Catching Nian

The first thing Geriel noticed about Rui Ning was that a corner of her left eyebrow was singed. For reasons she could not explain, Geriel thought this was perfectly normal of the girl. Maybe that temper of hers had somehow set her face on fire. But it was better like this. Rui Ning would’ve been absurdly pretty if not for that burnt eyebrow.

The second thing Geriel learned about the girl was that she never stopped talking.

“I haven’t met a nomad before,” Rui Ning said. “What brings you to the Empire?”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

“All kinds.”

“Like answering questions without actually answering them?”

“Like knowing when to keep quiet,” said Geriel.

They strode eastward, to the part of the village closer to the river. Stalls were set up by the road, selling soups and broths that created puffs of steam in the air. The villagers were dressed in thick hanfu against the crisp winter morning. Geriel had to step out of the way as several merchant carts rumbled by. It had been three years since she left the Steppes, and still she was not used to the sight of so many people in one place, so many shops and houses.

Rui Ning continued, “You’re a huntress, aren’t you?”

“I would’ve thought that was obvious.” Geriel indicated the hunting knives on her belt, her bow and arrow.

The jibe had no effect on Rui Ning. “How did you learn to speak Putonghua so well?”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t sound so eager, huntress, I was just making an observation.”

“Then let me make an observation about you,” said Geriel. “You’re annoying me and being rude to avoid thinking about your missing brother, who might very possibly be dead. Am I right?”

Rui Ning’s jaw clenched. She stared ahead, not meeting Geriel’s eyes. Her pace quickened. Geriel knew she had offended the girl, but she could not bring herself to feel sorry.

“Why are you travelling alone?” Rui Ning said at last. “I thought Mongols keep close to their families.”

Now it was her turn to strike a nerve in Geriel. The nomad had managed to not think about her family for a long time, and damn Rui Ning for unravelling all her hard work with a few words. Geriel saw her mother’s lined face, how it had hardened when she told her daughter to get out, get out and never come back. Sharp pain sprung to her chest.

“They’re not here,” she said simply.

“Where are they?”

“Why don’t you tell me about your brother?” said Geriel. “Where did he go the night he went missing?”

“I’m quite sure that’s what missing means, huntress. We don’t know where he went.”

Geriel was caught between admiration for the girl’s wit and the strong desire to strangle her. She couldn’t decide which.

“Anyway,” said Rui Ning, “why don’t you find out for yourself?”

She gestured at the store before them. Geriel couldn’t read the words on the plaque—her Putonghua was limited to speech—but from the wooden toys on display, she gathered that they were at the toymaker’s shop. Where it all began.

They made their way to the back alley, careful not to be seen by the toymaker himself. The less people knew they were investigating, the better. “This is where they found Xiaodan,” said Rui Ning, gesturing at a spot on the ground. “From what I heard, he and my brother were headed for the toystore’s back door.”

Geriel crouched to examine the ground for footprints. “Why?”

“My brother’s always been one for trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to steal something from the shop and roped Xiaodan into it.”

Geriel wondered if Rui Ning was ever fazed by anything. She’d been candid about her brother’s disappearance, and now about his thieving tendencies. What a truly strange family.

The Northerner scanned the ground once more. At first glance, there were only two sets of footprints visible in the snow, one larger than the other—the toymaker and Xiaodan’s. But upon closer inspection, Geriel could make out traces of a third set, though these were too random and faint for her to be sure. If only it hadn’t snowed last night.

“What are we looking for?”

“See those footprints?” Geriel pointed them out to Rui Ning. “They could be from last night, but I can’t—”

“What footprints?” Rui Ning squinted.

“There. Don’t you see—”

“No, I don’t. That’s why you’re here, huntress, so you can find things in the snow that don’t exist.”

Geriel glared at Rui Ning, who shrugged and leaned against a wall. “I’ll be here if you need me,” she said.

“I won’t,” Geriel bristled.

Not footprints, then. Geriel would have to look for other traces of an attack—strands of hair, or some blood. She ran her fingers over the wooden beams that supported the buildings, searching for claw marks or dents. If a lion had been here, it might’ve knocked into some of the furniture, since the beast was huge and unaccustomed to human cities. It might leave traces of fur in the snow.

Geriel set to work, combing through that patch of land for clues, while Rui Ning stood by, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Oh, look,” said Rui Ning dreamily. “It’s the cobbler’s son. Finally, some entertainment.”

Geriel glanced up to see Rui Ning admiring a young man farther down the street who was hoisting sacks of grain from a cart. She supposed he had a pleasant face, and even beneath his shapeless hanfu, Geriel could tell his limbs were packed with muscle. But she couldn’t see the appeal. He could be standing shirtless before her and still she wouldn’t care.

“Can you concentrate?” she said to Rui Ning. “Your brother is missing—”

“Which is why I need a distraction.” The boy looked over for a second, and Rui Ning winked at him. He grinned, shyly.

“What?” said Rui Ning defensively. “Are they against flirting in the North?”

“You can flirt the whole day for all I care.”

“You can’t deny that he’s handsome.”

“I can deny whatever I want.”

“Have it your way,” said Rui Ning. Then she skipped away to talk to the boy.

With Rui Ning gone, Geriel could finally focus on the scene. She thought about what she knew: Xiaodan was found here at dawn. In this cold, that must mean he passed out only an hour or two before that, or else he would’ve frozen to death. If it was a human attacker, there must be a weapon. Something blunt, not heavy enough to maim. There were several broomsticks around, but Geriel didn’t think they were used as weapons. The snow around them hardly seemed disturbed at all; they hadn’t been touched for days.

Then there was the possibility that it was a beast, and Xiaodan had fainted out of fright. After all, the boy said he saw something like a lion right before he passed out. But how could an animal hit Xiaodan over the head and leave him there? It didn’t make sense. Animals didn’t think like that. And where were the beast’s tracks leading out of the mountains and into the village?

A faint trace of red in the snow caught Geriel’s eye. She bent closer and scooped it up. Thread. It was a single strand of red thread, half buried in the frost.

“Hey!” Geriel called.

Rui Ning bristled at being interrupted mid-flirting. She batted her lashes at the boy, muttered an apology and rejoined Geriel with a scowl.

“You could’ve timed that better! He was about to ask me out. What did you find?”

Geriel showed her the red thread.

Rui Ning’s brows drew together. “That’s definitely not Ming’s, or Xiaodan’s. In fact, I don’t think any of us in ZhuangXi can afford red clothes. It’s a colour for the nobles. But…”

“But?”

“Who would wear red to snatch a child?”

Rui Ning was right; Geriel couldn’t make sense of it either. There was only one way to find out.

“Take me to Xiaodan,” she said.