Prologue

I was woken by the alternating howls of Fatty and Skinny.

The moon was half-swallowed by cloud, casting a hazy, misty night. In the back courtyard, a cluster of gardenia flowers had been trampled this way and that by some savage force. Under the kitchen eaves, a heap of shattered, moss-covered roof tiles lay scattered on the ground. Fatty and Skinny had shrunken in terror against the wall — Skinny frantically trying to squeeze himself behind Fatty, pushing and shoving, muttering as he went: “The fat ones are tastier! The fat ones are tastier!”

I straightened the lopsided sleeping cap on my head and looked carefully at the enormous creature standing in the open space of the back courtyard —

A lion.

A live one.

It stood less than three meters from me, its immense body possessing the most perfectly sculpted lines ever conceived — composed, powerful, immovable as a mountain. Its long mane billowed in the night wind, and with each steady rise and fall of breath, it quietly proclaimed the arrogance and untameable wildness of the king of all beasts.

The lion’s coat was the color of gold, and it filled my eyes to the brim.

Even the murky night could not diminish its radiance. In the full light of day, under a sky of endless sunshine, this enormous creature before me would command the attention of the entire world.

In the eyes of a tree spirit like me — who harbored a fanatical desire to possess gold — it was not a lion at all. It was a breathing, moving block of gold.

The lion’s eyes were more captivating than the most lustrous obsidian I had ever seen. That deep, heavy black held a force like a whirlpool, as if it could draw the soul of any who met its gaze into a bottomless void.

As a tree spirit who had seen a fair amount of the world, I had encountered no shortage of extraordinary beings and peculiar creatures — yet even I had to admit that this time, I was a little stunned.

A lion this beautiful, with that gold-like dazzling color, those eyes dark as precious stone — could it be that it was…

Wait. Never mind where it came from. Bu Ting was only a dessert shop. I had absolutely no intention of converting it into a zoo.

My shop welcomed only guests who came to enjoy sweets and share a cup of Fu Sheng tea. It did not welcome a lion — least of all a lion that had descended from the sky in the dead of night, shattered my tiles, and trampled my flowers!

The “frozen” lion suddenly shook its head. Its golden mane was like the sun scattering its rays. It seemed to draw in a long breath, and then its gaze locked onto me. Step by step, it began to close in.

That lion’s face grew clearer and clearer. I could even see my own reflection in its eyes. Waves of heat pulsed from its mouth and nostrils, lightly scorching my skin.

Being approached by a living lion was neither amusing nor romantic.

From the sub-zero temperature of its gaze, I could not discern its true intention. I only saw a restlessness clothed in danger, and a particular kind of craving.

It drew nearer and nearer.

Behind me, Skinny scrambled for cover and wailed: “Boss, hold on! We’ll go call 110, 119, and 120 for you!!”

The moon was entirely swallowed by cloud. What little light the sky had left vanished entirely…

1.

On her way home from Dati Restaurant each day, Bai Li Weibu always had to cross a snow-covered forest, making her way alone along the river that was always half-frozen, its surface glinting in the cold. In the spaces between the towering spruce trees, the occasional rustling of some unknown animal would drift through the air.

In the Bucegi mountains in early winter, apart from the constant flow of visitors at the Sinaia resort, everywhere was a vast, magnificent silence.

Today was the twenty-third of December — the last day before Christmas Eve. Bai Li Weibu walked quickly into the depths of the forest with her large backpack, glancing back over her shoulder as she went, alert and watchful.

Before Christmas Eve arrives, she had to see him.

Roxana High School had started its winter holiday the previous week. The day after the holiday began, Bai Li Weibu had gone to work at Dati Restaurant near the resort. The restaurant owner, Rafael, was an amiable, KFC-Colonel-shaped man who always used his booming voice to tell customers that Bai Li Weibu was a Chinese angel sent to him by heaven — clever and beautiful, and above all, diligent.

When people praised her, Bai Li Weibu would smile sweetly and say little else.

The Bai Li family motto was two words: keep a low profile.

Speaking of the Bai Li family — Bai Li Weibu had never really understood her ancestors. She was of pure Chinese lineage; her great-grandfather, her grandparents, her parents — all Chinese. A hundred years ago, the Bai Li family had relocated from China to Romania, settling in a secluded place in the Bucegi mountain region on the outskirts of what was now Sinaia. A three-story Chinese-style house hidden among the forests of Eastern Europe, where they had lived quietly and discreetly for a hundred years. Aside from the necessities of work, school, and shopping, the people of the Bai Li family rarely left the house. For a hundred years, with a quiet, unassuming persistence that no one else knew of, they had kept their watch in this forest called Bi Luo.

The forest’s name had been given by her great-grandfather.

“Searching to the highest heavens and to the depths of the Yellow Springs — in both vast reaches, no trace of her can be found.” Bai Li Weibu knew the name came from a poem by Bai Juyi.

Giving a forest in Eastern Europe a name from ancient Chinese poetry — a peculiar pairing, truly.

From Bai Li Weibu’s birth until now — seventeen years — only three sets of guests had ever come to their home. The one she remembered most vividly was the summer of the year she graduated from primary school: a Chinese woman with black hair falling past her waist, beautiful of face, graceful in bearing, dressed in a black skirt and robe. She sat talking with Bai Li Weibu’s parents, their voices very low — she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Bai Li Weibu frowned at this unfamiliar woman, and in the woman’s bright, flower-like smile she caught a hint of something unsaid.

When the woman left, Bai Li Weibu hid behind the door. She watched her mother grip the woman’s hands tightly, asking with reluctance: “Is there really no other way? We have already lost Weiqi. I’m afraid that in the future… Weibu will end up like her sister.”

She also saw her father — always smiling and gentle — furrow his brows for the first time, and fix the woman with an urgent, desperate gaze, like someone seeking salvation.

“I only came today to see an old friend.” The woman smiled and said lightly, “Since you gave her the name Weibu — the steps yet untaken — let every step of her future be chosen by her.”

Then Bai Li Weibu clearly saw the woman turn back, and with a captivating, deep gaze catch her in the act of peeping. The woman’s pale rose lips moved slightly toward her.

Was she speaking to her? She had only moved her lips — yet a clear voice reached Bai Li Weibu’s ears: “Show your true courage, hunter.”

After the woman left, for a long stretch of time, no outsiders came to their home again. To be more precise, even those who wanted to come couldn’t find it. Bai Li Weibu never invited classmates to visit. There were some curious boys who had secretly tried to follow this Chinese girl home — but every time they followed her, they ended up lost. The moment Bai Li Weibu stepped into Bi Luo, those bewildered boys could no longer see a trace of her. The tall trees seemed to come alive, moving to block their path.

The Bai Li household could not be entered by outsiders.

Because flowing in their veins was the blood of the Centaur clan — born hunters, set apart from the world, existing only for their own destined purpose.

2.

Roxana High School was an unremarkable institution in Sinaia, with no more than a hundred students in total. An ordinary school, ordinary teachers, ordinary students — as uniform as the falling winter snow.

The first time Bai Li Weibu encountered him was on the roof of the main teaching building.

She was skipping class. A blackboard full of formulas and numbers, and a math teacher spitting as he lectured — it was putting her to sleep.

On a late autumn afternoon, hiding on the rooftop to bask in the sun was a fine indulgence. Bai Li Weibu sat with both hands braced on the ground, half-squinting as she tilted her face upward, her feet dangling carelessly outside the railing, swinging with ease.

“If the wind picks up, you’ll fall.”

Beside her, a tall silhouette had appeared at some point, blocking the sunlight that had been coming in from the side. The voice was gentle but still startled her, and the IPOD earphones tucked in her ears were yanked half out when she spun around abruptly.

“Don’t be afraid — I’m not a teacher come to catch you.” The person beside her was watching her with amusement. A pair of eyes with beautiful double eyelids shimmered with a lake-like light, and thin lips curved upward in an appealing arc.

He was Chinese — or at the very least looked East Asian. Under twenty years old, at least one hundred and eighty centimeters tall, wearing a well-cut white shirt and jeans, a pale blue subtly-patterned sweater draped casually over his shoulders, and dark hair that fell to his neck in a natural, slight wave. In the sunlight, threaded through the black were a few strands of reddish-gold — the understated black and the striking gold in perfect balance.

He stood at the edge of the rooftop, steady and upright, speaking in fluent, native-standard Mandarin.

Bai Li Weibu had never known there was any other Chinese person at this school besides herself.

“Who are you?” She drew her legs back and scrambled to her feet, eyeing him with wariness.

“You’re looking at me like I’m a kidnapper.” He turned and stepped toward her, fixing his gaze on her. “Do I look that frightening?”

“Wolves in sheep’s clothing always look handsome!” Bai Li Weibu blurted, backing away as she spoke. “Who exactly are you? Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer! Or I’ll call for help!”

He paid no attention, and instead closed the distance in one swift step, catching her arm with an unexpected tug — and she collided with a warm, broad chest.

Bai Li Weibu blinked, then shoved him away furiously: “You— you creep!” Her face had gone as red as a tomato.

“Better to be called a creep than to watch you fall from a height,” he said, not remotely bothered, his dark eyes showing an obvious patience. He tilted his head toward what was behind her. “See for yourself.”

Bai Li Weibu looked back suspiciously. The railing behind her had broken open a gap at some point, and one more step back would have meant she really was falling from a height.

“You… I…” She wanted to say thank you, but couldn’t bring herself to. Had he not appeared out of nowhere, she would have been perfectly comfortable enjoying the sunshine.

“My name is Cen Kaiwen — everyone calls me Kevin. I’ve just come from China and plan to enroll at Roxana. Today I came to handle the paperwork and take a look around.” He extended a hand toward her in a friendly gesture. “Your name? We’ll be classmates from now on.”

Bai Li Weibu relaxed, her expression a good deal better than before. She gave him a mild reproach: “There are beautiful sights everywhere here — why would you have to come to this wretched rooftop of all places! I’m Bai Li Weibu.”

“The surname Bai Li is very rare.” Cen Kaiwen seemed somewhat surprised, then smiled. “But you’re very cute.”

Was there some inevitable connection between her surname and being cute? This person’s words really didn’t connect with each other. Still, being sincerely told one was cute was always something that made a person happy.

She checked the time, stuck out her tongue at him, and waved a hand: “All right, take your time looking around. Since we’re both Chinese, I won’t hold today against you. If you need any help from a fellow compatriot in the future, just come find me.” And then she hurried down the stairs.

Cen Kaiwen watched her retreating figure with a smile — and the smile, from the moment it solidified to the moment it faded, took very little time.

He walked in silence to the edge of the rooftop and gazed at the outline of the mountain range in the distance, speaking into the air: “I found her. Reaction level zero, resistance level zero, lethal capacity level zero — a hunter who has not awakened at all.”

The sunlight gradually dimmed. The wind that swept toward him lifted the fine strands of hair from his forehead, revealing an S-shaped golden mark embedded there, glowing faintly.

A depth — even an ancient weight — entirely at odds with his age now suffused every line of him, making him a person utterly unlike the one from a moment before…

He drew a breath, and leaped from the rooftop.

3.

Three days in a row, Bai Li Weibu had not run into her new classmate at school — the one called Cen Kaiwen.

Had he chosen a different school? Or fallen ill from the change in climate? Or…

Wait — why was she concerning herself with a person who had nothing to do with her?

Bai Li Weibu shook her hair out, gathered an armful of books, tugged at her bag strap, said goodbye to a few passing classmates, and walked out the school gate with a yawn.

For the third time in her life, their home had visitors: not the beautiful Chinese woman from years ago, but five Chinese people — one white-haired elder, one middle-aged couple, and two young men under thirty — all in traditional Chinese button-front robes, none of them given to smiling.

Her parents received these guests with warmth that was edged with a particular kind of deference.

Looking at them, Bai Li Weibu had a vague sense that they might have come ten years ago as well. She was quite certain she had seen them before. But she wasn’t fully sure — those memories were too blurry.

The five of them had been staying for ten days already, with no sign of leaving, as though they were waiting for something. She asked her parents what these people did and when they were leaving. Her father said only that they were relatives visiting from China, and that they would leave when they had seen enough.

Yet the night after they arrived, when she went up to the attic to fetch something, she caught the sound of raised voices coming from her parents’ room.

“But… all these years, they have kept to themselves.” Her mother’s voice sounded drained.

“Have you forgotten the curse? Look at Weiyu now — do you think your son can survive another ten years? On Christmas Eve, the Nine-Color Sunflower will bloom. We have no choice.” An old, low voice, impossible to disobey.

Bai Li Weibu paused curiously in the doorway, just about to keep eavesdropping — when the door swung open, and the middle-aged woman appeared in front of her with a cold expression.

She gave two idiotic laughs and made a sensible retreat downstairs.

In truth, she had not the slightest interest in their cryptic conversation. For these uninvited guests, beyond the obligatory polite greetings of grandpa, uncle, and auntie, Bai Li Weibu had no further interaction with any of them — she just hoped they would leave soon.

She genuinely did not like these people. Even if her parents called them family.

After leaving school, Bai Li Weibu didn’t go home — she went to a nearby clinic. When she came out, her hands held several bags of red and white pills.

“Are you ill?”

Her view was entirely blocked by a tall silhouette.

“Being so prone to materializing out of nowhere — does that make you fashionable?” She glared at Cen Kaiwen, who had appeared out of thin air yet again. Today he wore a black jacket, black sweater, and black jeans — combined with his build and face, he looked as cool as the personification of Death in a film. Strangely good-looking.

“I haven’t finished my enrollment paperwork yet — I can’t start until next week.” He shrugged helplessly. “I was looking for the Calea Inn at the Sinaia resort and spotted you on my way.”

“The Calea Inn?” Bai Li Weibu was pleased. “Then running into me is your lucky break. The restaurant where I work is only five minutes from Calea Inn.”

“Where is your restaurant?” Cen Kaiwen hesitated. “I’m new here and don’t know my way around…”

“Come on!” Bai Li Weibu clapped him on the shoulder. “Only someone as good-natured as me would personally escort you to your destination.”

He looked at her mischievous, exaggerated expression, paused for a moment, then shook his head with a smile.

The weather had grown increasingly cold. Every pedestrian outside was bundled in thick coats, hurrying home.

Bai Li Weibu led him along, planning to cut straight through the Bi Luo Forest — she had walked this path countless times, and it was the fastest route to the resort.

Their footsteps fell in a regular rhythm on the dried leaves and twigs of the forest trail — crunch, crunch. The sun had already half-set at the horizon, and in the quiet forest, the light had grown dim and shadowed.

“You haven’t answered me yet — are you the one who’s ill?” Cen Kaiwen asked as they walked.

Bai Li Weibu shook her head. “Those are for my little brother. He had a serious illness ten years ago, and his health has never fully recovered. He has to take medicine year-round.”

“How old is your brother?” he asked.

“Four years younger than me — thirteen.”

“That’s hard on him.” He seemed slightly distracted all of a sudden.

“He’s a lovable little medicine jar.” She smiled and tilted her head up optimistically. “There will definitely be a way to cure him.”

The last faint light of the horizon fell through the treetops onto Cen Kaiwen’s face. The dappled shadows concealed the look in his eyes.

4.

Something felt different today. On a shortcut she had walked countless times, Bai Li Weibu got lost.

She led Cen Kaiwen in circles, returning to the same spot no matter which direction they took — always ending up back on that irregular clearing hemmed in by spruce trees of various heights, flanked by a cave and a small lake.

Bai Li Weibu remembered clearly that every time she passed through this clearing, walking east for another twenty minutes would bring Dati Restaurant’s rooftop into view.

But today — why did every turn bring them back here? And with each stretch they walked, the forest fog grew a little thicker. At first it had been a gossamer-thin layer, but now it was as dense as smoke. Standing by the lake, they could see no further than ten meters in any direction.

“I’m just wondering,” Cen Kaiwen stopped walking, gave an awkward cough, “did you take a wrong turn?”

Bai Li Weibu frowned and scratched her head. “Impossible. I’ve walked this path countless times.” She took two steps forward, saying suspiciously, “There shouldn’t be a fog this heavy at this time of day. Something’s very wrong.”

“We’re in trouble.” Cen Kaiwen looked at his watch with resignation. “It’s already half past six.” He lifted his head and looked around, his expression darkening. He suddenly lowered his voice: “I’ve heard people say that after sunset, the forests here might harbor spirits or creatures that work against humans. They use their supernatural abilities to trap people in the forest, making them go in circles, unable to find their way out.”

“There’s another version involving vampires — that particular local specialty of Romania, who like to trap people in forests and then bite their necks when least expected.” Bai Li Weibu turned and made a face at him, deliberately baring her small sharp canine teeth.

“You’re not even scared?” Cen Kaiwen stared at her, one eyebrow raised.

“No.” She nodded quite honestly. “I was born without fear of this sort of thing — demons, spirits, and so on. Strange, isn’t it?” She pursed her lips: “Boys just love to say these things to frighten girls. Boring.”

Cen Kaiwen looked into her crystal-clear eyes and smiled without saying anything.

“Still, I really am stuck now.” Bai Li Weibu let out a long breath. “Whatever the reason, we’re genuinely lost. After dark, this forest is full of dangers. You just arrived — you don’t know how serious it gets.”

“What do we do then? Should we just go back the way we came?” Cen Kaiwen looked at the small path that led into the dense forest, dark and endless, then pulled out his phone.

“You’re not thinking of calling the police?” Bai Li Weibu waved her hand at him. “There’s no signal here.”

Cen Kaiwen ignored her, pressed some buttons on his phone, then held it up high and walked back and forth across the clearing. “I’m trying to use the GPS to pinpoint our location. Hopefully it’ll help.”

But after walking back and forth for a while, he finally lowered his hand in defeat, gave the phone a shake, and muttered under his breath: “Shit — can’t pick up a single satellite.”

“Stop trying. Let’s try a different path.” Bai Li Weibu picked up several small black stones from the ground and arranged them in a triangle at the base of a tree to the left, then turned to Cen Kaiwen: “A marker — that way we won’t walk the same route twice. Come on.”

But thirty minutes later, they were back at the lake again.

The sky had gone completely black. The nighttime forest was as dark as the underworld. A wan sliver of moonlight at the horizon cast everything in a cold, ghostly quality that seemed entirely otherworldly. Cen Kaiwen was breathing slightly hard, and struck a nearby tree trunk with his fist — the irritation he was suppressing could no longer be concealed.

Bai Li Weibu dropped to the ground against a tree, exhausted from the repeated, rapid movement.

“Still not scared?” Cen Kaiwen leaned against the trunk and studied Bai Li Weibu’s side profile in the moonlight — tired but calm — with a peculiar depth in his gaze.

“I don’t have time to be scared.” She stuck out her tongue at him and said plainly, “I led you into this forest. That means I’m responsible for getting you out.”

“That’s quite something.” Cen Kaiwen gave a faint smile. “But what can you do right now? We’ve walked almost every path in this forest.”

A series of piercing animal cries drifted in from varying distances. In a forest like this, they were not the great and powerful rulers of all — they were prey, at constant risk of losing their lives.

Bai Li Weibu stood up, tilted her face to look at Cen Kaiwen — a full head taller than her — and with a shifting expression appeared to make a very large decision. She asked abruptly: “If I told you that hidden in my hand is a bow and arrow that could lead us out of this maze — would you believe me?”

Cen Kaiwen was slightly taken aback, then smiled: “Are you reciting some poet’s lines?”

Bai Li Weibu said nothing. She reached into her bag, took out a small, exquisitely crafted Swiss army knife, and with a click, opened it…

In Cen Kaiwen’s eyes, a flash of gold suddenly passed.

5.

Ten years ago.

Snow — falling thick as goose feathers — covered the entire forest in deep, spreading white from the ground to the sky.

In the Bi Luo Forest, a man and a woman raced at full speed across the accumulated snow.

In their wake, spots of vivid crimson and jade-green stained the snow behind them — bright and alarming.

Behind them, in a place neither could see as they ran, firelight moved, and beneath that firelight, surging figures — every one of them urgent, every one of them fierce.

After a long while, the two came to a stop before the mouth of a vast cave. The woman hurriedly pushed the man toward the cave’s interior, her beautiful face caught between anguish and reluctance: “Leave the rest to me. I won’t let them hurt you!”

“Are you out of your mind? Stay back! I don’t need a woman to protect me!” The man came back out, blood flowing from a torn wound at his shoulder — blood that was green, like flowing liquid jade.

“The Nine-Color Sunflower has bloomed. The Flame Crystal Arrow has come into the world. You cannot be the Centaur clan’s opponent! If they find you, there is only one outcome!” The woman gripped the man’s hands tightly, her face flushed bright red. “Trust me — I will find a way to avert this disaster.”

“No!” The man was absolutely opposed. He clasped both hands around her wrist. “We leave this place. We leave Romania — go somewhere far away!”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears: “Have you forgotten that you cannot leave this forest? You cannot break through the barrier the Bai Li family has set.”

“We’ll try!” The determination and refusal to yield in the man’s eyes were as solid as the Carpathian Mountains.

“I can keep them from hurting you!” The woman grew frantic. “Trust me! Just get through tonight and you’ll be safe!”

“I don’t need that!” The man’s anger erupted.

Neither of the arguing two noticed the two black shadows that materialized behind them.

A dull thud — a lightning-fast blow — and a numbness swept through the man’s neck. His gaze stopped on the woman’s face, and he slowly fell.

A middle-aged couple, draped in black robes, expressionless, took hold of him — or more precisely, firmly restrained him.

“You…” The woman started in shock, then bit her lip and said resolutely: “I’ll handle it. Trust me. He won’t come to any harm.”

The couple paid her no attention. They held the unconscious man and turned away, unwilling to exchange a single word with her. In their eyes: nothing but fury beaten down to grief, and a faint, helpless powerlessness.

“Trust me!”

The snow fell heavier and heavier — heavy enough to swallow the woman’s voice and the sound of her footsteps as she turned and left in the opposite direction.

Two lions with golden coats raced through the forest. Their dazzling color was like the sun fallen to earth. The man draped across the back of one, eyes closed, murmured softly: “Weiqi…”

In the Bai Li household’s basement, a figure slipped in carefully.

The beam of a flashlight swept erratically across the ground as the figure stumbled through a winding corridor and came to stand before a tightly shut wooden door.

A glinting key flickered in the darkness. With a faint jingle, the wooden door creaked open.

A beam of light fell on a platform behind the door — like a small shrine — where a lacquered black, gold-detailed wooden box sat squarely in the center. A layer of blue light moved over its smooth surface like flowing water, lending it a solemn, unapproachable presence.

The figure drew slowly closer. The blue light from the wooden box gradually illuminated a face that was panicked, yet still beautiful.

She stood motionless before the wooden box, and slowly extended her hand…

6.

“Don’t move!” Cen Kaiwen pressed down on Bai Li Weibu’s hand — the one holding the Swiss army knife — and turned his head sharply. “Listen!”

From the underbrush a few meters behind them came a rustling sound and heavy breathing. A faint scent of blood drifted through the cold air.

Their gazes were still searching when a huge dark shape burst suddenly from the undergrowth, landing heavily no more than five meters away. Two eyes, dimly lit with a reddish glow, blinked like two small lamps.

Bai Li Weibu drew a sharp breath. It was a young brown bear — not yet fully grown, but already ferocious enough.

By all convention, these creatures should have been in hibernation by now. As far as Bai Li Weibu knew, the only reason a bear refused to hibernate was insufficient food stores.

In the moonlight, the brown bear rose up with a roar, its massive body twisting strangely in the darkness as it let out bellowing growls.

Bai Li Weibu moved slowly in front of Cen Kaiwen, speaking through her teeth: “Don’t move. When I tell you to run — run, and don’t look back.”

A flicker of surprise passed through Cen Kaiwen’s eyes. After a moment, he tugged the tensed-up Bai Li Weibu and said quietly: “I don’t think it’s here to eat anyone. Look at its left front paw.”

The paw the brown bear had raised high — there was a ring of gleaming iron around it, and on closer inspection, blood-staining as well.

A bear trap!

Bai Li Weibu had seen these crude but effective devices before. In Romania, hunting was entirely legal.

Given the simple mechanical grip force of these contraptions, if it had been a deer or some more fragile animal caught in one, the iron teeth would have gone straight through their limbs or necks.

“It’s just injured.” Cen Kaiwen said gravely, and began to walk toward the brown bear.

Bai Li Weibu grabbed him, hissing sharply: “Are you out of your mind?! An injured brown bear is ten times fiercer than an uninjured one. You—”

The bear sank down with a deflated heaviness, collapsing to the ground like a pile of mud, panting in great heaving breaths, the injured paw trembling painfully in front of it.

Cen Kaiwen paid her warning no heed, shook off her hand, and walked toward the brown bear without hesitation.

At the sight of this approaching human, the fierce creature’s eyes — remarkably — gradually lost their hostility. It stopped its roaring, replaced by a low, mournful whimper from deep in its throat.

Cen Kaiwen walked up to it, and actually crouched to stroke its head — as if soothing it — while murmuring something quietly.

The brown bear grew gradually still, its tongue slowly licking at the wound on its paw.

Every nerve in her body was still drawn taut, yet Bai Li Weibu couldn’t help but find this strange. This bear’s behavior ran entirely contrary to all normal expectations.

“All done now.” Cen Kaiwen crouched down, and as he spoke, he gripped the bear trap that had bitten deep into the bear’s flesh. He furrowed his brows slightly, and with both hands, pulled hard in opposite directions.

A sharp, crisp crack rang out — startling in the quiet of the forest.

The iron trap broke clean apart in his hands and fell uselessly from the bear’s paw to the ground.

Hot blood welled in great quantities from the bear’s wound, staining the hands he had pressed to it red.

The bear let out a low growl — perhaps in pain, perhaps in the wild relief of release. Bai Li Weibu had no attention to spare for that distinction. What occupied her now was this man in front of her — what force, or what courage, had led him to do something so fearless of death.

A single casual swipe of that bear’s paw — as easy as slapping a rubber ball — could take off half his skull. Yet from start to finish, he had not shown a single trace of fear. For someone freshly arrived, a perfectly ordinary person — it defied logic.

He tore a sleeve from the sweater he wore, twisted it into a strip, and wound it carefully around the bear’s wound to stanch the blood.

Only when all of this was done did he ease out a quiet breath and pat the bear’s head. “A strong creature like you — you’ll be fine in a few days. Be more careful in the future. You won’t always be this lucky. Go on now.”

The brown bear shook its head, its heavy body shifting and testing several tries before it placed its front paw back on the ground. Then, limping, it moved toward the forest. A few steps on, it turned back to look at Cen Kaiwen — and in its eyes there was, impossibly, a faint wetness.

Bai Li Weibu was certain she was hallucinating. A wild brown bear that could understand human speech and was capable of crying…

Cen Kaiwen waved it off, gesturing for it to go. His expression showed nothing extra.

When the bear’s shape and scent had both faded into the darkness, Bai Li Weibu took one swift step in front of him and looked directly into his eyes: “Who are you?”

“I’m not a person.” He suddenly grinned. “That answer is probably the most logical one.”

“You—” She was so thoroughly stopped she couldn’t find words.

“Just as you were born without fear of demons and spirits,” he said, retracting the teasing expression and becoming serious, “I was born without fear of these animals. Whether small creatures or fierce beasts, all of them are naturally friendly toward me. Perhaps they sense I have no intention of harming them, and so they have no wariness around me. Animals all have their own intuition.” He gave her a mysterious smile.

“Really?” She was half-convinced.

“We’re both oddities.” He laughed outright, then said, “It looks like we won’t be getting home tonight. Let’s hope we can find a way out when it gets light.”

“Let’s hope we haven’t frozen to death before it gets light.” Bai Li Weibu pulled her coat tighter. “Let’s go to that cave we passed earlier — at least it’s better than standing here like fools.”

Soon, the two of them found a sheltered spot inside the vast cave and sat down. The silence in here was so complete you could hear a pin drop.

“You’re really quite brave.” After a brief silence, Cen Kaiwen gave Bai Li Weibu an approving thumbs-up. “Another girl would have fainted on the spot at the sight of a bear that size.”

“You’re braver still. Not only unafraid — you went and treated the bear’s injuries. I said you seemed reserved and scholarly, and yet your hand strength is remarkable — you crushed that trap with your bare hands!” Bai Li Weibu turned to study him with curious eyes. “How did you manage that?”

“A moment of urgency, I suppose.” He settled comfortably against the stone wall. “Those teeth sunk into living flesh — how much it must hurt. Humans should try it themselves sometime, and then they’d know exactly what that feels like.”

Bai Li Weibu clearly saw a chill pass through his eyes.

He stared at the faint light filtering in from outside the cave and murmured to himself: “All they want is to live quietly in their own home. But even that is not permitted. Humans are constantly doing the work of destroying families and wiping out their kind — felling trees, hunting, relentlessly, without end. How truly loathsome.” He turned his face and looked steadily at Bai Li Weibu, a particular, quiet smile rising on his face. “Don’t you think?”

Bai Li Weibu blinked, then thought about it, nodded, and said softly: “I suppose… it is that way.”

She thought of the local hunters — the ways they trapped and killed the animals of the forest. She thought of how they grabbed prey that hadn’t fully died, still bleeding, and posed for pictures in front of it with triumphant smiles, as if they were the great winners of something. She thought of the brown bear’s mournful cry just now.

Her heart, without warning, felt as though a stone had been placed on it — not pain exactly, but a stifling heaviness.

Between the two of them fell another long silence.

Bai Li Weibu leaned against the cold, hard stone wall as wave after wave of weariness swept over her, impossible to hold back. She could no longer sustain herself, and finally let her lead-heavy eyelids fall shut.

In her dream, someone called her name. A woman’s voice, urgent and sorrowful, calling again and again: Weibu… Weibu.

It made even her, hearing it, feel a sorrow she couldn’t contain.

Her sister, surely — the sister she hadn’t seen in so many years…

Cen Kaiwen watched her as she lay sideways on the ground, already fast asleep. From the cold, she had instinctively drawn herself into a ball, trembling faintly, her small red mouth moving from time to time as she murmured things no one could understand.

He took off his outer coat and laid it quietly over her.

The whole world fell into complete silence. He rose, stepped out of the cave, and returned a moment later, a crimson-red berry in his hand. He set it gently beside Bai Li Weibu. A cool, sweet fragrance seeped from the berry, drifting into her slightly-twitching nose…

7.

“All cause, no effect! All failure, no success!”

The elder frowned, cast a glance at Bai Li Weibu, and left with a sweep of his sleeve.

“I said long ago that the Bai Li family should never have daughters. Your soft-heartedness overruled that.” The middle-aged man spoke with considerable anger toward Bai Li Weibu’s parents. “This branch of yours fled China under the guise of a pursuit a hundred years ago — all to protect the girl child in the womb. And now look what your choices have brought upon yourselves. What they’ve brought upon our entire Centaur clan. Pain, strange illness, even death! Your eldest daughter has already missed one chance, and now even your youngest is… Ah!”

Before he turned to leave, he delivered a cold parting shot to Bai Li Weibu’s father: “This time, it must be done. We are hunters. That is a fact that will never change.”

Bai Li Weibu watched these angry visitors and her parents — standing in silence, expressions complicated, like students who had done something wrong — and understood nothing.

Had she done something wrong? All she had done was get lost and not come home for one night. But wasn’t she standing before them now, perfectly fine? Was there any need to escalate to the level of “all cause, no effect”?

The only strange thing was that when she woke that morning, she had been alone in the cave — Cen Kaiwen was nowhere to be found. She had searched for him urgently in the surrounding area for a good while, but found nothing. Not until she retraced her steps out of the forest and was about to call the police did her phone, now with a signal restored, receive a text from Cen Kaiwen: “Family emergency — had to leave. You sleep like a pig.”

She blinked. The image of Cen Kaiwen’s teasing grin seemed to float up on the phone screen. She stuck her tongue out at that text, and walked home briskly.

Getting home, she sensed the atmosphere was a little off. And then came those inexplicable accusations.

“Mom, Dad — what’s going on? I was trapped in the forest all night, and instead of comforting me you’re letting outsiders point their fingers at me?” Bai Li Weibu rubbed up against her parents with a pout, sniffling in a show of grievance, eyes producing a convincing about-to-cry look.

But this time, her parents did not indulge her the way they always had — patting her head fondly and following up with soothing words.

Her father reached into his jacket pocket, took out a bracelet, and placed it in Bai Li Weibu’s hand.

“Wait — how is my bracelet here?” Bai Li Weibu felt her wrist in surprise. The bracelet her mother had given her for her tenth birthday — a chain strung with a small solid-gold monkey — was supposed to be on her person. This bracelet was her most treasured possession. She never took it off, not even to sleep.

“Come with me.” Her father sighed and turned toward the concealed door leading to the basement.

Bai Li Weibu followed, puzzled.

Their basement was not particularly remarkable — a corridor connecting three rooms arranged in a triangle. Only the room at the far end was normally kept locked. The other two rooms didn’t even have locks. She knew that the locked room contained a small shrine and the ancestral tablets of the Bai Li family’s forebears. Every Lunar New Year, the whole family would go there to light incense — no particularly solemn ceremony. As for the other two rooms, they were even less remarkable: one was packed with books of all kinds, many as thick as bricks and coated in dust; the other housed a handful of unremarkable potted plants that, perhaps from years of being deprived of sunlight, always looked half-dead.

Her father unlocked the innermost room. To be honest, in seventeen years, beyond the annual visit to pay respects, Bai Li Weibu had never come to the basement. Comics interested her far more than those brick-thick books that gave her a headache at first glance, and plants and flowers interested her even less. She had no idea why her father was bringing her here now. The Lunar New Year was still months away.

The room had no electric light — only candles, red ones, standing on either side of the shrine and the wooden platform where the ancestral tablets rested.

Her father lit the candles one by one, speaking in a low, grave voice: “In the early morning hours, a man came to find me with your bracelet in hand. He said that if I did not hand over the arrow-wound antidote before dawn, your life would end at the moment the sun rose.”

Bai Li Weibu’s heart gave a sharp lurch.

“Dad… I… I don’t quite understand.” Her heart began to waver, unsteady as those candleflames.

“What are we?” her father asked, turning to face her, extinguishing the almost-spent matchstick.

Bai Li Weibu paused, then said: “We are… descendants of the Centaur clan. Born… hunters.”

Her father looked at the black ancestral tablets on the platform. “From ancient times, the ancestors of the Centaur clan have been engaged in ceaseless hunting. We are the most valiant and battle-hardened clan in existence. Every branch of the clan is born to be a hunter. The world’s sharpest bows and arrows come into being alongside us.”

“I know,” she said, watching her father’s serious face with care. “One of the most famous figures in Centaur history is Chiron — the origin of Sagittarius in the twelve zodiac signs.”

“Yes. Chiron was the pride of our forebears. And beyond him, our kin are spread across the world. Over time, we have gradually come to resemble true humans in both appearance and nature. Yet the innate courage of the Centaur clan, and the duties we were born to carry, will never change.” Her father continued.

“I know that too.” Bai Li Weibu thought for a moment. “But what does that have to do with why you’ve brought me here?”

“As descendants of the Centaur clan in the east, the greatest enemy our Bai Li family has faced for thousands of years — who is that?” Her father set her question aside and pressed on.

Bai Li Weibu thought briefly, then answered, not entirely certain: “Is it… the Golden Lion People?”

Her father let out a sigh and nodded.

“But didn’t you say the Golden Lion People were exterminated by our clan many years ago?” she asked, puzzled.

“In the early years of the Western Han dynasty, our Bai Li family’s ancestors received imperial orders from Emperor Wu to hunt and kill the Golden Lion People and safeguard the peace of the empire. For a thousand years, the war between the Centaur clan and the lion people never ceased.” Her father’s eyes held wind and frost; every word was soaked in the weight of ages. “Until a hundred years ago, when the Golden Lion People within China had been hunted nearly to extinction. The last remaining few fled to the forests of Romania. And your great-grandfather, under the guise of pursuit, relocated the entire family to the Bucegi mountain region — and within the forest where the Golden Lion People were hiding, laid down a barrier that would prevent the last of his enemies from ever leaving this place.”

These things were being told to her for the first time. In truth, about the entire past of the Bai Li family, all the affairs of the Centaur clan — her parents rarely brought it up in front of her. All these years, she had been living in the world as easily and happily as any ordinary person. Had it not been for today, with her father raising it so solemnly, she might have nearly forgotten her own identity as a Centaur hunter.

“Why only trap them?” Bai Li Weibu’s mind was still clear enough to ask. “Why not simply kill them?”

Her father gave a rueful smile. “I asked your grandfather the same question, long ago. Your grandfather’s expression was exactly the same as mine is now.” He drew a long breath. “The hands of the Bai Li family are stained with the blood of the Golden Lion People. Your grandfather used only two words to describe everything our ancestors did to the lion people: slaughter. Hundreds of years ago — during the reign of Emperor Kangxi of the Qing dynasty — two brothers among the Bai Li family’s ancestors discovered a Golden Lion Person hiding in the capital. Female, transformed into a woman, the wife of a minor local official. She was with child, and on the verge of giving birth…”

His father stopped at that.

“And they still acted without hesitation?” Bai Li Weibu was appalled.

“She begged them — at least spare her child, and do not alarm her husband. He was just an ordinary man, timid but kind-hearted. He didn’t know his wife’s true nature. As long as they let her child be born safely, they could do whatever they wished with her.” Her father’s speech slowed more than it ever had before. “The younger brother’s compassion stirred. He put away his bow and arrows and urged his older brother to leave. But the moment the younger brother turned away — the older brother’s arrow had already struck the woman through the heart.”

Bai Li Weibu’s own heart gave an abrupt lurch.

“Before she died, she cursed the Bai Li family with a hatred deeper than the sea.” Her father’s face flickered in the candlelight, a slight pallor to it. “Many years later, the younger brother said on his deathbed that in all his life, few things had marked him to the bone — but the look in that lioness’s eyes after she was struck by the arrow was something he never forgot, even in death.”

“What… what curse did she lay upon the Bai Li family?” Bai Li Weibu stepped forward and grabbed her father’s hand.

“From that day forward — if the Bai Li family should ever have a daughter born to them, she would inevitably fall in love with the hereditary enemy, the Golden Lion People; she would inevitably meet an ill end; she would inevitably bring misfortune upon those closest to her.” Every word her father spoke was like a blade pressed into flesh.

“This…” Bai Li Weibu felt a ringing in her ears. “And then?”

“The younger brother’s pregnant wife gave birth to a pair of twins — a boy and a girl. The boy was your great-grandfather, and the girl…” Her father said with regret, “When she grew up, she truly did fall in love with a Golden Lion Person, deeply and desperately.”

“Is that the whole curse?” Bai Li Weibu felt a slight easing of the weight in her heart. If it was only that, it didn’t seem so terrible.

“If it were only that, it wouldn’t merit the word curse.” Her father saw straight through her thoughts. “After they fell in love, the entire Bai Li family fell ill with a strange sickness — high fevers, and everything they ate tasted only of bitterness. It was a kind of suffering that went on and on. This lasted three months before it ended. But the youngest child in the Bai Li family at that time — the youngest of her blood siblings — was not so fortunate. He died. When he died, his body had gone translucent, looking like a piece of glass that wasn’t quite clear, light as a feather. When they tried to lift his body, the moment they touched it, the child shattered into countless pieces — like glass dropped on a floor.”

Bai Li Weibu’s breath very nearly stopped.

“After this child died, the calamity fell upon another child in the Bai Li family. His eyes began to turn grey. Everything he ate was tasteless. He was constantly without strength, confined to bed — the exact same symptoms as the previous child.” Her father watched the wavering candleflames. “The curse not only brought suffering to the Bai Li family — it killed the youngest child of the household. And if it was not broken, the people of the Bai Li family would die one by one in order of age.” He shook his head in sorrow. “The Golden Lion People’s curse… is ultimately something we brought on ourselves.”

“Then — how is it broken?” Bai Li Weibu asked urgently.

“The Bai Li family’s daughter — using the Flame Crystal Arrow that appeared once every ten years — killed her beloved. This saved the other child who had been on the verge of death. And she herself ended her life in front of her beloved’s body.” The wax tears of the candle fell drop by drop, pooling on the platform below. Her father said gravely, “That is the method. From that time on, the Bai Li family no longer permitted daughters to be born. And so it came to pass that by your great-grandfather’s generation, under the guise of pursuing the last remaining Golden Lion People, they left China and lived in seclusion here. The purpose was to protect their daughter — so she would not be secretly put to death by others in the Bai Li family on account of the curse.”

Bai Li Weibu felt an ice-cold chill run down her spine. She had never known that beneath the surface of her seemingly simple family, such a bloody and cruel secret lay buried.

“We only set up the barrier here — we don’t hunt this last group of Golden Lion People.” Her father lowered his eyes, smiling at himself with self-reproach. “Because we have always been guilty.”

“Dad…” Bai Li Weibu gripped her father’s hand tightly. Her heart suddenly seized. “Ten years ago — did something happen in our family? That was the year my sister disappeared!”

Her father patted her hand lightly, looking quite helpless. “Guilt or no guilt, the power of that curse remains. Your great-grandfather chose to become ‘neighbors’ with the Golden Lion People — calling it surveillance, but in truth to protect them from being harmed by the Bai Li family again, while also warning his own descendants — especially daughters — not to get close to them. For a long time, our family and the Golden Lion People lived in peace. We even believed, for a while, that the curse might have faded away.”

Bai Li Weibu ran quickly through the events of ten years ago in her mind — the clear ones, the blurry ones — and suddenly a dreadful thought surfaced: “Could it be… that my sister fell in love with one of the lion people?”

“That curse has never disappeared. It hangs like a ghost over the Bai Li family’s people. We have never known when it would strike.” Her father bowed his head in pain. “None of us expected that Weiqi would fall in love with that young Golden Lion Person at first sight. By the time we noticed, it was already too late.” He looked up at his daughter. “You must have very blurry memories of that winter ten years ago, because you had a high fever for a very long time — and your brother Weiyu, from that point on, has been confined to bed ever since.”

“Then my sister…” Bai Li Weibu couldn’t bring herself to believe that the sister who always wore a gentle smile could have killed her own beloved. Yet if she hadn’t, Weiyu would not have survived to now — not according to the pattern of the curse.

“She did not kill him. That year happened to be the day the Nine-Color Sunflower bloomed — this flower, grown from Centaur blood, when the nectar from its core is applied to one of our arrows, the arrow is no longer an ordinary Centaur gold arrow. It becomes a Flame Crystal Arrow — one that can kill a Golden Lion Person upon contact, and only this kind of arrow can truly kill one. The potency of the Flame Crystal Arrow lasts twenty-four hours. That winter, clanspeople brought from China launched another hunt, under the name of saving your brother. But your sister — using her own blood — had laid all manner of obstructing barriers throughout the forest, buying time. By the time we found the lion person, it was already the following evening. The Flame Crystal Arrow’s potency was almost exhausted. In that razor’s-edge moment, several Flame Crystal Arrows shot toward their target were blocked by another Golden Lion Person who leaped out of nowhere — his mother. In the end, we lost the chance to capture and kill him, and we lost Weiqi. She disappeared.” Her father looked at the ancestral tablets standing in the shadows. “They extracted blood from the lioness and cut from her flesh, combined it with various medicinal herbs, and brewed a medicine for Weiyu. Although this remedy could not cure the root cause, it could at least sustain Weiyu until ten years later, when the Nine-Color Sunflower would bloom again and the Flame Crystal Arrow would reappear — and killing the one at the source of it all would then completely break the curse’s power.” Complex light glimmered in his eyes. “This year’s Christmas Eve — is again the day the Nine-Color Sunflower blooms.”

Bai Li Weibu sank to the floor, murmuring: “Why… have you never told me any of this…”

“It is not anything good to know.” The guilt in her father’s voice was deep. He sat down beside her. “Your mother and I only ever wanted you to live like ordinary people. But… the fate of the hunters, the curse of the lion people — these have left us with no alternative. We can only face them.”

“That person — that lion — is he still in the forest?” Bai Li Weibu suddenly asked.

Her father gave a rueful smile: “Silly child. The one who brought your bracelet to me this morning — that was him.” He paused. “The Nine-Color Sunflower is almost in bloom, and the clanspeople have arrived as expected. On the day after their arrival, while they were ‘wandering’ through Bi Luo, they encountered a young female Golden Lion Person — likely his sister or older sibling — and shot her with an arrow. While an ordinary arrow cannot kill her, our Centaur clan’s arrows carry extraordinary power from birth. Once struck by one, the pain throughout her body is unbearable — unless she is treated with our family’s exclusive arrow-wound antidote, she will be in agony that makes death seem preferable.”

“So what you mean is — he used my safety as leverage to negotiate the antidote from you?” Bai Li Weibu understood in a flash. That “classmate” who had descended from nowhere, their “chance encounter” — it had all been a scheme with ulterior motives.

“If I’ve guessed correctly, he lured you into the forest, used the golden lion people’s spiritual power to create an invisible barrier that kept you going in circles and prevented you from getting out — and equally prevented us from finding you — and then while you slept, took something from your person to bring to me and demand the arrow-wound antidote.”

“Did you give it to him?” Bai Li Weibu asked in a low voice.

“I gave him one vial.” Her father nodded. “I have already lost Weiqi. I cannot let anything else happen to you.” He turned his face away. The soft lines that always characterized his expression went cold and hard. “When necessary, I will do what I would otherwise be unwilling to do. I don’t want to continue the Bai Li family’s mistakes — but I must protect my family.”

“Dad…” Tears began to well slowly in Bai Li Weibu’s eyes. She laid her head in her father’s lap, the way she had when she was small.

The candles had burned down by more than half. In the room’s silence, the gently flickering candlelight enclosed the two — father and daughter, leaning on each other — in a picture of infinite calm before the storm.

The wooden box on the shrine flowed with light, like a solemn, divine eye regarding them.

“Could there really be no other way… besides killing…” Bai Li Weibu’s head felt very heavy. In the murmur of her thoughts, all she could see was that person’s teasing smile as he watched her, the focused care he showed when bandaging the bear’s wounds, and the subtle, concealed sorrow he carried in the cave…

The scent from his clothing still lingered on her.

Even though he had deceived her — she could not bring herself to hate him. Truly.

8.

“I knew you’d come looking for me.”

He dropped from a tall boulder, still dressed all in black. The wind lifted his hair, and the S-shaped golden mark on his forehead was particularly vivid.

Bai Li Weibu looked directly at his face, and actually smiled: “Your name was fake too, wasn’t it.”

“I really am called Kevin. Cen Kaiwen was made up.” His teeth were as white as shells, the same mischievous grin in place, as though everything that had happened before had never occurred.

“You’re not afraid I’ll kill you?” She suddenly extended her clenched right fist and opened it. On her palm, a bleeding gash bled outward, and from it scattered glittering points of light like fireflies. In an instant, these gathered into a bow and arrow of formidable presence. She notched the arrow and drew the bow — the motion as practiced and instinctive as a reflex — the sharp arrowhead pointed directly at his heart.

He still smiled, and neither dodged nor moved.

“The bow and arrow born alongside the Centaur clan — even the faintest trace of an enemy’s scent will guide it toward the direction of that enemy, and it can also break through certain kinds of mazes that people deliberately construct.” She said each word clearly and deliberately. “Now I finally understand why you stopped me that day when I was going to cut my palm and use my bow to find a way out.”

He said nothing, watching her quietly.

In the trees to one side, a commotion, and a golden-coated lion leaped out, limping, its obsidian eyes glinting with hostility.

“What are you doing out here? Your wounds aren’t healed yet.” He walked to her side, speaking with mild reproach.

“I came to take a look at another member of the Bai Li family — the one planning to put that bow to good use again.” The lion’s voice was filled with anger, yet it remained a clear, soft, pleasant girl’s voice. “Brother — you didn’t have to go through all that trouble finding them for the arrow-wound antidote on my behalf. I’m not afraid of pain.”

Bai Li Weibu lowered the bow and arrow. With a movement of her palm, the bow and arrow dissolved back into light, shooting with a swift sound back into her palm, and the wound there healed rapidly, leaving only a faint reddish mark.

“I’m a hunter — but I don’t want to hunt.” She pulled his outer coat from her backpack and tossed it to him. “Your things — don’t go leaving them around. If one of my relatives got their hands on it, they could track you down easily.”

“Thank you.” He smiled brilliantly.

His sister was still wary, tilting her proud chin upward: “You came all this way just to return a coat?”

Bai Li Weibu produced a small black vial, stepped forward, and handed it to him. “My father only gave you one vial of arrow-wound antidote. I looked it up — this medicine is extracted from dozens of plants in our basement, and a fresh vial must be prepared each day. To heal an arrow wound, it must be taken continuously for twelve days. I’ll bring you a vial every day from now on.”

He was slightly taken aback. His lion sister’s mouth opened in half-disbelief as she watched her.

“Don’t worry — my relatives won’t find out.” Bai Li Weibu slung her backpack back on. Before she turned to leave, she said: “I’ll find a way to break the barrier the Bai Li family put on this place, and let you leave. Go as far as you can.”

“Aren’t you part of the Bai Li family?” the lion called out. “Why would you do this?”

She turned her head sideways: “Christmas Eve is when the Nine-Color Sunflower blooms. They’ve been waiting ten years for this day. This time, it’s not only my relatives — even my father won’t let you go. Weiyu’s condition is getting worse. My father would not watch his son die — just as your mother, back then, stepped forward to take the Flame Crystal Arrows meant for you.”

“As long as I am alive, your brother will die.” He said it quietly.

Bai Li Weibu bit her lip, said nothing, and left without looking back.

“Perhaps the Bai Li family isn’t entirely made up of bad people…” The lion watched her retreating figure, then looked up at the small vial in her brother’s hand, murmuring: “She’s much better than that sister of hers. That cowardly woman — in the end, she deceived you and never came back.”

“Old stories. No need to speak of them.”

He smiled. In his hands, the cold vial took on a little warmth.

9.

For ten consecutive days, Bai Li Weibu vanished from school after the first class of the morning.

During this time, in front of her family, she carried on as if nothing had changed. The conversation she and her father had had in the basement seemed to have been nothing more than an old, compelling story she had listened to. Bai Li Weibu was still Bai Li Weibu — reading comics, listening to music, going to school and coming home.

But the moment she stepped into the forest and onto those paths as familiar to her as her own two hands, the first thing on her mind was how to truly break that cruel curse. Killing the lion people appeared to offer salvation to the Bai Li family — but that was only temporary. The curse itself would still exist, still blight the Bai Li family’s people.

According to what those “relatives” of theirs said, as long as every Golden Lion Person in the world was killed, the curse would inevitably disappear along with them. But would that method actually work? And even if it would — Bai Li Weibu could not stand by and watch them carry it out.

She didn’t know whether what she was doing now was right or wrong. All she knew was that before Christmas Eve, she had to find the true method — the one that would completely break the curse.

Today was the day of the last vial of medicine.

Bai Li Weibu hurried toward the clearing in the forest where they had encountered the bear. These past days, she and he had arranged to meet there. His sister had been taking the medicine, and her injuries had healed nearly completely. The way she looked at Bai Li Weibu now carried no more hostility.

As she drew close to the clearing, she could see the small lake at its edge — a thin layer of ice had formed at its border, framing the blue surface and scattering fine, glittering points of light in the sunlight.

A gentle song drifted from the lakeshore.

She stopped, and let her gaze pass through the tree trunks —

It was him, seated on a smooth stone by the water’s edge, one hand holding a sketchpad, the other holding a brush, moving across the paper in focused attention. Shafts of sunlight fell from above at an angle, as if sketching a pair of wings across his back, and even the handsome face looked more luminous than usual.

A few deer and a wild rabbit stood quietly around him. A bird she couldn’t name had settled on the open part of the stone, head tilted, singing a few notes from time to time, as if in answer to his song.

Yes — he was singing. The melody was like a river flowing through the forest, soft and winding.

She couldn’t quite make out the words, only sensed that the tune itself was truly beautiful.

Sunlight, song, and his tranquil expression — they made even the hard stone beneath her seem to soften.

This was the enemy that the Bai Li family had spent a thousand years trying to hunt to extinction?

This was the monster they spoke of — evil through and through, feeding on humans, able to take human form and disturb the mortal world?

Bai Li Weibu felt a sharp pain pulse through her mind.

“You paint too?” When she handed him the medicine, she glanced curiously at the sketchpad resting on the stone.

“Something to pass the time.” He looked at the gently sun-flushed cheeks of her face and said sincerely: “Thank you. Whatever happens next — I’m deeply grateful to heaven for letting me meet you.”

“Go on now. Leave what comes next to me. I will definitely find a way to break that curse.” She stuck out her tongue at him in a show of easy lightness.

He responded with a smile, waved at her, then suddenly said: “The way you look when you’re asleep — you really do look exactly like a little pig. And you drool. Truly ugly.”

“You—!” Her delicate brows shot up.

He burst out laughing, turned, and vanished into the dense forest.

Watching the direction he disappeared in, the smile on her face faded slowly.

She still hadn’t found a way. Her family’s decision was harder than rock — they were only waiting for the Nine-Color Sunflower to bloom, and then they would act.

He had left behind the sketchpad. The mountain wind that swept through turned its pages with a rustling sound.

She stepped forward and picked it up. On the white paper, a young woman holding a bow and arrow stood at the edge of a river. A singing bird spread its wings on her shoulder. Sunlight fell through the gaps between the high spruce trees, and in the distance, a man’s figure was sketched in a few light strokes, as if gazing toward the woman. He had not drawn her face — only left a blank outline.

In the empty margin of the page, several lines of beautiful Chinese characters had been written:

If we meet, I have forgotten the words — do you still remember the melody? If we meet, I gaze through the fading light — will you light the lamp? If we meet, and I walk toward you — would that be all right?

This must have been the song he was just singing. Bai Li Weibu suddenly felt a sting behind her nose.

Golden Lion People, of all things — and what they truly want is nothing more than a peaceful, ordinary life.

10.

Christmas Eve was only two days away.

Everywhere was brimming with the atmosphere of the holiday.

School had already let out for the winter break, but Bai Li Weibu still went to work at Dati Restaurant every day — to give herself a pretext for her whereabouts.

Each day after work she went to find Kevin and his sister, bringing along some medicinal herbs to aid recovery of tendons and bones. Though the sister’s arrow wound had healed, she was still not fully mobile.

The truth was — she wanted to see him.

It was perhaps laughable: as a hunter, she had fallen in love with her own quarry.

If this was the work of the curse, Bai Li Weibu might even have found herself grateful for its existence.

But she still had not found a way that could both break the curse and save her brother, while also keeping him safe. She had searched through every book in their home and discovered that the barrier her great-grandfather had laid could only be undone by a male member of the Bai Li family. At present, only her father could do it. And her father would never break it to let him go free.

She was now almost entirely out of options. She had even considered using sedatives against those relatives — the Nine-Color Sunflower only bloomed for one day, and if that window passed and no Flame Crystal Arrow could be made, they would have to wait another ten years.

But what about her brother? He could not hold on much longer.

He was her parents’ only son.

Her head ached so sharply it felt about to split — and still she had no way out.

She trudged home dejectedly, her eyes holding only one color: grey, a dead and hollow grey.

On the quiet road, she walked with her head bowed, heavy with thought.

From the thicket behind her came a strange sound — like something passing through, or the beating wings of a bird taking flight.

Bai Li Weibu wrenched herself abruptly from her daze and turned back sharply.

Lately, she had often had this feeling — that between the densely standing trees, a pair of eyes hovered in and out of sight, watching her. Occasionally there was even the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow, but it always fell silent before she could turn around.

But this time, when she looked back, she was startled.

A frail figure stood behind her, wrapped in a thick black overcoat, the hood pulled down so far that it covered most of the person’s face, revealing only pale lips and a rough-skinned chin — impossible to tell whether the figure was male or female.

“Can I help you?” she turned and asked, a little on guard.

“The Nine-Color Sunflower is about to bloom…” The figure spoke slowly. From the voice, it was an aged woman.

Bai Li Weibu startled immediately. No one outside the Bai Li family would know of the Nine-Color Sunflower.

“The true method to break the curse — it does exist.” The old woman stood completely still, like a dried-out tree stump.

“Really?!” Bai Li Weibu stepped forward without thinking, her heart leaping with a joy not unlike seeing the deity who could save the world.

“Don’t come closer!” The other party retreated hurriedly by a few steps. “Just listen!”

She halted at once, not daring to take another step.

“In the Bai Li family’s basement, there is a shrine — and on it, a wooden box…”

The old woman’s voice drifted in and out through the sound of wind and snow, now faint, now clear…

“This is the true method to break the curse. The lion who laid the curse did not leave behind no means of undoing it. Only, to this day, no woman of the Bai Li family has been able to accomplish it. The parents have always known, but would never say.” The old woman’s voice suddenly became somewhat choked. “Back then, in the end, I did not have the courage to open it… A hunter who loses her courage is a hunter who has lost her soul. Her body will age rapidly as a consequence, until death takes her.”

Bai Li Weibu’s breath seemed to freeze in the cold air.

“You are…” She went to the old woman, as if out of her mind, heedless of everything, and seized both of her arms. “Are you my sister? Are you Weiqi?”

A few drops of tears fell from beneath the hood onto Bai Li Weibu’s hands.

“Ten years — I hid myself away. Because of my own cowardice, I lost him, and I lost myself. I often stood in the distance and watched the lights in our home. I watched you grow a little bigger each day, and I knew when you met him… But I no longer had the face to return to the Bai Li family, and even less the face to go before him.” The old woman slowly lifted the hood, exposing a face worn dark and lined by wind and frost to Bai Li Weibu. Yet in the familiar shape of those brows and eyes — unmistakably — was her sister who had been missing for ten years: Bai Li Weiqi.

“Sis…” Tears broke from Bai Li Weibu’s eyes. “Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?!”

“Don’t tell Mom and Dad I came to find you.” Bai Li Weiqi pulled her hood back into place. “I know people have come to the house, and I know what they intend to do. I’ve already lost the most vital thing a person of the Centaur clan can possess — my courage. Now I’m just a useless, ordinary person. Weibu — treat me as dead. Let me keep this last shred of dignity.”

“Sister!” She grabbed hold of Bai Li Weiqi and shook her head desperately.

“I hesitated over whether to tell you this method.” Bai Li Weiqi looked at her younger sister. “In the end, I still came to find you. The women of the Bai Li family carry the blood of the Centaur clan. We are born hunters. Courage is our soul — lose it, and we are nothing but an empty shell.” She drew Bai Li Weibu’s hands down and let a smile bloom at the corners of her mouth. “What I couldn’t do back then — I hope you will accomplish.”

Having said that, she left Bai Li Weibu standing dazed in the wind and snow, and walked swiftly away into the deepening dark. The snow instantly covered her tracks, as if she had never appeared before Bai Li Weibu at all.

11.

She stripped off the increasingly cumbersome down coat and went light, moving quickly through the forest.

Only a few hours remained until Christmas Eve.

At the usual spot, she spotted him from a distance, waiting there.

“Did you come to say Merry Christmas?” he smiled at her with ease.

“Give me your hand.” She seized his hand before he could respond. Her other hand was already raised, holding the small knife, which she brought down across his fingers. Green-tinged blood trickled from between them.

She dropped the knife, lowered her head, and drew from the wound with her lips.

“What are you doing?” He watched her with puzzlement, then said with amusement: “Don’t tell me you’re switching careers to become Romania’s famous local specialty.”

Bai Li Weibu raised her head and swallowed — his blood — firmly.

“Who’s to say — being a vampire is quite stylish.” Her chest rose and fell heavily. She grinned at him, satisfied, and wiped her mouth clean.

“What on earth is going on with you?” He grew suddenly serious.

“Delivering a Christmas gift.” She replied with equal seriousness, then produced a paper box from her backpack and placed it in his hands.

He reached to open it, but she stopped him.

“Hold me,” she said, tilting her face upward, her smile warm and luminous.

He hesitated for just a moment, then drew her into his arms.

The snow fell thicker. The lake nearby had iced over, reflecting a strange and beautiful light. Every falling snowflake was like a living spirit, dancing gracefully in a silent melody only they could hear.

“Sing me that song from that day. I thought it was so beautiful. Call it your Christmas gift to me.” She held him tightly, her face buried in the warmth of his broad chest.

He smiled, held her a little closer, and quietly began to hum the familiar melody.

If we meet, I have forgotten the words — do you still remember the melody? If we meet, I gaze through the fading light — will you light the lamp? If we meet, and I walk toward you — would that be all right?

“I…”

A long time later, when the song had already drifted far away, he opened his mouth — and she covered it with her hand.

“Some loves may have to end before they’ve even begun.” She raised her face. All one could see were reddened eyes. The tears had been quietly wiped away, but she was still smiling brilliantly. “Even so — I love you.”

She stood on her toes and pressed her lips lightly to his.

“That was my first kiss, by the way!” Before she turned and ran, she looked back at him with a mischievous face.

He stood holding the box she had given him, a little dazed, watching this girl who had arrived so suddenly and left so suddenly.

He gave a rueful smile. She was right — some loves had to end before they had even begun.

She had come to say goodbye to him. That was what he thought.

And indeed — once this Christmas Eve had passed, everything would be over.

He had already prepared himself.

12.

The midnight bell rang.

Christmas Eve had arrived.

Bai Li Weibu stood before the shrine, gazing absently at the wooden box with its flowing blue light.

Her sister’s words were still fresh in her ears —

Inside the wooden box was a lion pelt belonging to a Golden Lion Person. If a woman of the Bai Li family drank the blood of her beloved and then donned this pelt, she would transform into a Golden Lion Person identical to her love — indistinguishable even to her own family. As long as she took in her place the Flame Crystal Arrow from her own family’s hands, the curse would be completely broken.

Donning the lion pelt meant relinquishing her identity as a member of the Centaur clan and becoming a stand-in for her beloved. Of course, it also meant surrendering her own life.

Ten years ago, Bai Li Weiqi had ultimately not had the courage to open it. Before her, no one had managed it either.

Bai Li Weibu drew a deep breath and reached her hand toward the wooden box. On her face was a smile of quiet, settled relief…

13.

On the following morning, on the highest rock of the Bi Luo Forest, a golden lion stood tall. The sunlight after the snow’s end fell upon it, and in that miraculous radiance, it lifted its proud head and gazed at somewhere in the sky above.

Through the forest, a group of men and women holding bows and arrows ran at full speed.

“There it is! I saw it ten years ago!” The elder leading them moved with remarkable swiftness for his age.

In the lion’s eyes, one familiar face appeared after another.

The last among them was her father. He did not share the others’ excitement. His two straight brows were deeply furrowed.

Watching them come, the lion lowered its head quietly and waited with composure.

In its heart, it began to hum a song.

On another part of the forest, he sat quietly in a snow-laden spruce, opening the gift she had given him.

It was the painting he had left behind that day.

Only, after the lines he had written, several neat, delicate rows of characters had been added:

If we meet, you have forgotten the words — I will remember the melody. If we meet, you gaze through the fading light — I will light the lamp. If we meet, please walk toward me. If not in this life, then the next.

A sharp arrow flowing with nine colors of light — its shaft and arrowhead as clear as crystal — carved a blazing red trail through the air, flying toward the lion on the rock…

Can lions smile? Do you believe it?

And yet the one on that rock — was smiling.

Epilogue

“So this thing wasn’t here to eat anyone after all… Why didn’t it just change into human form from the start — nearly scared us to death!” Skinny and Fatty crouched outside the door, alternating between peering into the room and whispering to each other in their shameless way.

This was the first time I had ever invited someone in for tea in the middle of the night — and this “someone” was a rare variety nearly vanished from the world: a Golden Lion Person.

“You want me to ask the King of the Underworld for help?” I took a sip of milk and yawned. “You’ve got quite a set of lungs on you — a lion’s roar, indeed.”

He leaned slightly forward. “I know you have a close private friendship with the current Queen of the Underworld. You even wrote an autobiography for her called My Husband Is Not Human.“

I choked and coughed, protesting repeatedly: “That was ages ago. And that’s a completely separate matter from this.”

“In all the world, the only one who governs life and death and reincarnation is the King of the Underworld. And you are the only one who can help me.” He bowed his always-proud head, took a sip of Fu Sheng, and smiled: “Truly bitter. But within my tolerance.” He looked at me with earnestness. “I know you also have dealings with the Bai Li family. And you saw Weibu when she was little…”

“Compared to the pain of not being able to find her, the taste of this tea is nothing,” I interrupted him, smacked my lips, and licked the milk from the corner of my mouth. “Who broke the barrier? I really should give that person a thrashing — letting you out to stomp my flowers flat.”

He set down his teacup. “Weiqi came back. She told everything. Her father broke the barrier. The old enmity between the Bai Li family and the Golden Lion People has come to an end.” He paused. Between his brows there was a quiet relief. “And Weiyu — he can kick a football now. If she knew, I imagine she’d be very happy.”

“Were the Golden Lion People really human-eaters, once upon a time?” I had a habit of asking entirely off-topic questions.

“Well…” He nodded. “But we only ate the wicked and the vile.”

“It seems I’m not the only one who has a fondness for gold,” I said with a sly smile. “So the real reason you all became quarry was not how many people you ate — it was the amount of solid-gold bone you carried inside your bodies. That was the true quarry the hunters were after, including all those relatives of Bai Li Weibu who traveled so far from home. Whether saving anyone was real — finding your gold was the genuine motive.”

If my memory was correct, ancient records stated: Golden Lion People — beneath skin and flesh, bones of red gold throughout, priceless beyond measure. From antiquity, those seeking them have been many. Capable of human form, a golden mark on the brow, hidden among the mortal world.

He smiled bitterly and shook his head. “It’s not only us. Whatever humans find desirable, they will find a way to take it. Like fur coats — they peel the skin from other animals. Like wanting to treat their own ailments — they cage bears to extract bile. Like satisfying appetite — they bludgeon innocent cats and dogs to death while still alive.”

I quietly drank the last of my milk, stood, and said: “It’s too late tonight. I must sleep. You go on back.”

He did not move.

“Of course, you may choose to repair my rooftop before you leave.” I walked straight toward the door. Before stepping out, I turned back. “Leave your phone number.”

He was startled, and then said happily: “All right!”

One week later, I sent Kevin a text message — the content was a single address, in a small country an impossibly long distance away. In a particular household in a particular part of a particular street there, a baby girl had just been born.

I set down my phone and opened my computer. In my blog, I wrote a passage of quite simple words:

Courage without wisdom is recklessness. Courage without tolerance is stubbornness. Courage without love is brutality. If one is truly brave — one will don a lion’s pelt for another. If one is truly brave — one will turn the Centaur’s sharp arrow to point at oneself. You were a truly brave hunter, Weibu.

Several months later, I received an enormous parcel.

Inside was a solid-gold sculpture roughly the size of two fists — a lion standing proud on a rock, and beside it, a girl holding a bow and arrow.

All I did was make a phone call to an old friend for a piece of information — and I earned a gold piece this large. I could not stop smiling.

I thought I would put this sculpture in the most visible spot I had.

Even though I am only a tree spirit, I too am a Sagittarius.

I think that every one of us — every person, or every spirit — needs true courage.