms, the heavy sorrow emanating from the grove, the chilling presence of the phantom moths. She had tried approaching the grove herself to leave placating offerings at the shrine, but was overcome by such profound dizziness and despair near the grey, shimmering threads that she was forced to retreat, feeling as if her own vitality was being drawn away. She saw the fear growing in the villagers' eyes, saw the precious Moon Thread production dwindling towards nothing, saw her grandmother age visibly under the strain.
Knowing the village faced ruin if the blight continued, and fearing Merchant Feng's influence prevented any appeal to local magistrates, Elder Mei decided on a different path. She recalled tales from her own grandmother about wandering Taoist masters who understood the deep connections between spirits, nature, and human well-being. She sent Mei Zhu on a discreet journey to the nearest major town, carrying a small pouch of the village's last remaining high-quality Moon Thread silk as both an offering and proof of their plight, seeking anyone who might know of such a wise person. Fate, or the subtle currents of the Dao, guided Mei Zhu to a temple where Xuanzhen was resting briefly after resolving the matter of the Resentful Opera Mask in Suzhou.
Xuanzhen listened with quiet intensity as Mei Zhu, her voice filled with earnest desperation, recounted the plight of Silkworm Valley – the failing worms, the blighted grove, the eerie threads and moths, the potentially disruptive actions of Merchant Feng, and the feared distress of the Silkworm Mother spirit. The elements formed a coherent, troubling picture: a delicate natural and spiritual ecosystem thrown into imbalance by human ignorance and greed, manifesting as sickness, decay, and strange phenomena. The connection between the health of the silkworms, the vitality of the sacred grove, and the well-being of the local nature spirit was clear.
"Nature spirits, like Can Mu, are often bound closely to the health of their domain, Lady Mei Zhu," Xuanzhen explained gently. "They are guardians, but also vulnerable. When the land is wounded, poisoned, or disrespected, the spirit suffers. Its energy becomes distorted, weakened, or agitated. This suffering then ripples outwards, affecting all that depends upon its harmonious influence – in this case, the mulberry leaves, the silkworms, and perhaps even the spirit of your village."
Recognizing the urgency and the potential for widespread suffering if the imbalance wasn't corrected, Xuanzhen agreed to accompany Mei Zhu back to Silkworm Valley. He travelled not as a renowned master, but as a humble wandering scholar interested in observing traditional sericulture techniques, allowing him to assess the situation without attracting undue attention or provoking Merchant Feng prematurely.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Arriving in Can Gu Cun, Xuanzhen felt the oppressive atmosphere immediately. The village, nestled in its beautiful valley, felt muted, lacking the vibrant qi usually associated with prosperous artisan communities. A subtle layer of anxiety and fatigue overlay everything. He observed the silkworm sheds – the worms were indeed listless, many dead or dying, the few remaining cocoons small and fragile. He examined the mulberry leaves being fed to them – they lacked the usual vibrant sheen, appearing dull, slightly brittle.
He then walked with Elder Mei and Mei Zhu towards the sacred grove at the valley's heart. As they approached, the air grew noticeably colder, damper, the sickly sweet scent becoming more pronounced. The trees at the grove's edge looked unhealthy, their leaves yellowed, some draped in the eerie, shimmering grey threads that seemed to absorb the light. Xuanzhen touched one carefully; it felt cold, slightly sticky, and dissolved instantly, leaving a faint, irritating residue on his fingertips. He felt the qi within the grove – it was thick, stagnant, profoundly sorrowful, yet held an undercurrent of agitated, almost feverish energy.
Within the grove stood the small, ancient stone shrine to Can Mu. Offerings lay before it, but seemed untouched, disregarded. The stone itself felt cold, unresponsive. Xuanzhen closed his eyes, extending his senses, seeking the spirit of the Silkworm Mother. He found her presence – ancient, fundamentally nurturing, deeply connected to the cycles of transformation embodied by the silkworm – but it was weak, fragmented, overlaid with pain and confusion. It felt like a spirit under attack, poisoned, its energy being distorted, causing the blight and perhaps manifesting the spectral moths and threads as symptoms of its distress. He sensed the source of the poison strongly correlating with the direction of Merchant Feng’s new plantation bordering the grove.
"The Silkworm Mother is not angry, Elder Mei," Xuanzhen stated quietly. "She is sick. Wounded by the changes nearby. Her distress poisons the leaves, weakens the worms, manifests these shadows."
The immediate need was twofold: stop the source of the poisoning and perform a ritual to cleanse the grove, heal the spirit, and restore the flow of healthy, nurturing energy.
Addressing Merchant Feng was delicate. Xuanzhen, accompanied by Elder Mei (whose quiet authority carried weight), visited Feng at his newly built residence near the plantation. Feng was blustery, dismissive, focused solely on his projected profits. Xuanzhen didn't speak of spirits or curses, but framed the issue in practical terms. He pointed out the yellowing leaves on Feng's own mulberry trees nearest the sacred grove, suggesting the soil itself might be unbalanced or tainted by whatever fertilizers Feng was using. He subtly hinted that the 'local sickness' affecting the village worms could potentially spread to Feng's own operation if the underlying environmental imbalance wasn't addressed. He spoke of the valley's unique ecosystem, the generations of knowledge held by Elder Mei, suggesting cooperation might be more profitable in the long run than aggressive expansion that harmed the source of the valley's famed silk quality. He used logic, subtle pressure, and an appeal to self-interest. Feng, though unconvinced about spirits, was swayed by the potential threat to his own investment and the undeniable evidence of the yellowing leaves on his side of the boundary. He grudgingly agreed to temporarily halt work near the grove and suspend use of his imported fertilizers pending further investigation.
With the immediate source of disruption paused, Xuanzhen focused on healing the grove and the Silkworm Mother spirit. The ritual required the participation of the village women, led by Elder Mei and Mei Zhu, reaffirming their connection and offering collective nurturing energy. They gathered at the edge of the grove at dawn, bringing offerings symbolic of the silkworm cycle and healing: fresh, healthy mulberry leaves gathered from unaffected trees further down the valley, bowls of pure spring water, skeins of raw, undyed silk thread, and small lamps burning clean, fragrant oil (representing life-flame).
Xuanzhen first performed a cleansing ritual, walking the perimeter of the grove, sprinkling salt mixed with powdered quartz to absorb negativity, burning purifying sage and pine resin incense, and chanting mantras to dispel stagnant energy and dissolve the eerie grey threads. The heavy atmosphere began to lift, the sickly sweet scent fading.
Then, he guided the women to enter the grove respectfully, approaching the shrine. They placed their offerings – the vibrant leaves, the clear water, the pure silk – before Can Mu's altar. Elder Mei led them in traditional prayers and songs honouring the Silkworm Mother, expressing sorrow for her suffering, reaffirming their dedication, and pleading for her recovery and blessing. Their combined voices, filled with sincere reverence and hope, created a powerful wave of positive, nurturing qi.
Xuanzhen stood beside the shrine, acting as a conduit and amplifier. He drew upon his own energy, channeling harmonizing qi into the earth around the shrine and the ancient mulberry trees. He visualized the poisoned energy being drawn out, neutralized, the spirit's wounds being cleansed, its natural vitality returning, flowing outwards once more to nourish the leaves, the worms, the valley. He focused on reinforcing the spirit's connection to the healthy cycles of growth, transformation, and renewal. He struck a small wooden fish drum softly, its gentle rhythm like a steady heartbeat, calming the agitated energy.
As the ritual progressed, a tangible change occurred. The oppressive coldness within the grove dissipated, replaced by a gentle warmth. The air felt lighter, cleaner, smelling only of damp earth and mulberry leaves. A faint, healthy luminescence seemed to return to the shrine stone. Looking up, Mei Zhu gasped softly – the few remaining grey threads clinging to the branches seemed to dissolve like mist, and the leaves on the ancient trees appeared subtly greener, healthier. The phantom humming ceased.
In the following weeks, with Merchant Feng's harmful activities halted and the grove's energy rebalanced, the valley began to heal. The sacred mulberry trees regained their vibrancy. The silkworms slowly recovered, the sickness receding, new hatchings emerging healthy and vigorous. The next harvest of cocoons yielded thread that once again held the faint, luminous sheen of true Moon Thread. The spectral moths were not seen again.
Merchant Feng, seeing the recovery in the village and the continued health of his own trees away from the grove, perhaps learned a grudging lesson about respecting local conditions and traditions. Elder Mei and the villagers continued their offerings at the shrine with renewed reverence, understanding the fragile interdependence between their craft, the land, and the spirit that nurtured them.
Xuanzhen departed Silkworm Valley, leaving harmony tentatively restored. The Silkworm Mother's Shadow served as a potent reminder of the delicate web connecting human activity, the natural world, and the spirits of place. Progress pursued with ignorance or greed could inflict deep wounds on this web, poisoning the very sources of life and prosperity. Healing required not just ceasing the harm, but actively working to restore balance, cleanse the wounds, and reaffirm the bonds of respect between humanity and the subtle, powerful energies that sustain the living world.
