Yang Ming was a smart man. The way Shen Guoguo had asked about the circumstances of discovering the Sky Silkworm made it clear she knew at least something about it.
Besides, the silkworm was already dead—what could it hurt to tell her? It wasn’t like she’d go tattling to the Ma family.If anything, he might even learn a bit more about the creature from her.
Shen Guoguo took the small iron box. The silkworm’s once-white body was now faintly yellowed. She touched it gently with her finger—it really was dead.
What a pity…
As she flipped the tiny body over, she noticed a black speck stuck to its belly—small as a sesame seed, easy to overlook.
At first glance, it looked like… bug droppings.
Wait a minute.
“Uncle Yang, give me a needle,” Shen Guoguo said seriously.
“Oh!”
Yang Ming quickly opened a small sewing kit on the shelf and handed her one.
Shen Guoguo carefully used the needle tip to lift the tiny “black sesame.”
Then she smiled at Yang Ming, showing her two little tiger teeth. “Uncle Yang, you’ve got good luck.”
Good luck? The silkworm was dead—what luck was there to speak of?
Still, he asked, “What do you mean?”
Shen Guoguo placed the tiny black dot onto a small piece of fabric.
“This is a Sky Silkworm egg. Normally, their eggs are white—but when they turn black, it means they’re about to hatch.”
“What?!”
Both Yang Ming and Huo Tao were startled. “Are you sure?” Yang Ming asked, disbelief in his voice.
If what she said was true, then didn’t that mean… he might actually have a living Sky Silkworm soon?
But more than that—how did this girl know so much?
He couldn’t ask directly, of course.
Shen Guoguo looked at the fabric carefully. “If Uncle Yang trusts me, let me take care of this egg. And if you can bring back those tree leaves you mentioned, I should be able—well, probably able—to raise the silkworm successfully.”
“Alright!”
“I’ll go find those leaves immediately!”
“Wait,” Shen Guoguo stopped him, “let’s make things clear first. This Sky Silkworm egg was discovered by accident, and the original silkworm was already dead. If anything goes wrong during hatching—”
“No, no, no, Guoguo, Xiao Tao, don’t worry.” Yang Ming thumped his chest earnestly. “I understand how this works. Do whatever you need. No matter what happens, I won’t blame you.”
He wasn’t the kind of man to push his luck.
If Shen Guoguo hadn’t pointed out the egg, he would have missed it entirely. Now at least there was hope.
Shen Guoguo nodded, satisfied. “Then we’ll hatch it here, in your shop. Just make sure no one from the Ma family finds out.”
Yang Ming froze for a moment.
The hatching of a Sky Silkworm—something so rare and valuable—and she was willing to do it here, meaning she’d share the process with him.
Excited, he rubbed his hands together. “Xiao Tao, Guoguo, if—just if—this works out and there’s any profit in the future, I won’t forget you. Of course, the risk’s all on me.”
Not bad, Shen Guoguo thought, he gets it.
She smiled approvingly. “It looks like the egg can last maybe half a day more. Around seven tonight, we’ll come back. Uncle Yang, can you get those leaves by then?”
“I can!” Yang Ming replied firmly.
Wasting no time, Shen Guoguo hung the bundle of free clothes on the wheelchair and left Jiang Shui Ban with Huo Tao, heading straight for the mutant beast slaughterhouse.
On the way, Huo Tao suddenly spoke. “Thank you.”
“Huh? What for?”
“You helped Uncle Yang because he was my father’s friend, didn’t you?”
He knew Shen Guoguo seemed like someone who avoided unnecessary trouble. Helping Yang Ming like this—and potentially angering the Ma family—had to be for his sake.
Shen Guoguo patted his broad shoulder.
“There are a lot of reasons. You’re just one of them.”
“This is an opportunity. If it works, we’ll make money. If not, no big deal. Besides, Uncle Yang didn’t charge us for the clothes, right?”
“We’re family. Don’t be so polite!”
She said it so naturally that warmth bloomed in Huo Tao’s chest.
Someone actually cared about him—It felt just like that one time in childhood when he’d tasted hot milk for the first time: sweet, gentle, comforting.
When they arrived at the mutant beast slaughterhouse and saw the robot guard, Shen Guoguo smacked her forehead.
“Ah! I forgot!”
“Forgot what?” Huo Tao asked.
She walked up to the robot. “Hey, buddy! I forgot to bring back the little metal basin I borrowed from you last time. I’ll bring it next time, I promise.”
【Beep…】【Beep…】
No one had ever made a promise to a robot before. Everything between humans and machines was always contractual—beyond the rules, nothing counted.
The robot’s circuits practically shorted.
“Next time, okay? I’ll definitely bring it! We’re going in now!” Shen Guoguo waved cheerfully and pushed Huo Tao inside.
Unlike the junkyard, this place only required a simple registration—then anyone could enter or leave freely.
Today, the slaughterhouse was unusually crowded… smoky and chaotic.
It was just as lively as the plaza on the day she first arrived in this world.People were gathered around the largest operating platform.
From outside the crowd, she couldn’t see anything—only hear the sound of a beast’s roaring and the chatter of the onlookers. After a while, she finally pieced together what was going on.
Leaning toward Huo Tao, she whispered, “Seems like someone caught a pig. Chef Li Da is butchering it.”
“Ha! Little girl, what pig? That’s a Blackgold Beast!” someone nearby corrected her.
Eh?
Now it was Shen Guoguo’s turn to lag a bit—CPU overloaded.
Her big eyes blinked blankly.
Blackgold Beast?
She vaguely remembered her college livestock classes—her teacher once said pigs had many poetic nicknames: Blackgold, Lanzi, Grain Prince, Long-Snout General, Black-Faced Gentleman, and so on.
Who would’ve thought, three hundred years into the post-apocalyptic era, the world would return to such “elegance.”
Tsk tsk… poetic indeed.
Finding a gap in the crowd, she pushed Huo Tao forward until they reached the front row.
Finally, she saw the so-called “Blackgold Beast” clearly—and rubbed her eyes in disbelief.
From outside, she’d only heard the squealing and assumed it was a normal pig.
But this thing was huge.
As big as a yellow ox.
Its body was massive, its cries deafening, with a thick tail and two enormous… uncastrated parts dangling beneath it.
Shen Guoguo took a deep breath.
Alright then—this fit perfectly with the post-apocalyptic theme of mutant beasts.
The Blackgold Beast’s four legs were bound tightly with iron cables to the slaughter platform. Its head was bloodied, riddled with bullet holes—it must’ve taken serious effort to capture alive.
And there, she saw the legendary Master Chef Li Da.
Neither fat nor thin, with a serious face, dressed neatly in a blue cotton robe and matching headscarf.
He looked refined, almost scholarly—like an old gentleman who’d somehow wandered out of a history museum.
Honestly, if you put him in a city park’s matchmaking corner, he’d be the most popular grandpa there.
Behind him stood an assistant.
When Li Da raised his arms, the assistant immediately rolled up his sleeves and secured them neatly.
Then, palms upward, he extended his hands. The assistant promptly placed a gleaming long knife into them.
Shen Guoguo watched, fascinated.
To slaughter a beast this big…That had to be one spectacular sight.