My daughter brought home a few silkworms, which wriggled on the mulberry leaves like a colony of ants. Since there are no mulberry trees in the city, she buys mulberry leaves from the school gate every day, washes them, and keeps them in the refrigerator. From then on, my life, besides reading, writing, raising my daughter, and caring for my cats, also included the joy of tending to these silkworms.
The little silkworms grow incredibly fast, changing noticeably every day. Within a few days, they grow half an inch long and turn grayish-white. As soon as mulberry leaves are scattered, they swarm toward the food, lifting their heads and devouring the leaves edge by edge. The term 'silkworm eating' is indeed an incredibly accurate description of their voracious appetite.
As they eat, they continuously excrete green, granular droppings. I once heard that some people use these to fill pillows, claiming it helps clear heat and improve vision, though I am unsure what elegant name Chinese medicine gives this practice. As the silkworms grow, they eventually become as thick as my finger, and their backs begin to look translucent. Finding a corner in the box, they sway their heads and begin to spin silk.
I remember hearing as a child that silkworms spin silk into whatever shape they are resting upon. When on a cardboard surface, they weave a thin, paper-like layer, which people in my hometown used to sandwich patterns or shoe designs between, ensuring they remained untouched by insects. Others placed them in inkstones, where the silk, being soft and absorbent, served well for scholars to moisten their brushes. Mr. Sun Li once described it this way in his writings.