Catching Nian

Dusk at the end of winter, two boys roamed the village streets. Their footsteps were quick and light, like thieves; they knew full well they should not be out after dark.

“I don’t like this, Ming,” said Xiaodan, the younger of the two. “Spring is coming. If we’re caught by the Nian—”

Ming snorted. “Don’t be silly.” He rounded a corner, keeping close to shadows. His movements were so graceful, Xiaodan would’ve thought he was a professional thief had he not been his friend. “The Nian is an old wives’ tale. Hurry up!”

Not for the first time that night, Xiaodan wondered why he’d agreed to come with Ming. He had a talent for getting into trouble, and not necessarily getting out of it. Xiaodan bit his nails—a bad habit that surfaced when he was nervous. He tried not to think about the many ways they could get caught and focused instead on walking as silently as he could.

They reached the village toymaker’s shop. On the floor above the shop, the living quarters glowed with dim firelight, but the store itself was pitch black. The streets were deserted. Ming crept towards the shop’s back door, pulling two knitting needles from his pocket.

Oh heavens, Xiaodan thought. He’s really going to do it.

It was not toys they sought, but the sleek, wooden dice they’d seen on display. One of the bigger boys at school, Shan, had challenged Ming to bring the dice to their next game.

“He told me to bring it,” Ming had said. “He didn’t say I couldn’t steal it.”

Xiaodan had protested, reasoned, and even threatened to tell Ming’s father. But he might as well have been talking to a pig. That mischievous gleam—the one that Xiaodan was so familiar with—had shone in Ming’s face, and there was no talking him out of his plan.

“Stay here and keep watch,” Ming told Xiaodan. “I’ll give you a signal when I’ve cracked the lock.”

“What’s the signal?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” said Ming. Then he was gone.

There was a song Xiaodan’s mother used to sing to him, when the storm raged around them and thunder frightened him. He hummed it to himself now. The rhythm calmed his pulse, soothed him a little. Then he stopped to listen for Ming’s signal.

What’s taking him so long? Xiaodan’s ears strained against the crickets’ tune. Where was the clicking of needles, the noise of a lock opening?

Thunk. A sound like a sack of potatoes falling. Xiaodan left his spot and headed to where Ming had gone.

“Ming?” he whispered. There was the toymaker’s backdoor, the large padlock still unopened. His companion was nowhere to be found. “Ming, where are you?”

The darkness was thick here; moonlight did not reach this little alley. Xiaodan suddenly wished for a torch. He retraced his steps, his fear a sour taste in his mouth. Did Ming go back for him? Was he hiding? Maybe he heard the sound and thought it was someone else—

A shadow emerged from the alley to his right.

At first glance, Xiaodan thought it was a bear, because bears were the only creatures he knew that could grow so large. But even in his terrified state, Xiaodan knew bears did not have horns. They did not have long, swishing tails, and claws as sharp as knives. They did not have fangs that protruded past their jaws.

Before Xiaodan could scream, a blow caught his head and he was falling, falling, falling into nothingness.