Catching Nian

Rui Ning was annoyed that it took her so long to figure it out. That brain of yours is getting rusty, Ning er, Mama would say. Rui Ning would’ve stuck her tongue out and proven her mother wrong.

Though Rui Ning herself had sneaked past these streets on many nights (for various reasons she would not disclose), she found it difficult to keep up with Geriel, who slid between shadows as though she were one herself. Rui Ning watched the huntress in awe. By the time they reached the Jun house, she was breathless with the thrill of the night.

The journey from the village chief’s office to her home was a short one, and Rui Ning was not surprised to be met with no interruptions. The chief hadn’t even set up patrols to guard the town.

But of course he wouldn’t.

“Tell me about your plan,” whispered Geriel once they were inside the house.

Rui Ning said, “I’d rather show you.”

The candles were burning low, but Rui Ning knew exactly how to navigate the mess of her home. She ran to her father’s empty room—the man had not moved from the living room since Ming was gone. Rui Ning reached beneath his musty mattress and grabbed a wad of yuanbao. It was half of their savings, but Rui Ning knew there could be no gain without risk, and right now, she was confident in the bet she placed.

She hurried downstairs again. Geriel stared at her.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the—”

“I don’t,” said Rui Ning, before slipping out the door quietly to place the money on the porch altar. The town was asleep, the silence broken only by an owl’s hooting. Nothing moved in the snow-covered streets of ZhuangXi. Not yet.

When she reentered the house, Rui Ning said, “Huntress, how good is your aim?”

Geriel made an indignant face. “Good enough.”

“It better be.” Rui Ning extracted a bundle of bamboo shoots from the closet, a packet of mixed powders, and matchsticks. Her father had only tested these once, but they would have to do.

“I’m counting on it.”

Winter nights in ZhuangXi were quiet, but this night even more so. It was as if the entire village knew something important was going to happen and held their breath as one. Snow drifted gently over the buildings, painting them in shades of grey and white. The only colour that could be seen was the bright red of banners and lanterns, draped across every door and storefront, an attempt to ward off the Nian Shou.

In the darkness, a beast awakened.

It walked on all fours, its head covered by red fur, golden scales shimmering as it moved. A single horn protruded from its forehead. The Nian Shou trudged through the chilly streets of ZhuangXi, its gait oddly stilted. But the snow muffled its footfalls, so it passed unnoticed through the village, stopping by each household that had laid out offerings of money and food.

The beast opened its mouth and accepted the offerings.

Most villagers were deep in slumber, so they did not see the limping beast gobbling up the offerings on their porches. But in the house that stood at the end of JuHua Street, two young women were awake, watchful. They stiffened when the beast stumbled into view. One of them tightened her grip on her bow. The other girl, on the top floor, held a box of matchsticks.

The Nian Shou plodded up to the house. It lowered its head to the altar in the front lawn, eager to swallow the offering of yuanbao—

A streak of fire tore through the air and struck the Nian Shou.

Boom. Rui Ning’s fireworks exploded. The beast reeled. It cried out—not with the howl of an animal but a man. Two men, to be precise. Their disguise had caught fire, and they rushed to shrug off the furs, fabrics, and the wooden contraption built to resemble a lion’s head. They plunged into the snow to put out the flames.

Geriel threw open the front doors, took aim, and let her arrows fly, one after the other. Not to kill, only to prevent the culprits from running. They screamed when the arrows lodged into their legs, waking the whole village.

Rui Ning had joined Geriel on the lawn, her face flushed with excitement. She gazed at the flames with barely concealed triumph, pleased that the fireworks she and her father invented had worked. Geriel moved to haul the men up by their collars.

The thinner of the two men whimpered in Geriel’s grasp. A crimson stain was spreading on his pant leg, but Rui Ning ignored it. “Yuan shi fu,” said Rui Ning evenly. “Of course. That would explain the scratches on your arm, and why your costume is so convincing.” Yuan was a tailor, an exceptionally good one—it’s a pity he used his talents for the wrong intentions.

Geriel grinned, a feral flash of teeth. “Told you.”

But Rui Ning already knew, just like she knew that the other man would be…

“Cun zhang.”

The village chief’s face twisted in pain. He tried to control his breathing—putting on a brave front, even now—but it was no use. He crumpled, his injured leg no longer able to support his weight.

Rui Ning spat on the ground next to him. “I was hoping that I was wrong. That it wasn’t you.” She shot him a look of pure venom. “Where is my brother?”

A dozen or so villagers had emerged from their homes, curious to see what the commotion was about. A woman wailed and, clutching her child, ran forward to the chief. She sank to the ground beside him, sobbing, fussing over his wound. His pregnant wife and daughter. Rui Ning would’ve felt sorry that they had to see this. But she could summon no pity for the man and his family.

The villagers were outraged at the sight of their leader, injured. But then they saw the burning lion’s head on the ground, the yuanbao spilling out from a sack, and they realised…

“It was you!” screamed Madam Li. “There was never any Nian Shou. You were pretending to be the beast! You hurt my son!”

“All this just so that you could take our money!” cried another man.

“My good people,” wheezed the village chief. He raised his hands weakly in a show of surrender. “You are mistaken. Yuan lao ye and I have been attacked, and framed. These young women—” he pointed at Geriel and Rui Ning, “—disguised themselves as the beast—”

“He’s lying!” shouted Rui Ning.

“—to make you fearful. So that you would put out offerings that they could steal.”

The villagers cast doubtful glances at the two girls. Rui Ning would’ve struck the chief again had Geriel not stopped her. “Don’t,” the huntress hissed in her ear. “It would only make you look guilty.”

The chief continued, “Jun Song Ming has never been missing. Rui Ning and the foreigner have planned this all along—”

“You would make sense, cun zhang,” said Geriel calmly. “If not for this.” She stepped forward to roll up Yuan’s sleeve, revealing his scratch wounds. “Yuan shi fu is a tailor. He does not work with animals, so there’s no reason why one would attack him. But if he’d abducted a young boy, and that boy put up a fight…”

“It was a cat!” Yuan protested. “I…I tried to pick a stray up—”

“Perhaps.” Geriel moved to the pile of burning disguise. She gestured at the fabric, charred but undeniably red. From the way it gleamed in the moonlight, one could even tell that it was silk. “This costume of the beast was well made, using red silk and metal discs to resemble scales. While Rui Ning could have crafted it, she wouldn’t have been able to afford the materials. Neither would I. But Yuan lao ye is a tailor, and he recently bought a large amount of red silk. Odd, considering that no one in ZhuangXi can afford red clothes.”

“That’s not true!” Yuan said. But Geriel fished out a piece of paper from her coat and handed it to the nearest villager. It was Zhang, the butcher.

“The Mongol is right,” Zhang admitted gruffly. “This receipt says Yuan purchased ten rolls of red silk last month.”

“And he was the one who suggested we put out offerings for the Nian Shou!” said another woman.

More murmurs from the crowd. Rui Ning shared a small smile with Geriel. She wondered how, just in a matter of hours, the huntress had gone from being the person she trusted the least to the one she trusted the most.

“So Master Yuan is at fault then!” cried the chief’s wife. Her face had gone white with shock. “What does that have to do with my husband?”

Rui Ning pulled the purple fazan from her hair. She crouched beside the chief’s daughter and asked, gently, “Do you recognise this, Hui Yan?”

The little girl’s eyes, round and glossy with tears, widened. “Yes,” she said. “He… Song Ming ge gave it to me a few weeks ago. I thought I’d lost it.”

“And when did you realise it was missing?”

The girl bit her lip. “This morning.”

“You didn’t lose it,” said Rui Ning as she stood. She addressed the crowd, “This hairpin was mine. My brother took it from me to give it to his friend, the chief’s daughter. But the cun zhang saw other uses for it. He thought that if he left it at the scene of the crime, where Xiaodan was found, then I would be blamed.”

“Do you actually believe her nonsense?” the chief sneered. “This girl is mad, just like her father. That fazan is just proof that she’s guilty—”

“But it was in your possession before Ming disappeared. Your daughter said as much.”

“Speculation!” Spittle flew from the chief’s mouth. “That’s all you have. Where is your proof?”

With slow, deliberate steps, Geriel approached the village chief’s daughter. Hui Yan shivered; Rui Ning suspected it wasn’t just because of the cold.

“Hui Yan,” said Geriel. “You know what your father has done, and you know that it is wrong. If you tell us where Song Ming is, I swear no harm or blame will come to you. I swear it.”

“Get away from my daughter!” the girl’s mother snarled.

Rui Ning reached for Hui Yan’s hand. “Please, Yan er.”

“I said get back—”

The girl’s lips wobbled. For a moment it looked like she would say nothing. Then her lips parted in a cry and she folded in on herself, as though the weight of recent events had finally proved too much for her. As the wind whistled around them, the girl told the story of the boy in her basement.