Sister finally made it through three days.

As soon as the three days were up, the shaman brought honey and flower dew, which would be the only food Sister could have for the next year.

Sister patted my head and kept saying, "It's okay, it's okay."

We can give everything to become ointment girls.

That's what the shaman has been telling us since we were little.

I asked Sister, "Do you really think so?"

Sister smiled gently and said, "Of course, it's my biggest wish."

But a long time ago, Sister's wish was clearly to see the outside world.

After eating the honey, Sister finally regained her strength. I supported her and we left this underground chamber.

The space in the underground chamber was surprisingly large. In addition to Sister's small room, there were countless identical rooms, a hall, and a bathroom.

To ensure the fragrance of their skin, ointment girls had to bathe daily in special flower dew.

To keep their skin fair and tender, ointment girls could not take a single step outside this underground chamber until they were made into ointments.

Their delicate skin couldn't tolerate the sun's rays.

The shaman looked satisfied as she watched the ointment girls who had made it through three days. Her voice was as hoarse as a crow's.

"I'll give you one last chance. Those who want to be ointment girls can stay, those who don't want to, step forward, and I'll take you away from here."

No one moved.

The fate of the village's women was only two.

Be ointment girls or marry men.

The shaman said that men were evil, dirty, and foul-smelling creatures.

Ordinary women were born to serve and please them.

Ointment girls, on the other hand, were born to punish men.

The fragrance emanating from ointment girls would drive men to the brink of ecstasy, madly pursuing and fighting for them.

In the end, they would pay the ultimate price for ointment, dying in misery.

The cowherd stole the weaver girl's clothes and took away her love.

But ointment girls existed solely to conquer men.

Compared to being a plaything for men, everyone present would rather become the coveted ointment girls.

There was a glimmer in Sister's eyes, clearly indicating that the shaman's words in her memory had struck a chord with her.

"I want to become the best ointment girl!"

I stood by Sister's side, listening to her constant muttering.