Xin Huohuo jumped in fright.
Anyone would be startled to hear a man—a mentally unstable, or perhaps mutated, man—suddenly speak in the middle of the night. She thought he had discovered her and was speaking to her.
Fortunately, she kept her composure and made no sound.
Holding her breath, she watched the shopkeeper walk to the back room. He didn't go in, though—he just opened the door, glanced inside, then turned back. Reaching under the counter again, he pulled out a small, straw-woven figurine.
His movements were so careful, almost tender, as he gently placed the little straw man into a velvet-lined box. He stroked it lightly with a finger, his face overflowing with affection—a stark contrast to the vicious way he had stabbed it with a needle just moments before. It was like watching two completely different reactions.
