Deep in Ailao Mountain, the night was torn to pieces.
It's not the wind, it's not the rain, it's the insects. Billions of flapping insects gathered into a black vortex that swallowed the moonlight, and their screams penetrated the rock formations. The bamboo building trembled amidst the buzzing. Under the dim oil lamp, the old man held up the crying baby. The shadows outside the window were poisons that had not appeared in the world for a hundred years - they were bowing to the new flesh and blood.
