Chapter 30: is going to be the savior of the new child again?

The dim interior was piled high with colorful scraps of fabric, like a spilled palette frozen solid on the ground.

On the left mannequin hung an unfinished corset, its whalebone ribs jutting out at the chest like the exposed frame of a dissected corpse.

“Hiss~”

Liang Lai sucked in a sharp breath of cold air.

She stepped on a sticky clump of threads, and looking down, realized it was a ball of dark red embroidery floss that, in the shadows, resembled congealed blood scabs.

A black shadow suddenly flickered in the mirror at the corner of the wall, but upon closer inspection, it was just a black gauze mourning dress hanging from a hook, the pearls adorning its cuffs swaying gently with the draft.

The innermost oak counter was riddled with wormholes, and atop its surface sat a grotesque doll, its body pieced together from assorted fabric scraps, with a real cat skull crudely sewn onto it, two faded glass beads jammed into the hollow eye sockets.

The whole scene was truly eerie, sending an unexpected shiver down Liang Lai’s spine.

She tentatively peered behind the wooden counter and spotted a bearded middle-aged man dozing off, his head nodding up and down as if he might tumble from the chair at any second.

“Hello?”

Liang Lai ventured a greeting.

The boss’s snoring cut off abruptly; he sprang from the chair in a near-conditioned reflex, and once he made out his visitor, a brilliant smile spread across his face.

“Good day, beautiful lady. What sort of fabric are you looking to buy? Or perhaps you’d like something custom-made?”

Since leaving the church, Liang Lai had found a spot to shed her saintess robes, change into casual clothes, and don a hooded cloak that veiled the upper half of her face, so she had no fear of the tailor recognizing her as church folk.

Liang Lai recalled the words Asteris and Delucia had drilled into her.

“Give me a top-quality material that hides my original temperament from prying eyes. I want to become the most dazzling moon shining tonight.”

After reciting the phrase word for word, the smile on the tailor boss’s face froze solid, then faded entirely. He circled around Liang Lai to the shop door, peered left and right, hung a “Temporarily Closed” sign, and locked it tight. Liang Lai’s heart clenched for an instant, but the boss circled back, gesturing for her to follow with a lift of his hand.

Liang Lai didn’t hesitate and immediately fell into step behind the tailor boss.

He pushed aside the cabinet stocked with fabrics behind him, revealing a hidden door right before them; the boss fished out a key, slotted it into the lock, and twisted a few times. With a sharp “click,” a pitch-black passage yawned open, leading down into the earth.

“Come on, follow me.”

The tailor boss beckoned once more.

This time, Liang Lai hesitated—but only for a second—before striding forward with resolve.

It wasn’t regret for coming here; it was just human nature to fear the dark and the unknown. Liang Lai silently clutched the hem of her garment, eyes scanning the surroundings warily for any surprises.

The passage wasn’t long; a mere minute’s walk brought them to a new chamber.

The little room was pitch black; the tailor boss lit a candle, casting a glow that finally let Liang Lai take in the sight.

In the flickering candlelight, Liang Lai’s pupils contracted sharply.

The four walls were draped in translucent membranes, quivering faintly like sheets of drying rice paper. Each one bore the delicate texture of pores, gleaming with an uncanny mother-of-pearl luster in the candle’s dance.

In the corner sat several clay jars, steeping swollen fingertips and earlobes that bobbed like silver ear mushrooms plumped by rainwater.

“Top-quality fetal membranes, all of them.”

The boss hooked one up with a tool.

“Skin from a young girl’s back, tanned with beeswax.”

The membrane gave a crisp snap, exposing a web of blue-purple capillaries on its inner side.

Liang Lai’s stomach lurched violently.

“This,” she pointed at one sheet of skin, “this one’s fake, right?”

The tailor boss let out a light chuckle, glancing at her sidelong.

“You tell me—is it real or fake?”

Liang Lai shuddered, inwardly crying out ‘Amitabha Buddha,’ only to jolt herself—she wasn’t Buddhist, she was a believer in God—and she quickly smacked her own mouth twice.

“God preserve us…”

She raised her clasped hands to her chest.

The tailor boss suddenly threw his head back in roaring laughter.

“You’re one timid little miss, aren’t you? Of course I don’t go murdering folks just to craft these. They are real, sure enough, but from young people who died natural deaths—starved out, or some mishap or other. You think I’d really start killing for a trifle like this?”

At that, Liang Lai finally exhaled in relief, patting her chest.

“That’s good, that’s good.”

With those words out, she hurriedly fished the portrait she’d sketched last night from her pocket and offered it to the boss with both hands, reverently.

“This is the face I want made—just the face will do!”

The boss took the paper, spread it on the table, and gave it a glance.

“Oh, this’ll be a cinch.”

He extended his hand toward Liang Lai again, mimicking a weighing motion.

Liang Lai got the hint at once and presented the pouch of gold coins with both hands.

She had no clue how much to offer, but for something like this, more was always better—and as a saintess, money was the one thing she never lacked. Back when she claimed to “treat gold like dirt,” it was just flowery talk of her lofty virtue; now, saying she “treated gold like dirt” meant she truly had so much she could fling it away by the handful.

The irony of it all left even Liang Lai feeling a pang of self-pity.

The tailor boss untied the pouch, peeked inside, and his face lit up with delight.

“Done deal! Park yourself over there—I’ll burn the midnight oil on this one for you. Just you wait and see, it’ll be lightning quick!”

Such was the power of coin.

Liang Lai mustered a couple of obliging smiles, dragged a small stool to the corner farthest from those skins, and settled in, idly eyeing her surroundings until drowsiness crept over her. In the end, the boss took pity and handed her a book, which helped her scrape through the next three hours.

Three hours later, the tailor boss packed the fresh-made skin into a bag and passed it to Liang Lai.

“Here you go, miss— all finished. Take it easy with this; it doesn’t hold up well. Mind you, three uses max, then swing back here for a fresh one. Oh, and a word: don’t let this human skin soak long in water, and keep it out of prolonged sun.”

The spiel matched Delucia’s instructions from yesterday to the letter; Liang Lai had committed every bit to memory.

She accepted the bag with a gentle nod, then trailed the boss from the secret room, emerging once more into the sunlight.

Liang Lai was in high spirits, nearly at the alley’s mouth, when a sharp crack rang out—a jar shattering on the ground—followed hard by a piercing wail of agony.