Prologue

“Setting up your stall here, you won’t earn a single coin,” I said, munching on an apple, addressing the stubborn old man before me.

“Jiang Taigong went fishing with a straight hook, didn’t he?” The old man stroked his three-inch white beard and grinned at me, revealing a gap where two front teeth had once been. “Those who need my guidance will naturally come to find me.”

The afternoon sunlight of five o’clock spilled down, dazzling my eyes and blurring the old man’s features. He was already quite dark-complexioned, and dressed in deep navy clothing — the whole of him seemed like a shadow within a shadow.

He must have been close to eighty. The wrinkles on his face were deep enough to strangle mosquitoes. He had been sitting unmovably behind that small table since the day before yesterday, steady as Mount Tai. On the table stood a small paper sign bearing a single character — Divination.

I meant well. Fortune-telling — that kind of business belongs in a place teeming with people. Setting up shop directly across from Bu Ting’s entrance, with nothing behind him and no one ahead, in a quiet and deserted alley on the cusp of autumn’s chill — it all felt utterly desolate. Wanting to make money here? Pure fantasy.

“Doesn’t it feel too quiet here?” I smiled and glanced around. “This alley only has Bu Ting, and even our guests have been dwindling lately. No one will come looking for you.”

The old man smacked his lips, his somewhat cloudy eyes gazing at me with an expression somewhere between a smile and not: “Ah, exactly — it’s too quiet. I ask you, proprietress, don’t you feel it? This world has become far too quiet.”

“I don’t like noise. Quiet is good,” I shrugged. Instinct told me this old man was no ordinary charlatan — he had no interest in money.

“Isn’t there an old saying — before a storm arrives, everything goes especially quiet?” The old man laughed and coughed at the same time. “Three more months and it’ll be December.”

“So 2012 is coming fast,” I said with a teasing smile. “Then you’d better hurry up and earn your money.”

“If the world’s going to be destroyed anyway, what use is money?” The old man’s eyes crinkled shut with laughter.

I braced both hands on his table and leaned close to his aged face. “I never believed in 2012. The only thing that can take everything away is time. This world is still very young.”

The old man fixed his gaze on me for a long moment, then his eyes swiveled with amusement, and he chuckled: “We have an affinity, you and I. Let me read your fortune for free.”

Since it was free, why not? Those bark-like old hands cradled my right palm, his gaze becoming careful and sharp as it traveled along each of my lines. In under half a minute, he released my hand and parted his withered lips to speak: “Lost and regained, gained and lost again. A tall tree catches the wind — where will your peace be found?”

I let out a hum from my nose. “Saying something so vague just because you’re not getting paid!” With that, I turned and walked away.

There was no sound from behind me. Just before entering Bu Ting, I glanced back — the old man sat motionless in his spot, gazing in my direction with that same half-amused expression. A great gust of wind swept through, and the lanterns beneath the eaves suddenly lost their usual dignified stillness, swaying wildly.

The moment I stepped inside, I collided squarely with Young Master Zhao, who was rushing out in a hurry. I looked up — this big fellow had a bundle slung over his shoulder, every bit the picture of someone running away from home.

“I’ll go look for them! Otherwise I won’t be at ease,” he explained to me, though he was never one for many words.

“How will you go? Can you transform? Can you fly through the sky and burrow through the earth? Mark my words — the moment you step out of Bu Ting’s front gate, those monks and Daoist priests will haul you in!” I pulled the bundle off his shoulder. “Go cook!”

“Proprietress…”

“Go cook!”

Young Master Zhao had always been the most honest and obedient sort — even with ten thousand objections, he still sulked his way back to the kitchen.

I knew she was the kindest and least troublesome helper in Bu Ting. I was very fond of this big fellow who spoke little, preferred cooking and housework, and loved reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms — and so I would not send him into any danger that might be waiting out there.

Danger — I had used that word so naturally without even thinking.

I walked to the window and sat down. The sunlight that had been there just moments ago had disappeared without a trace. Rain began to fall, pattering against the rooftop and the leaves — the scattered autumn rain, paradoxically, made the world fall into a strange and eerie silence.

This world has become far too quiet — the old man’s voice came back to me. And indeed it was quiet: pedestrians were scarce on the streets and alleys alike, and here in Bu Ting, only I and Young Master Zhao remained.

Ao Chi had not returned. It had been a full month since the timestamp on his last text message to me.

The bowl — Thousand-Year-Old — who had taken leave also had not returned. I supposed that wandering spirit, who loved drifting about like a Gypsy, had perhaps found somewhere more entertaining than Bu Ting.

Chi Pian’er had not returned either. Though that mischievous, gossip-loving creature had a history of sneaking off and not coming back, never had any absence lasted this long — it had been a week already.

As for Ao Chi, there was simply no way to reach him. I had quietly gone searching along the route he might have taken, even traveling to the shores of the East Sea — but I could not find that mysterious East Sea Dragon Palace. All that met my eyes was an expanse of vast ocean. That day, too, it had been raining. I stood alone on the cliffside by the shore, utterly at a loss. With that seasoned runaway’s track record of deliberate disappearances, I suppose I ought to wish him dead and gone somewhere out there.

As for Chi Pian’er, that little demon flitted about like a fly everywhere — it could be hiding in any crack in any door, and I’d never find it. Every single one of the eccentric characters living in Bu Ting was more trouble than the last!

Lost and regained, gained and lost again — staring at the emptied Bu Ting, the old man’s words came and went through my mind.

Smack!

Just as I was lost in thought, a small flower vase sitting on the table toppled over for no reason, spilling water all across the surface. If my hand hadn’t moved fast enough, it would have rolled off and shattered.

I held the vase tight, suppressing my rising fury, and glared fiercely at the opposite end of the table: “How long do you intend to keep drifting around inside Bu Ting?!”

“Oh? You can see me?” came a very surprised voice from thin air.

I set the vase back in place and addressed the empty air: “I don’t need to see you. Anyone who enters Bu Ting — I know. You drifted in three and a half hours ago and have been sneaking around ever since!”

“Wonderful — just as the legends described.” The voice from the air said, “I’ve been observing you this whole time. I could tell your mood was bad. So I’ve been deliberating on how to open a conversation with you.”

“Open a conversation, my foot! Either pay and check in, or get out.” I calmly erupted. “Don’t think that just because you’re a dead spirit, I won’t dare hit you!”

An icy, insubstantial draft slid across the back of my neck, and the voice drifted to my ear: “Even if you hit me, I won’t yield.”

I scratched at my ear, itching from the draft, and jumped aside: “What in the world do you want?!”

“Help me!”

“No!”

“Then I’ll keep drifting!”

The expensive crystal chandelier above me began swaying violently. If it came crashing down, my heart would shatter along with it.

I raised my head in fury…

Part One

A certain city. Summer, 1932.

In a small room, a white-haired elderly man trembled as he clutched a wine bottle, tears streaming down his face as he faced the person seated in a chair: “Give it back to me! Give it back to me right now!”

The room had no lights. The distant glow of neon signs outside the window seeped in, casting an illusory light on the figure in the chair — making their features even harder to discern.

“How can I give back something that no longer exists,” came an indifferent voice, entirely unmoved.

“I don’t care — if you won’t return it, I’ll burn you to death! Burn you to death, you monster!” The old man raised the bottle higher. “This is specially-made fire oil — the moment it touches you, you’ll ignite!”

“You people — when I don’t help you, you curse me for being useless. When I do help you, you want me dead. How terribly difficult to please.” The person let out a cold laugh and rose from the chair. “You summoned me here, and I thought you were going to pay my fee. If you’re willing to pay, I’ll wait a little longer. If not, I’m leaving.”

The old man’s face went white with rage. He let out a furious cry and hurled the bottle at the other person with all his might…

The dark room suddenly blazed with light.

“Aiyah, when will any of this end? Just yesterday, the East City side started shooting again — over ten people dead. One of them was the only child of Sister Li across the street, not even seventeen yet! I don’t think Sister Li can go on living.”

“Gods fighting while mortals suffer — not enough to eat, not enough to wear, and on top of that you have to worry about some random bullet flying into your skull one day. What kind of life is this worth living?! The way I see it, best would be if someone dropped a big bomb and blew us all dead at once — at least that would be a relief!” People who couldn’t sleep on a summer night sat fanning themselves with rush fans, sighing and chatting idly.

Before the words had faded, someone came running from down the street, shouting in a panic: “The Xinxin Rooming House is on fire!”

In the distance, a sheet of flame leapt and danced beneath the eastern night sky. Not until dawn was the fire extinguished. When the casualties and losses were tallied, four guests had sustained minor injuries, and one guest was dead.

Investigators determined that the fire had originated in Room 305 on the third floor, where fragments of glass bottles were found, stained with something resembling petrol — indicating likely arson. The fire’s sole fatality had also been found within Room 305.

Identity verification: according to the rooming house register, Room 305 had been rented by a twenty-five-year-old man surnamed Chen. The proprietor said he had been staying there for nearly a month, that he was not a local, reportedly an accountant who had been dismissed by a foreign firm and then evicted from the dormitory — homeless, yet unwilling to return to his hometown, so he had moved into the rooming house. He had appeared refined enough, except that his left hand had six fingers, which he always kept hidden inside his sleeve.

The autopsy results, consistent with the proprietor’s account, confirmed that the deceased from Room 305 indeed had the rare condition of six fingers — however, the age was not twenty-five, but at the very least over seventy.

No one could offer a reasonable explanation, and no one was willing to spend the effort investigating. In an age of warlord conflict where life itself was precarious, such things were all too common — a conclusion was scribbled in carelessly, and the Xinxin Rooming House arson case was closed, destined to become nothing more than conversation fodder on hot evenings.

Only one small detail went largely unnoticed — the day after the fire, among the crowd of onlookers, a child of four or five clung to his father’s leg: “Papa, last night a horse flew out of the fire!”

The man gave him a sharp smack on the bottom and said: “Children who tell lies get carried away by the old monster!”

“I’m not lying — it was a white horse!” the child said, aggrieved.

“It’s all because your mother keeps telling you those strange stories. You’re not allowed to listen to them anymore!” The man refused to let his son say another word, and tugged him away by the ear.

“Poor child,” he said, sitting on a cloud, watching the father and son walk away, shaking his head with a smile.

The whiter the cloud, the more his burn-scarred arm stood out in stark and startling contrast.

So I have finally come to the point of being injured, he thought with a sigh. Getting old, getting old — time truly passes like a white steed flashing past a crack in a wall.

He yawned and jumped down from the cloud.

From ten thousand feet in the sky, the person had vanished — only a snow-white horse remained, white enough to blaze with light. As it pierced through the cloud layer, its extraordinary speed transformed every color in the sky into streaks of brilliance, clustering around its body, yearning to follow forever, yet hopelessly left behind.

In this world, nothing was faster than him.

That river had long since nearly dried up, its bed heaped with every manner of refuse. On the bank had once stood a stone stele of boundless renown, funded and built by some wealthy local gentry a century or two ago, inscribed as the Roll of Distinguished Men — whenever a fellow townsman had been appointed to office, made a fortune, or done something to bring glory to the family name, it would be carved there. But as the years wore on, this place had seen unending warfare — people could barely cling to their lives, let alone concern themselves with any Roll of Distinguished Men.

Artillery shells had split the stele in two, and had split many of the people here in two as well. Homes were gone, the river had dried up, and now all that remained was a broken stele and a crooked-necked tree standing across from it, bleakly face to face in the dim moonlight. A scattering of dwellings lay behind the stele, desolate beyond measure.

He rather liked it. Rank with foul odors, not a soul in sight — a rare and excellent spot. He leaned against the thick trunk of the crooked-necked tree and closed his eyes contentedly. The wound on his arm was worse than before, yet it didn’t hurt in the slightest — in fact, he felt light.

Mm. He’d sleep a while. Nobody disturb him.

Before long, he suddenly opened his eyes again and glanced up into the crooked-necked tree above him…

Part Two

Peru. Ten years ago.

Places abandoned by time always possess something singular. The nights of Machu Picchu were darker than any other city’s — even when the moon overhead was as round as a washbasin. Standing at the very peak of this lost city of the Inca Empire, the wind blew from every direction, and the surrounding mountain ranges loomed like resurrected gods of magic — you couldn’t help but worry that a single lazy stretch of their limbs would send them crashing down upon you. Not a shred of security.

These stone walls, stacked with layer upon layer of precise craftsmanship — the most perfect geometric forms in the world — yet the five werewolf corpses sprawled across the stone steps destroyed every last trace of beauty. Not a single drop of blood had spilled. Their bodies were dissolving, slowly at first then rapidly, flowing into a small golden river that gradually seeped into the hard earth beneath, leaving no trace.

Bai Ma stood beside the ancient temple, habitually wiping the gun muzzle with a handkerchief as he spoke: “The distinguished and cold Elise, next time when werewolves come to bite you, might I trouble you to resist even slightly?”

A petite young woman stepped out from behind one of the temple’s columns into the moonlight. Her understated and slender deep-blue trench coat was lifted by the wind into a pair of vivid wings behind her. A face of exquisite refinement — more perfect than any porcelain doll — flashed in the night like a flawless diamond that had suddenly appeared, radiant from every angle.

She was beautiful to excess, as though she had stolen all of humanity’s good looks for herself. And beyond that — her family truly was rich. Even her washbasin was inlaid with the finest emeralds.

“Aren’t you here?” She craned her neck to peer at the stone steps, then swept the glossy black hair from in front of her shoulders. “Five. Next time there could be fifty.”

That half-amused expression, those amber-gold eyes, those lips vivid as roses — together they sculpted this young girl into a demoness who had wandered accidentally into the human world, dangerous and irresistible.

Bai Ma sighed. “Could you not be even slightly more optimistic?”

“What fugitive can afford optimism?” she shot back, and the smile faded as the last trace of golden liquid on the steps disappeared. “Werewolves multiply like flies — how many can you kill?”

He held up his gleaming gun barrel and said: “I don’t concern myself with how many there are. I only concern myself with keeping you alive long enough to reach Ukraine.”

With that, he grabbed her arm and moved briskly down the steps on the other side. A battered Range Rover sat waiting in the shadows, its patience exhausted.

He bundled Elise into the car and started the engine — after attempting to turn it over god knows how many times, the off-road vehicle finally sputtered to life with a series of put-put-puts, like the cough of an aged man in his twilight years.

“The Cheetah is just sleeping — normally it lights up at the first try,” Bai Ma explained, and slammed his foot hard on the accelerator. The car lurched as though a sleepwalker had suddenly been jolted awake — it shot forward with a burst of full-throttle power, flying at a speed that thoroughly lived up to the Cheetah name.

This off-road vehicle, which he had named the Cheetah, was his only household appliance — stolen years ago from an abandoned vehicle processing yard in Cape Town.

“The route you’ve taken bears no resemblance whatsoever to the plan agreed upon with my grandfather,” Elise said, watching the rocks and boulders fly past outside the window. The wind poured in through the window, which could only be rolled halfway up, forcing her to clutch her long hair with both hands to keep it from blocking her vision.

“And that is precisely why we haven’t run into a werewolf platoon so far,” Bai Ma replied, glancing at his watch and then fixing his gaze ahead. “Five hours until dawn — more than enough time to reach the city center.” He clawed vigorously at his hair and muttered as if to himself: “Having to move only at night is truly nerve-wracking!”

Elise pretended not to hear him. “I heard you plan to retire — you won’t be doing the treasure-hunting business anymore?”

“I’m old — can’t keep up the pace,” Bai Ma said, seemingly quite candidly. The face reflected in the rear-view mirror was unmistakably Eastern, a mere twenty-something years old — young, handsome, vigorous and full of life, in the very prime of his best years.

Elise turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow: “What a shame. I wonder how many fugitives will be heartbroken. Should I consider myself exceedingly fortunate to have caught your last run?”

“You really are a lucky one,” Bai Ma said, cutting a glance sideways — then at lightning speed drew his pistol. “Head down!”

Elise’s reflexes were fast — she ducked immediately. A golden bullet passed almost simultaneously just above her head and flew out the window, striking a werewolf that had been hanging upside down from the roof of the car, claws already reaching toward Elise.

With a shriek of pain, the werewolf fell from the car and tumbled along the road. The gold-forged bullet had buried itself deep in its forehead — within minutes it would meet the same end as its brethren on the steps.

“Funny — werewolves’ agility wasn’t supposed to be this good, if I recall correctly. The ones that ambushed us at the temple were the same.” Bai Ma holstered his gun and shook his head. “Another bullet wasted. The cost of gold bullets is just too high. Your grandfather really should have given me more.”

“Werewolves come in ranks — the lower-ranked ones have only brute strength and move heavily. The rank capable of competing with us moves lightly and silently, that much is a baseline skill. As for the highest-ranked werewolves, gold bullets are useless against them. If you’re unfortunate enough to encounter them, my advice is to send the bullet straight into your own skull instead,” Elise said, entirely unruffled.

“Bullets that expensive, I can’t afford to spend on myself,” Bai Ma gave a casual grin, flashing straight and white teeth, pointing at the windshield toward the endless road ahead. “Who knows what interesting things lie up ahead — why think so much?”

Elise looked where he was pointing and said: “Ahead? Nothing but pitch darkness.”

“The sky will get light eventually.”

“I have never seen the sky get light.”

“Uh — you’re hungry, aren’t you? There’s food prepared for you in the box on the back seat.” Bai Ma changed the subject. “Don’t waste it — I risked being arrested to steal it from the hospital blood bank for you. Freshness not guaranteed, but it was absolutely drawn from living people.”

Elise shook her head: “I’m not hungry. I eat once a week.”

“Dieting?” Bai Ma looked her up and down. “Your figure is already quite an S-curve.”

Elise shot him a cool glance. “This is called evolution! The weaker the creature, the higher the feeding frequency.” She didn’t forget to add: “Which is why you humans are the weakest — three meals a day, your whole existence revolves around eating.”

“Can I call it the art of the palate?” Bai Ma said wistfully. “If there’s ever a chance, I’d truly love to take you to China — the food of that country would overturn every prejudice you have.”

But it was only talk. No one could possibly take a vampire to eat food — this clan, existing in darkness and legend, had threaded its way through human history in flickers, either concealed or exaggerated, passed down through the ages in a mixture of truth and fiction. Blood was their only sustenance, singular and absolute. All other food produced only a bitter, searing sensation in their mouths — no matter how delicious it was, it could only be a form of torment. To a vampire, food was like sunlight — an experience forever out of reach.

Elise herself had said: contrary to the external legend, when vampires caught the scent of blood, they did not salivate with craving. All those claims of incomparable sweetness and incomparable satisfaction were irresponsible fabrications. To a vampire, blood was as flavorless as plain water — drinking it was only to avoid discomfort. She despised those novels that portrayed her kind as bloodthirsty gluttons.

“You can still walk away now — you have time,” Elise said suddenly.

Bai Ma blinked. “Walk away? Aren’t I presently getting away with you?”

The words had barely left his mouth when Bai Ma felt an extraordinary coldness sweep across his face, and for a split second his vision blurred. When it cleared, the passenger seat was already empty. The headlight beams shot forward, blazing bright — Elise stood, arms folded across her chest, perfectly at ease, barely five meters in front of the car.

With a sharp screech of brakes, the Cheetah stopped dead — less than a centimeter from Elise. The seatbelt dug painfully into Bai Ma’s ribs. He leaned out the window: “I think — before I get angry — you had better get back in the car.”

“I’ll go to Ukraine on my own.” Elise didn’t move. “You saw — my movements are very fast. In truth, you are the one who is a burden to me.”

“Putting me down like this is really very hurtful,” Bai Ma said, a look of melancholy crossing his face.

A gunshot rang out, shattering the darkness before dawn. Before the smoke had even cleared from the barrel, Elise clutched her right shoulder, mouth slightly agape, and crumpled to the ground.

“Women and petty people are alike difficult to manage,” Bai Ma muttered, holstering his gun, stepping out of the car, and scooping up the unconscious Elise — he bundled her back into the car and sped off toward the next destination, leaving only dust behind.

What on earth could be faster than his draw?!

For any professional in the business of helping people escape, besides lethal weapons, a specialized tranquilizer gun was basic equipment. He had once dropped an elephant with this gun.

“Play games with me — please,” he muttered, casting a glance at the unconscious Elise, a flicker of something rueful crossing his face. “Silly girl.”

Part Three

Today, the residents of Lima were all buzzing about something strange — some early risers, at the break of dawn, were astonished to discover that the Rímac River, which ran through the old city, had turned red overnight. But as the sun rose, the water quickly faded back to its original color. As the story spread, half the people believed it was the supernatural, and the other half said it was the hallucination of a drunk.

Bai Ma stood in a vast and silent hall. The ornate chandelier overhead had half burned out, only a few lightbulbs flickering faintly. The walls were everywhere covered in dried bloodstains and sharp claw marks, riddled with bullet holes — the precious oil paintings that had once hung there had been destroyed into shreds.

Before him on the floor, the bodies were piled like mountains, every dead face whiter than paper. Just a few days ago, they had still been a gathering of beautiful, elegant men and women moving through this magnificent underground castle.

This was Elise’s home — hidden for countless years beneath a museum, its drainage system connected to the Rímac River. The blood of the vampires had all been drained away in the massacre.

A cold sword swept toward him from behind and came to rest against his neck. He smiled and said: “I am a guest, not an enemy.”

A cold, full-length mirror with a silver frame, toppled across from him — though shattered for the most part — still clearly reflected everything behind him: a dagger of titanium crystal was buried in Ailong’s chest. His golden hair had turned silver-white. That face, once classically handsome in the way of beautiful young men, had weathered into wrinkles, his youth long gone. Even the hand holding the sword had withered to skin and bone, trembling faintly the way elderly people with limited mobility do.

Ailong was Elise’s grandfather.

“Your granddaughter is perfectly safe,” Bai Ma tilted his head to move away from the sword’s edge, turned around, and frowned as he looked the man over. “Werewolves?”

“The Blood Purge — arrived on schedule,” Ailong said, lowering his gaze to the dagger in his chest. “Their numbers vastly outnumber ours, and they have advanced rapidly — they have even learned to seal sunlight into their weapons.”

With that, his legs gave way beneath him — it seemed he would fall, yet he drove his long sword into the ground and held himself upright by sheer force of will.

Bai Ma quickly stepped forward to steady him: “What can I do to help?”

“Help me to sit over there — I don’t want to be sprawled on the floor like a dog,” Ailong said slowly. Fat beads of cold sweat ran down along the creases of his face.

Bai Ma helped him to the nearest sofa and sat him down. His body had already become so light it barely had any weight.

“Time has moved too quickly for me,” Ailong said, surveying everything before him, neither sorrow nor joy in his expression. “You must find it very amusing — a vampire who has already lived three hundred years, and still complaining that time passes too fast.”

“I don’t laugh at a man who is about to die,” Bai Ma said without missing a beat. “Is there anything you haven’t yet done?”

“You truly know how to make a person feel wounded,” Ailong chuckled. “Haven’t yet seen Elise married. Haven’t yet developed a formula to withstand sunlight. Haven’t yet driven the werewolves out to the far reaches of the galaxy — ha ha.” He crooked a finger at Bai Ma, beckoning him closer, and lowered his voice: “One of my lifelong wishes was to go to a sunlit beach in Hawaii and watch the bikini-clad beauties in person.”

Bai Ma smiled. “After you’re gone, I’ll burn a few paper-folded bikini beauties for you, in the Chinese tradition.”

“Heh heh — thank you in advance,” Ailong murmured. He looked around, and the playfulness on his face slowly faded. “Every person lying here was never defeated. Look at their hands — to the very last moment, they were still holding their weapons.”

As he said, the fallen vampires, stiff and rigid, each still clutched in their clenched hands a sharp blade or sword, or a gun long since out of ammunition.

“We are a noble people. We do not intermarry with outsiders, nor do we prey upon humans — the blood we consume, we purchase with true gold and silver. In this underground city, we live elegantly and with integrity. Werewolves are different. They will interbreed with any clan — seeking only to reproduce as many offspring as possible in the shortest time. They do not fear sunlight. In the daytime they are gentlemen of refined bearing, concealed in the human world under every manner of identity. At night they revert to their bestial form, sinking their teeth into human necks and draining the blood — then the next day, continuing their human lives as though nothing happened. What is laughable is that when the werewolves discovered we had the ability to kill them, they began to frame us for the atrocities they had committed. And so, at some point no one can quite name — we, who never stooped to explain the truth — became in the eyes of humans the bloodthirsty, irredeemable blood demons. The mages and vampire hunters who proclaimed themselves righteous came to pride themselves on hunting us down.” Ailong struggled to keep his voice from weakening. “We have never liked war, but we must protect our families. The war with the werewolves, from ancient times to now…” He broke into violent coughing. Bai Ma saw the dagger in his chest beginning to sprout red threads of blood, spreading outward along the crystal’s natural fractures.

Bai Ma knew that sunlight was his fatal weakness. To be struck by a dagger in which sunlight had been sealed — the consequence was the same for any vampire, the only difference being whether death came quickly or slowly.

“Rest — no need to say more. I understand,” Bai Ma said, watching his eyes grow dimmer.

“You don’t understand,” Ailong pressed a hand to his chest, his breath growing faint. “They say our people will inevitably be driven to extinction — that no matter how hard we fight, there will be no place for us in this world. They will surpass us — in numbers and in ability — and someday they will drag every last one of our kind out from underground and reduce us to ash beneath the sun.”

“Truly a vicious provocation,” Bai Ma nodded.

“That should be our greatest fear — and our greatest longing,” Ailong said after a brief silence. It was as though all his strength had dispersed. Slowly he murmured: “Bai Ma — do you believe there will come a day when we can stand in sunlight, safe and unharmed?”

“You’d be better off asking me why I turned around and came back,” Bai Ma replied.

“Elise’s birthday wish, every year, is that.” Ailong smiled gently. “You’ve already told me she is safe — what else do I need to ask?”

Bai Ma fell briefly silent, saying nothing.

“You are the first human to be invited in here. You have forty-two successful records of helping people escape from those who pursued them — entrusting Elise to you, I am at ease. I wrote our agreed escape route in a letter and arranged it to look as though I had planned to burn it but had not quite finished — when the werewolves conduct their search, they will find it easily.” Ailong said with a crafty smile.

“Weren’t you afraid I’d really follow the original plan?” Bai Ma raised an eyebrow.

“If you were that foolish, how could I possibly have hired you?” Ailong turned his face toward him. “Bai Ma — do you remember what I said to you before you took Elise away?”

“I remember,” Bai Ma nodded. “You said: as long as Elise lives, the natural enemy of the werewolves will not disappear.”

“Her bloodline is the noblest and purest. That means she possesses abilities, speed, strength, and wisdom that ordinary vampires do not. Our ancestors defeated the werewolves on the strength of precisely these three things. Though we have fallen to a disadvantage now, it is only for now.” A flame seemed to ignite in Ailong’s eyes — but just as quickly dimmed. “And yet, the flame within this child is nearly extinguished.”

Bai Ma’s expression remained still, and he said nothing.

Ailong pulled a chain from his neck. On it hung a semi-transparent red stone, roughly the size of a pigeon’s egg — vivid and lovely, soft and luminous.

“This red-veined stone was left by my wife. It is found in the Andes Mountains, known as the ‘Inca Rose.’ Take it to Elise.”

Bai Ma took the chain. The stone rested in his palm, red and endearing — like a tiny beating heart.

“My wife was very beautiful, and her swordsmanship was formidable — the werewolves all feared her. Even when she was severely wounded, they did not dare approach her. I still remember the last words she ever said to me: that within this stone was a heart that would never be extinguished. That was all more than two hundred years ago.” Ailong’s eyes slowly closed. “Time passes so quickly — like a white steed flashing past a crack in the wall.”

“I agree. But you never betrayed time — nor did your wife. Your lives were complete.” Bai Ma kept his eyes on him. “My reason for coming back here was simply to relay a message someone asked me to pass on to you.”

He leaned in and whispered a few sentences in Ailong’s ear.

In Ailong’s half-closed eyes, a light passed — sorrowful, and yet joyful. His withered hand lifted faintly, then dropped without strength.

Bai Ma carefully put away the necklace, removed his own coat, and draped it over Ailong’s face. This was a vampire who had lived with dignity — he deserved to die with dignity.

Before he left, he set fire to the place. The flames surrounded all those vampires who had refused to relinquish their weapons even in death, burning higher and higher.

It was deep in the night. Along the banks of the Rímac, a group of young people lurched past, bottles of beer in hand, laughing and jostling one another.

“A horse just flew past!” one of them, who happened to be facing the direction of the museum, suddenly pointed at the sky and shouted.

The others turned to look. The black night sky was perfectly still — not even many stars.

“You idiot, you’ve had too much to drink — your eyes are playing tricks!” the group cried, jabbing their fingers at his head, laughing loudly.

The bleary-eyed fellow shook his head and squinted at the sky again, muttering: “No horse… am I drunk?”

The group laughed and staggered away.

In the depths of the night sky, a snow-white horse raced with the wind…

Part Four

Gunfire. Screaming. Faces frozen in terror. The feeble shouts of a megaphone. A motor inn near the border of Peru had been surrounded until not even water could get through. Several police vehicles were parked some twenty meters from the inn’s front entrance. Over a dozen local police, armed to the teeth, held their weapons trained on a particular window on the inn’s second floor.

A middle-aged man with a bun of curly hair was slumped against the wall, drenched in blood, the bullet holes on his body a horrifying sight. Tracing the smeared bloodstains up the wall to that particular window — the one that every eye was fixed upon — left no doubt as to where this man had met his end. Someone had dragged him to the window, shot him dead in plain view of everyone, and then shoved him out — cold-blooded to the extreme.

The inn’s staff and guests who could flee had fled. No one intended to stay and watch the spectacle. Locals especially understood — these things happened several times a year. This stretch bordered Colombia; the sound of gunfire between drug runners and armed police was as ordinary as a meal. This time was slightly more complicated: two fugitive drug traffickers had stormed into the inn and taken an unspecified number of hostages. They had very early on demonstrated their trump card to the police — strapped across their bodies was enough explosive to level the entire inn. They had also shot one hostage dead as a warning. Their demand was not for a clear escape route — they required the authorities, within twenty-four hours, to release a recently arrested accomplice. Once that person had safely left Peru, they would release the hostages and surrender. Otherwise, once time was up, they would kill one hostage per hour.

The police naturally refused. The one arrested was a key figure in a certain drug cartel — releasing him would be letting the tiger back into the mountains. Yet the hostages’ lives couldn’t simply be abandoned. And so the small motor inn became a standoff, swords drawn on both sides, neither yielding. As the sky gradually darkened, neither party had made any move.

“Brother — weren’t we agreed, I’d step out for a bit and you’d watch the girl?!” Up on a slope not far from the motor inn, Bai Ma sat on the Cheetah’s hood, peering through binoculars at the situation by the inn, while simultaneously complaining.

“How was I not watching! Isn’t the whole point that I told you the moment you came back — drug traffickers had stormed into the inn, and they took that vampire girl hostage along with two other women, an old man, and a child?” A cheetah’s face appeared on the windshield, smacking its lips.

Bai Ma turned and poked a finger at the cheetah’s nose: “And you couldn’t do anything about it?”

“I’m just a car — what can I do?” The cheetah’s face let out a huff, and seeing that Bai Ma’s expression was not pleasant, added: “Fine, fine — even granted that you saved me, I’m still only the soul of a dead cheetah. You used your arts to let me inhabit this vehicle, but that doesn’t make me a Transformer. My abilities are only two: to provide surveillance eyes, and to move at flying speed. Clashing head-on with drug traffickers — that’s for you to handle yourselves. And besides — that girl is a vampire. Her speed and abilities — do you really think those two can stop her?” The cheetah always spoke at a sprint, like a hundred-meter dash, and added with characteristic indifference at the end: “Oh, and those two drug traffickers are almost certainly werewolves. When they rushed into the inn, I caught that stench of blood. But they’re probably mixed-blood of a low rank — I saw gunshot wounds on them, and no sign of self-healing. Disgusting, really. My nose has gotten sharper and sharper, and I’m getting smarter too!”

“You rotten thing — then why didn’t you warn me when a werewolf dropped onto the car roof the other night?!” Bai Ma punched the hood.

“Truly skilled masters always keep a low profile,” the Cheetah gave a sly snicker. “Besides, knowing each other as well as we do — do I not know the speed of your draw?”

Bai Ma lowered the binoculars and sighed. “You know — she was hit with my specially formulated tranquilizer. Which means for the next seven days, her mobility is no better than an ordinary human’s.”

The Cheetah’s mouth formed a perfect O. “You increased the dosage?”

“To prevent her from causing me problems midway.” Bai Ma watched the last sliver of light on the horizon sink beneath the earth. “If those two werewolves discover her identity…”

“Werewolves have factions too, right? These two drug traffickers might not be part of the group chasing her. Or she might be rescued by the police soon enough.” The Cheetah offered comfort, then immediately raised its voice: “Surely you’re not thinking of using your powers again?!”

“This isn’t the right time,” Bai Ma jumped down from the car. “Whether they’re from the same faction or not makes little difference to her. Between hunters and vampires — there is no peace. However…” He suddenly broke into a baffling smile. “This may not necessarily be a bad thing.”

Then out of nowhere the car window “spat” out a card holder, which struck him squarely on the back of the head. The card holder fell open on the ground, and a small photograph, roughly two-by-two inches, slid out.

“Stop throwing things!” Bai Ma picked up the photograph, wiped it on his clothes, and tucked it back into the card holder.

“We were supposed to be retired — we had agreed to spend our twilight years in South Africa — yet you just had to get tangled up with this vampire.” The Cheetah was deeply dissatisfied, deliberately blowing a puff of black exhaust from the tailpipe. “Just because she looks like the girl in that photograph, right? Every man and his ridiculous first-love complex — one look at a girl who resembles his sweetheart, and his paternal instincts explode all over the place. I’ve been wanting to say this for a long time: this whole venture is more dangerous than any job we’ve ever done. This isn’t ancient times anymore — the werewolves’ power has already surpassed the vampires’, and wiping out the vampires is only a matter of time. Whether you die early or late, it’s still dying — why do we have to get dragged into their war?! Even if you deliver the girl safely to Ukraine, so what? This may not be the crow’s call, but by the time we get there, the vampires in Ukraine might already have been slaughtered by the werewolves. You know this isn’t a small skirmish — this is their long-planned ‘Blood Purge.’ Not just the vampires here in Peru, but every vampire on earth will suffer the same fate — it’s only a matter of time. Bai Ma, I am deeply disappointed and deeply aggrieved by your decision this time!”

Faced with the Cheetah’s fury and lengthy tirade, Bai Ma simply smiled and said: “You never know what time will bring.”

The small photograph rested in the card holder — a young woman with her hair pinned up in a bun, clearly Chinese in appearance, eyes bright as autumn water, her smile like flowers in bloom. At a glance, in both age and appearance, she truly resembled Elise by six or seven parts — though more precisely, this was not a photograph at all, but a delicately rendered illustration.

The Cheetah was convinced that the woman in the picture was his first love, and had attempted on numerous occasions to excavate the details. Bai Ma refused every time.

“All I know is that twenty-four hours will pass very quickly. If the girl really is found out by the werewolves…” the Cheetah suddenly brightened considerably. “Then we can head straight for South Africa!”

“You gloating wretch!” Bai Ma gave the tire a kick.

Just then, several more police vehicles arrived, further encircling the motor inn.

A few men with the look of officials huddled in the car farthest from the scene, exchanging opinions. The news they brought was not good at all — two days ago, the accomplice they had been asked to release had attempted to escape from prison, and had been shot dead on the spot.

Naturally, this information had been sealed from the public.

Part Five

The door had been locked shut. All the hostages had their hands and feet bound in tape and were propped side by side against the wall. The windows were also locked, and the traffickers had deliberately used tape to secure several explosive packs to the glass — just moments ago, at gunpoint, they had forced the old man among the hostages to brazenly “set up” the windows in plain sight. This way, if a sniper attempted a long-range shot, any miscalculation would strike the explosives.

Trafficker A, clutching a submachine gun, peered through the mirror to monitor the situation outside. Trafficker B sat in a chair, gulping down bottled water in enormous mouthfuls, watching the hostages without blinking.

The air inside the sealed room was heavy and suffocating.

The two young white women had been trembling the entire time, lips turning bluish, not daring to cry or cry out. Crying brought a blow from a gun butt. The old man gritted his teeth, his hands — tensed to the extreme — gripping the floor until his fingernails bled without him even knowing.

Elise hung her head, slumped weakly against the corner of the wall. From the moment she had been shot, throughout the days from Machu Picchu to the border, she had spent almost the entire time unconscious — only clearing her head this morning, yet still without the strength to even get out of bed. She hadn’t even had the chance to curse that wretched Bai Ma when these two fierce and menacing drug traffickers barged in and seized everyone. Finding her there, they gained one more hostage.

From the moment they entered, she had caught that familiar smell. Low-ranking mixed-blood werewolves — that nauseating odor was impossible to purge.

She held herself still and gave nothing away.

As long as she didn’t speak, those two creatures would not know her identity.

Beside her against the wall was a small figure — a boy of six or seven, local, with eyes round and bright, his head shaved down to a fresh layer of stubble that stuck up like an unruly hedgehog.

The little shaved-head was huddled tight in the corner, both elbows on his knees, his bound hands pressed against his face as though trying to muffle any sound of crying before it escaped.

Only Elise could see — the little shaved-head was not afraid at all. This child had actually hidden a modified small razor blade under his tongue, and was inconspicuously and gradually cutting through the tape. The moment he noticed the traffickers’ eyes looking his way, he instantly and seamlessly pressed the blade back beneath his tongue — a technique of considerable refinement.

When the little shaved-head realized that his covert activity had been noticed by Elise, he didn’t panic either. He stopped moving and buried his face against her arm in a convincing display of fear, whispering: “Big sister, I don’t believe anyone will come to save us. I don’t want to die.”

The situation was this dire — a dead end seemed entirely possible. Was it still worth struggling? Elise acted as though she had neither heard nor seen anything, merely shifting her position slightly to shield the little figure more behind her.

The seconds ticked by. The room was pitch black, nothing but the anxious footsteps of the two traffickers pacing back and forth around them.

The shouted demands outside were unchanged — only that their requirements would need time to be met, and not to harm the hostages. But the shouts were nothing more than half-dead noise — nothing that offered even a shred of hope.

One of the young women finally broke completely. She thrashed like a madwoman, forcing herself to her feet, screaming as she lunged toward the window.

A burst of gunfire swept mercilessly toward her. The woman crumpled with the shot, her hands desperately outstretched toward the outside — catching the white curtain as she fell. With a tearing sound, the entire curtain was ripped down, and like a person who had just been stripped of their soul, it drifted without strength to the ground, covering the body that had just been stripped of its life.

“Are you out of your mind?! There’s explosives on the window — do you want to blow us all up?!” Trafficker A punched Trafficker B on the head. The words were barely out of his mouth before both of them froze.

Clear and brilliant moonlight poured in, unobstructed. So beautiful a light — and yet it illuminated only death.

The dead woman’s companion bit down savagely on her own fist, unable to cry, unable to make a sound, frozen stiff like an idiot. The old man beside her was simply scared unconscious.

“What a round moon,” Elise murmured, gazing out the window, seemingly utterly unaffected by what had just happened.

The room suddenly fell very still — including the two murderers.

The moonlight that had arrived without warning now shone upon them, and something strange came over their expressions. Their brown faces turned at once pale green, as though paint had been splashed over them. Their lips kept moving and twitching, and their eyes took on a deeply vacant look.

Low-ranking mixed-blood werewolves generally had a strong aversion to moonlight, for they could not freely control their bodies. As soon as moonlight touched them, they would lose their human consciousness and intelligence, reverting to dull and ferocious wolves. Once struck through the heart — even with an ordinary bullet — a single shot would be enough to kill.

“You have ten seconds to escape. Go — now!” Elise said to the little shaved-head.

The little shaved-head’s blade could finally work freely — in two or three strokes the remaining tape was cut. But instead of bolting immediately, he used the blade to cut through the tape binding Elise’s feet.

“Three seconds is all it takes!” he told her.

Elise didn’t look at him — her gaze was fixed entirely on the two werewolves who were on the verge of transforming.

At that moment, the werewolves’ fingers were stiffening as they spread open. The guns clattered to the floor. Their nails shot out into blade-like claws. The color drained from their pupils, slowly shifting to a pale green. Their upright bodies bent and curved — their clothing split and burst open, and coarse gray fur erupted through the skin.

“If you don’t want to die, run with everything you have — and don’t look back!” she said coldly.

Snap — the tape broke apart. Elise leapt to her feet, charged to the door, gathered every last reserve of her strength, and kicked the solid door clean off its hinges. Before the little shaved-head following close behind could even catch his breath, he had already received a hard kick to the backside — the whole of him sailed out of the room and landed near the top of the staircase.

“Get out of here now!” She turned back and kicked the two still-dazed women and the unconscious old man. Infuriating — these two had not the slightest reaction, as though they’d been frightened straight out of their souls.

A heavy, rough breathing sounded from behind. There was no need to turn around — Elise already knew what scene was unfolding back there.

Two enormous gray wolves charged at Elise and the two dumbstruck women, one after the other. Her hands still bound, she raised her foot and drove it into one wolf’s skull with maximum force, sending the beast reeling, eyes spinning, crashing into the wall behind it.

But she had no time for the second. Sharp wolf claws landed on her shoulders, and the full force of it slammed her hard to the ground. As those saliva-dripping fangs lunged at her throat — she felt a sudden strange stillness inside. Her leg, which had already braced to drive a hard kick into the wolf’s belly, simply stopped, as if it had lost all function.

What swam before her eyes no longer seemed like an ugly wolf face or the disorienting moonlight — but a still and quiet dawn. The sky was as clean as a white tablecloth. Then someone, cruelly, threw handful after handful of fresh blood across it, turning the world by force into hell.

A hand covered in ashes reached out from the sea of blood, stroking her heavy eyelids, murmuring as though in a dream — the longer the time, the deeper the suffering. Close your eyes, tear yourself apart, sever time — only then can everything be made to stop.

Close time, sever time… Yes. It should have been done long ago.

Suddenly, a piercing howl of agony wrenched her wandering mind back to reality. What fell upon her was not the killing bite of fangs, but the warm spray of wolf blood.

The gray wolf that had attacked her had a red fire axe buried in its neck. It collapsed sideways beside her.

The little shaved-head stood before her, gasping for breath, shouting urgently: “Come on, come on, let’s go!”

She gritted her teeth and stood, staggering toward the door with him.

The moment they stepped out of the room, the little shaved-head beside her suddenly cried out and crashed to the floor — dragged back into the room by a brute force.

Elise spun around. The gray wolf she had kicked away — she didn’t know when it had come to — had lunged forward and bitten down on the little shaved-head’s right foot. With a vindictive twist, the child was hurled like a sandbag into the wardrobe. A crack — his arm seemed to be broken.

Remarkably, the child didn’t let out a single cry. He lay on his back, face white as paper, clutching his right arm.

The beast seemed to harbor even greater hatred for this child. It turned and pounced on him, one claw pinning him to the stomach — one fraction more of force and the organs would not survive. The one that had taken an axe had staggered back to its feet as well, shaken the axe loose, and was lunging at him in fury.

Before he was torn apart, the child’s mouth was moving. No voice could get out — but his lips were unmistakably, clearly saying to Elise: Run!

I don’t want to die! — the little shaved-head’s words detonated in her heart like a clap of thunder.

Her mind went completely blank. All she felt was a scorching, all-consuming force surging from her exhausted heart — savage as a wild beast, flooding into every weary cell.

The gray wolves raised their claws. Fresh organs were their favorite food — and the food was right there before them.

But they would never get the chance to eat again — several bowl-sized chunks of flesh were torn from their throats by someone. Their chests were smashed through with gaping holes. From the fractured blood vessels, wolf blood sprayed like a fountain. The two ferocious beasts crumpled like mud, hitting the ground with a wet slap, their four limbs continuing to convulse.

No one saw how this had happened. It was too fast.

Elise’s chest heaved violently. She spat out the salty-iron taste of wolf blood. In the moonlight, behind slightly parted lips, four fangs sharper than wolf’s teeth caught the cold gleam.

She stepped forward and lifted the little shaved-head, who had fainted from the pain, and walked toward the door.

“Not bad — you can really hold your own,” came a teasing voice from behind. A strong hand settled on her shoulder.

Part Six

“My oh my, injured like this — how long before you can get back to work?!” In a low, cramped old house, a fat middle-aged man picked his teeth with one hand and shook his head at the little shaved-head lying in bed, swathed in bandages and with his arm in a cast. His expression was full of disdain. Then he turned to Bai Ma and Elise, who had brought the boy home, and said flatly: “Medical expenses and the like — I have none of that. I’m only this child’s maternal uncle, looking after him out of goodwill since his late parents passed.”

With that, the fat man hurried out through the door and didn’t show his face again.

This was a small town near the border — called a city, it was more like an ordinary small town. The little shaved-head’s home was in the shantytown here. Ramshackle houses pressed up against one another. Shops and small street stalls conducted their daily business amid overflowing sewage and swarms of flies. Deceitful or menacing-looking people stood in corners, talking in hushed tones and watching with sharp eyes. Danger everywhere.

“My uncle is just like that,” the little shaved-head said, dismissing it with a grin. “Thank you both for saving me. Oh — Big Sister, can you help me get that earthen jar over there?” He nodded toward a pile of odds and ends in the corner of the room, where a foot-and-a-half-high tricolor earthenware jar lay tipped over among a heap of old newspapers.

Elise retrieved it. The little shaved-head had her open the jar and pull out the crumpled plastic bags stuffed inside — layer by layer she peeled them apart until she revealed a few neatly folded banknotes and a pile of coins.

“This is for you,” the little shaved-head said. “I know medical bills are expensive. This is all I have right now — what’s left, I’ll pay you back later.”

Bai Ma and Elise looked at each other.

“I’ve been saving this up in secret for years. I was thinking — by the time I turn eighteen, I’ll have enough to pay for the fees to apprentice at the most famous repair shop in Lima.” The little shaved-head glanced at his headboard, where a repair shop advertisement was stuck to the wall. “I heard from Vicente that being a car mechanic pays the best! And you don’t get beaten — I don’t want to steal wallets anymore.”

“Steal wallets?” Elise was somewhat taken aback. “Are you saying that when your uncle says ‘go to work,’ he means going out to steal wallets?”

“What else is there to do? Mom and Dad are both gone — if I don’t go work, there’s nothing to eat. But it’s not just stealing things — I also go to the factory and help move cargo. I’m very strong! Otherwise how could I have chopped that wolf down!” The little shaved-head stuck out his tongue at her, then said, a little sheepishly: “I snuck into the motor inn because I was going to steal something. Didn’t get anything before I was caught instead.”

“No wonder you’re so practiced at hiding razor blades,” Elise shook her head, then paused and asked: “You — weren’t you afraid at all?”

“You mean the werewolves? So the legends are real!” The little shaved-head was actually excited. “Too bad I blacked out at the end. I don’t know what happened to those two wolves afterward.”

“You almost died, kid,” Bai Ma said. He truly liked this little creature — in both speech and action, absolutely full of life.

The little shaved-head waved it off: “It’s not the first time. Once I was caught stealing by the person I robbed — they nearly held my head underwater and drowned me. Another time I got some strange illness and they all said I wouldn’t survive. No money for a doctor, so I just gathered some mountain herbs and ate them — vomited until I nearly turned inside out, but somehow I gradually got better again. Aiyah, there are too many things like that. Here people die every day — one gunfight and so many are killed!”

Elise was quiet for a long time, then asked: “And you’ll just go on living like this?”

“Yes.” The little shaved-head nodded, with not the slightest trace of sorrow.

Bai Ma patted his head: “Time will bring surprises, if you believe in it.”

The little shaved-head rolled his eyes and scratched his head: “What does that mean?”

“We’re leaving,” Bai Ma stood up.

“Hey hey — take the money with you!” the little shaved-head called out urgently.

Bai Ma smiled, turned back, took the plastic bag of loose change in his hand, and asked: “If we take all of this away, aren’t you heartbroken?”

“As long as I’m not dead, I can earn it back,” the little shaved-head answered.

“Correct.” Bai Ma turned around, satisfied. He fished a glittering diamond from his coat pocket, quietly slipped it into the bag, then tossed the whole thing back to the little shaved-head. “Don’t go stealing things anymore. As for medical expenses — if my car ever breaks down in the future, you promise to fix it for me for free for the rest of your life, and we’ll call it even.”

With that, he took Elise by the arm and walked out without looking back.

In the cover of night, the Cheetah raced along a desolate road. Elise didn’t say a word the entire way — didn’t even glance at Bai Ma.

“Are you hungry?” Bai Ma asked as though nothing were the matter.

Elise still said nothing.

The radio launched into the evening news broadcast. The first item of the day: “According to local police, the hostage crisis that occurred three days ago at a motor inn near the border has been successfully resolved. Both drug traffickers were killed, and all hostages were rescued — with one exception, who succumbed to injuries.”

Bai Ma let out a scornful laugh and switched to another channel with a sharp click. Listening to a saccharine pop song was more entertaining than hearing fabricated lies.

“The little shaved-head said he didn’t believe anyone would come to save us,” Elise said suddenly.

“That child has no gene for sitting and waiting to die,” Bai Ma nodded. “Give it a few years — he’ll be someone remarkable.”

Before the words had faded, his face received a sharp, ringing slap.

The Cheetah screeched to a stop on the roadside — it stopped on its own, and even swayed back and forth with gleeful malice.

“You—” he managed to get one character out, then received another slap.

“You—” another slap.

“That’s three! Are you done?!” Bai Ma flung open the car door and jumped out, putting Elise on the other side of the car door. “If you have something to say, say it! Why resort to hitting?!”

“You’re nothing but a demon, disguised as a human!” Elise glared at him with fury. “You knew everything that was happening in that inn. You clearly have the ability to perform short-distance spatial movement — and yet you stood by and did nothing!”

“What do you mean I stood by?! You were finished fighting, and didn’t I come to collect you? You — covered in blood, fangs bared — if you’d walked out like that and the police had spotted you, how were you going to explain yourself? And I was the one who paid the little shaved-head’s medical bills! Do you know how much a high-end private clinic like that costs?!” Bai Ma made his case with great conviction. “My responsibility is only to ensure you arrive in Ukraine alive. Right now you can run, jump, and hit people — I haven’t neglected my duty!”

Elise was so thoroughly argued down she couldn’t find words.

“So what if I’m a demon — I make my living by my own abilities and every coin I earn is clean money,” Bai Ma leaned his head in through the window. “That’s still better than a parasite like you who squanders her life!”

He successfully dodged the fist she launched at him — but forgot one thing: the tranquilizer had long since worn off.

Elise appeared behind him in an instant. Both hands shot out and wrenched his head sharply to one side. Her sharp teeth pressed against his neck: “Do you think I don’t dare drink your blood?”

“You can’t drink my blood,” Bai Ma said very seriously. Then he kicked the Cheetah’s car door hard. “You wretch! It was you who told her everything, wasn’t it?!”

“The master teaches us that all parties should be honest with one another,” the Cheetah’s face beamed on the windshield, grinning until it looked like a full-blown flower. “If you treated me better on an ordinary day — stop feeding me cheap low-grade petrol, and especially stop pounding on me, send me in for a proper service occasionally — I think our relationship would be considerably more harmonious.”

Elise gave a cold snort, released Bai Ma, and asked: “Where did you go while I was unconscious? If you hadn’t abandoned your post, how could I have ended up as a werewolf’s hostage?”

Before she’d finished, the Cheetah’s car door suddenly flew open on its own: “Get in — something’s wrong!”

On the empty, desolate road, nothing on either side but an endless expanse of sand and cacti of varying heights. In the mildly warm air came an unusual vibration, barely perceptible — and in the distance, something seemed to be drawing closer.

Bai Ma quickly pushed her into the car. The Cheetah shot forward instantly, using every last bit of its speed to put as much distance as possible between them and whatever danger might be following.

In the far distance, a pack of wolves of massive build sniffed the air this way and that, as though searching for something of great importance — but ultimately came away with nothing.

Part Seven

Colombia. The Port of Barranquilla. Above the sound of foghorns, the cargo ship named Apollo cut through vivid blue water.

In Apollo’s lowest cargo hold, Elise stood in this cluttered and odorous space, her eyes following the movements of a rat scurrying happily between the cargo — left, right, left.

“Where is this ship going? How long will we be in here? Can you tell me now?” she asked, frowning. Throughout the journey crossing Peru and then through to here, Bai Ma had not told her a single thing about the plan.

“At least a month,” Bai Ma sat on the Cheetah’s hood, smiling. “Destination — China.”

“China?”

“That’s right — from China, I’ll deliver you to Ukraine.” Bai Ma sneezed. “Though the smell in this cargo hold is somewhat disagreeable, this is the best place I could find for you. No sunlight all day.”

“Get down — your brother is getting a little seasick!” the Cheetah’s headlights flickered feebly.

“Don’t you dare vomit — there’s no spare petrol,” Bai Ma jumped down quickly, cursing: “Told you to go to Cape Town and wait for me. You insisted on tagging along.”

“I was afraid you’d stand me up,” the Cheetah huffed. “With a beauty at your side — would you still remember the good brother waiting for you, not at Daming Lake, but on the South African plains?!”

Elise suddenly broke into loud laughter — a wild laugh completely at odds with her usual cool and composed manner.

When she noticed that both Bai Ma and the Cheetah were watching her with peculiar expressions, she immediately recovered her composure, and turned away disdainfully.

“You’re not afraid of rats, I presume,” Bai Ma retrieved a moisture-proof mat and a small pillow from the Cheetah’s boot and tossed them to her in a heap. “I’ll sleep in the car — you find a spot and make yourself comfortable.”

Before he had finished speaking, everything — pillow and all — was tossed right back. Elise slipped with a whoosh into the Cheetah’s back seat and said to Bai Ma: “You go sleep with the rats.”

“Heh heh — I like beautiful ladies,” the Cheetah’s headlights blinked happily.

“Traitor, hmph!” Bai Ma spread his mat out on a small clear patch of ground beside the car, chased away the surrounding junk and rats, and lay down in exhaustion.

The sense of oppression within his body was growing heavier and heavier. His soul rocked and swayed inside its shell — as though one moment of inattention would send it flying loose. Bai Ma drew a deep breath, turned over, and instinctively pressed his hand against his chest.

The inside of the car wasn’t entirely quiet either. Elise turned over from time to time — her sleep was not peaceful at all. This girl’s sleep was poor: even when she’d been under his tranquilizer, Bai Ma had often seen her suddenly knit her brows in the middle of sleep, sometimes even balling her hands into fists.

The night stretched long. Bai Ma, unable to sleep, took out the “photograph” from the card holder and stared intently at the young woman inside, muttering the occasional word under his breath.

Swish! — the photograph was snatched from his hand without warning.

Elise sat beside him on a crate, scrutinizing the girl in the picture: “Your wife?”

Bai Ma didn’t answer. He took the photograph back and tucked the card holder safely away.

“Although she’s Chinese, her features have quite a resemblance to mine,” Elise tilted her head and looked at him. “Surely you wouldn’t have developed feelings for me because of this?”

“You’re overthinking things,” Bai Ma yawned. “You are only a job to me.”

Elise gave a cold smile: “Of course. You’re the kind of person who risks his life for diamonds. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll have them reward you with a few extra diamonds when the time comes.” She placed the emphasis squarely on the word reward.

“Thank you kindly,” Bai Ma replied with an easy smile, lying back down. “I’m going to sleep — I’m very tired.” Elise stepped over and kicked his arm.

“I’ve been running nonstop too — I’m exhausted, my lady!” Bai Ma opened one eye. “Whatever it is, can’t it wait until tomorrow?!”

“You went back to my home. I can smell it on you — the blood of my kin.” Elise’s face drew close to his, her sharp teeth beginning to show.

Bai Ma rolled to the side in one move, putting two steps of distance between them. He propped himself up and stared at her: “Yes.”

The graceful arches of Elise’s brows pulled together: “They…”

“All dead. The werewolves’ long-planned Blood Purge was formidable.” He offered no cushioning at all.

“Why did you suddenly go back?” Elise launched herself forward, one arm jamming against his throat, driving him hard back against the Cheetah.

“Because in your dreams you kept saying you were sorry — to your grandfather and to your clanspeople — saying it over and over and over.” Bai Ma met her eyes directly. “I went and conveyed your apology for you. That’s a free service, included at no charge.” He paused, then added: “You already knew long ago that I had gone to Lima — yet you waited until now to confront me about it. Were you afraid that hearing it from my lips would confirm their deaths?”

Elise’s arm went slack.

“By your grandfather’s pride — dying in battle against his sworn enemy was a form of glory for every member of your family. He knew long ago that the werewolves would strike in force, and he knew the odds were impossibly against him — but retreat was not permitted. You, however, were the exception.” Bai Ma tipped her chin up. “I’ve also been wondering — that old man, making this kind of choice in the end — did it turn out to be a loss, or a gain?”

She brushed his hand away and retreated to a darker corner, silent for a long moment before finally raising her head: “Do you truly understand what it means to live one day at a time, not knowing if you’ll see the next? To watch with your own eyes as your father, your mother, and your brother are bound by werewolves to crosses and reduced to ash in the sunlight? To be dragged from your sleep and shoved into a tiny sealed room, spending the whole night listening to the sounds of fierce fighting and screaming — and when you drift off and wake again, to find that your cold bare feet are always soaking in blood that has pooled into a river? And most terrifying of all — our enemies do not fear sunlight, and they are advancing at a maddening pace. Once, we were the only thing they feared: our speed and our strength, our blades and our bullets, like the scythe of the death god. Now — we are their prey.” She turned around. A film of grey shadow lay over her eyes. “You never know when the enemy’s teeth will suddenly strike, tearing your body apart. That kind of life does not change just because the location does.”

“And so you feel time is moving too slowly,” Bai Ma said with a slight smile. “And so in that motor inn, you were prepared to let the werewolves bite through your throat. You often think — ah, let time just stop like this. I’ve had enough. Everything ahead is only a repetition of despair. I have no strength left. I’m afraid. I don’t want to walk any further.”

Elise’s body gave a faint shudder. She said nothing.

“But it’s not that you have no strength — those two wolves at the end, it was you who finished them,” Bai Ma lay back where he’d been before, turned over. “The little shaved-head’s life may not be easier than yours. Good night.”

The cargo hold fell back into quiet. Only the Cheetah’s headlights were still on, the car door still open.

“Get a good night’s sleep, girl,” the Cheetah flashed its headlights at her and gave a yawn.

Outside the ship, the faint sound of the sea could be heard. Their ship sailed on, cutting through the waves.

Part Eight

Ding-ling-ling!

A few mountain-village teenagers cycling home late in the night passed by the window, leaving behind a trail of cheerful bicycle-bell sounds and curious glances.

“Wow — a small car!”

“Is that an off-roader? Our village has never had one of those come by! So cool!”

With praise like that, the Cheetah ran with jubilant energy over even the most twisting and bumpy mountain roads, leaving village after village far behind.

“Your route is too long and winding,” Elise frowned. “Driving from China all the way to Ukraine — it’s simply unimaginable.”

“Taking the road less traveled is my greatest virtue — everyone assumes we’d take a flight, so I don’t,” Bai Ma smiled. “You can see this whole stretch has been perfectly safe. And you should trust in the Cheetah’s endurance and speed — it’s not an ordinary vehicle, as you’ve already witnessed. At most another week, and you’ll be in the warm embrace of your fellow kind in Ukraine.”

“And then we’ll be parting forever,” she said.

“More or less,” he nodded.

At that moment, a long-dried riverbed came into view — pale grey stones layered dully within. A broken and worn half-stele stood across from a crooked-necked old tree, looking exceptionally bleak in the dim moonlight. Behind the stele, a scattering of dwellings, one of which hung a sign for a so-and-so inn.

Bai Ma stopped the car and said it would be light soon — they’d stay here.

The inn was very simple. Elise tossed and turned on the hard, narrow bed for a long time before falling asleep. When she woke, it was already the following dusk. The other bed had no sign of Bai Ma.

She moved to the window and carefully lifted a corner of the curtain. The last trace of sunlight had already sunk in the west. Outside the inn stretched an expanse of open space — aside from the Cheetah, there was only a single street lamp. In the pale white pool of light, a large dog barked intermittently in the direction of something ahead.

Bai Ma stood alone beneath the crooked-necked tree, his back against the trunk, gazing at the stele across from it with absorbed attention. She stepped out of the room and walked toward him.

“You’re awake?” Bai Ma asked, without turning his head.

“Ears sharper even than a dog’s,” she frowned. “All demons have excellent hearing, I suppose.”

“You really think I’m a demon?” Bai Ma turned his head and pointed at his own nose.

“The demon Bai Ma. Rumored to be the fastest demon in the world. Its true form is a white horse — capable of soaring through the clouds, crossing mountains and ridges, and equally able to take on human form and wander about freely.” Elise recited this calmly. “Though I haven’t felt you to be quite that formidable.”

Bai Ma smiled and asked: “Did the Cheetah ever tell you what Bai Ma’s true specialty is?”

Elise stared: “True specialty?”

“What Bai Ma truly excels at is fast-forwarding people’s time,” Bai Ma turned around, running a hand across the rough bark. “Many years ago, there was a young man who had left his home to seek a living in another city. He eventually lost his job, and too ashamed to return home, he shut himself away in a small inn, keeping company with despair day after day. One day, he heard the legend of Bai Ma, and went to great lengths to summon it to appear. He said his life was suffering, yet he could not bring himself to end it — and he begged it to make the time in his remaining life pass quickly. Bai Ma agreed, and said: then I will fast-forward your remaining decades into a single day.”

Elise was somewhat taken aback: “A single day?”

“And so, within that single day, the man watched — like a film on fast-forward — as every last bit of his remaining decades sped past before him. He saw how, half a year after losing his job, he stumbled upon a new opportunity. He rose steadily from there, and eventually married a virtuous and beautiful wife, was blessed with devoted children, and lived a healthy and peaceful old age.”

“And then?” she asked.

Bai Ma smiled. “What then? After that one day, the young man had become a decrepit old man. His wish had been granted — the long stretch of time he had despised was already rapidly behind him. This reckless man demanded that Bai Ma give him his time back — which of course could not be done. Time that has run cannot ever return. In the end, he apparently set the inn on fire.”

Elise bit her lip, lost in thought. After a long pause she finally raised her head: “You made that up?”

Bai Ma stuck out his tongue: “You saw through me?”

“Does this stele and this tree have a story too? You were staring at them so intently.” She looked at this strangely-shaped old tree. “I don’t mind if you keep making things up.”

Bai Ma leaned close to her ear and said in a deliberately eerie tone: “I’ll tell you — someone hanged themselves from this tree, and rumor has it the ghost lingered for many years. That’s not all — there’s also a body buried beneath this tree. A woman, apparently — and she looks rather like you!”

“How tedious,” Elise shot him a withering look.

To the sound of Bai Ma’s mocking laughter, the Cheetah’s engine roared back to life — carrying the vampire who was drawing ever closer to her destination, plunging into the vast night, racing northward.

Part Nine

“You’re truly not afraid of crosses and garlic?” Bai Ma smiled as he took in this solid underground fortress. Though compared to the vampire sanctuary beneath the Lima museum, this place was considerably narrower and more sparse — none of the splendid furnishings or fine furniture, and the number of people, too, was thin. From the time he had entered until now, he’d seen perhaps a dozen or twenty people come and go, and no more.

And yet the ceiling of this place was directly beneath the renowned Hagia Sophia Cathedral. Vampires living beneath a church — wasn’t that a touch peculiar?

“Those things like crosses only work on blood demons of the demon variety — do not lump us in with demons. Our origins are human as well,” said the man across from him, who was severe in expression and appeared quite young and handsome. He handed Bai Ma a black cloth bag. “I have read Patriarch Ailong’s letter. This is the payment he instructed me to give you. Thank you for bringing Miss Elise safely to Ukraine.”

Bai Ma pocketed the bag and looked around: “I’ve heard you were Ailong’s closest confidant — that he arranged long ago for you to quietly leave Peru and come here to manage a secret ‘villa.’ By the look of things, you’ve done well.”

“The werewolves search everywhere for traces of our kind and grow more and more audacious. Some kind of contingency had to be made — even if it seems futile to outsiders.” The man said frankly. “Following the patriarch’s instructions, I led a small number of our people and settled here in seclusion nearly a hundred years ago. To this day, no werewolf has discovered this place.”

“Will you go on hiding indefinitely?” Bai Ma asked.

“We will fight back,” the man answered without hesitation. “We have been researching antibodies against sunlight, and methods for dealing with the highest-ranking werewolves. Even if our entire clan were slaughtered by werewolves, there are still other vampire families in the world. Even if only one remained, the fight would not end.”

On the railing of the second floor, Elise stood quietly, looking down at the two men talking below. Behind her was an oil painting — a depiction of an angel, holding a rainbow, soaring toward a blazing sun in the sky.

Bai Ma rose from the sofa: “Then I wish you all good fortune! I’ve delivered the person to you intact and undamaged — the transaction is complete. Farewell.”

With that, he strode briskly toward the exit.

From here to ground level was a long way — Bai Ma remembered that the winding underground tunnel alone required twenty minutes to walk, and at the end of it, an elevator was still needed to reach the actual exit.

“Are you actually a demon or not?”

The question rang out through the dim tunnel.

He turned around. Elise, as was her habit, stood with her arms crossed, glaring coldly at him. The wall lamps installed on both sides cast a particularly bright gleam into her eyes.

“Not quite, I suppose,” he scratched his head.

“I really can’t figure you out,” Elise let her arms drop and sighed.

He suddenly remembered something. He walked over to her, pulled the chain Ailong had given him from his pocket, and draped it around her neck directly. The small red stone swayed at her chest, lustrous and full of life.

“This…”

“Your grandfather asked me to give it to you — he said it was left to him by his wife.” He spoke with a casual air. “That formidable grandmother of yours said that within this stone lives a heart that will never be extinguished. I don’t know much about stones like these myself, but out of curiosity I looked it up — apparently this kind of red stone, buried deep in the Andes, carries the soul of the bravest Inca warriors. It can awaken the courage and passion to go on living.”

Elise lowered her gaze to the beautiful little thing at her chest, holding back tears with great effort, refusing to let them fall.

“If you hadn’t come out, I might have pocketed the stone for myself,” he shrugged. “Looks like it might be worth something.”

“I am very weak,” Elise said suddenly, her tone laden with hesitation and self-doubt. “All my abilities are still unstable.”

“But you carry the bloodline of the highest-ranking vampires — that is something no one can take from you. It means your abilities, too, surpass everything else. Your parents and ancestors were all capable leaders. Even in death, their blood flows through your body.” Bai Ma held her gaze steadily. “Werewolves may be advancing quickly and terrifyingly, but you still have a chance — as long as you live.”

The corner of Elise’s mouth lifted: “So you can retire now?”

Bai Ma blinked and grinned: “That’s right — the Cheetah is waiting to grow old with me on the South African plains!”

“We won’t be in contact anymore?” she asked. “The two of us.”

“No more contact. Who knows if you’d end up drawing werewolves to me — I have no interest in fighting that pack of animals.” Bai Ma shook his head.

“What if one day I’m still eaten by werewolves?” She brought her face close. “Won’t you care even a little about whether I’m alive or dead?”

“Uh…” Bai Ma swiveled his eyes. “How about this — ten years. Ten years as the benchmark. If in ten years you’re still alive, have someone bury a bag of diamonds beneath that crooked-necked tree. And so on, every ten years — one bag!”

“Too greedy,” Elise frowned.

“It’s settled. I’m leaving.” Bai Ma wrapped her in a big hug, then kissed her cheek with the courtesy of a gentleman. “Remember — time brings surprises.”

With that, he turned and walked forward. He hadn’t gone far when he suddenly stopped, silent for a few seconds, then pulled out the black cloth bag and tipped a large pile of flawless diamonds from inside.

“Elise — does your name mean ‘goddess of the rainbow’?” He turned around. The diamonds shimmered in his palm.

Elise nodded: “My mother named me after her — a goddess who can face the sunlight and move freely between heaven and earth.”

Bai Ma smiled. Suddenly he pressed both hands together with great force, and a surge of radiance leapt from his palms. When he opened his hands again, a dazzling scatter of fine luminous points flew outward, lighting the entire tunnel as brilliantly as the middle of the day. Enveloped in that gentle glow, Elise felt for the first time as though she were standing in real sunlight.

“Sometimes I enjoy spending diamonds like this — what can I say, they’re so dazzling!” Bai Ma looked out at this man-made radiance. “Not real sunlight, perhaps — but just as brilliant. Only a bit too expensive!”

Elise stood stunned for a long moment. Then she scrubbed away one tear she couldn’t hold back, raised her head, and cursed: “You absolute wretch!”

But there was no response. In the tunnel, Bai Ma had long since vanished without a trace.

Part Ten

“You liar! You great big liar! What South African plains — not a chance in hell!”

Deep in the night, the Cheetah was parked not far from the broken stele and the crooked-necked tree. Bai Ma sat hunched in the driver’s seat, his face pale to the point of turning blue.

“I told you not to waste your powers — you never listen. Time and again, for that girl’s sake, you used them recklessly! Don’t you know you’re dying? You knew full well that if you stopped using your powers, you might live another hundred years or so! But now…” The Cheetah’s furious face nearly cracked the windshield.

A few snowflakes drifted lazily down from the sky.

Bai Ma’s eyes opened a little wider: “It’s snowing!”

“Did you hear a word I said, you dead demon! Dead Bai Ma!” the Cheetah’s face was nearly twisted beyond recognition. “You were so set on that girl — isn’t it because she looks like your old lover?!”

“Cheetah,” Bai Ma reached out and stroked its face. “You’re right to call me a liar. I truly did lie to you.”

The Cheetah froze.

“I’m not a demon at all. The real Bai Ma died of old age beneath this tree decades ago.” His gaze drifted to the crooked-necked tree. “I — am only a dead spirit that lived in this tree.”

The snow fell heavier. Bai Ma gazed blankly at these dancing flurries, his eyes growing distant and dreamy — as though on that road extending into the distance, a familiar figure was walking toward him…

That night, too, had been a wild storm of wind and snow.

He had worn a pale blue scholar’s robe — as thin as a sheet of paper, a picture of desolation and down-on-his-luck wretchedness.

Across from him, the Roll of Distinguished Men was engraved with names of honor, none of which he recognized — yet all of those names seemed to be mocking him, this destitute scholar who had failed the imperial examinations again and again.

He dared not return home. Dared not push open the door. Dared not face his younger sister again — she who had worked herself to the bone to support his studies. He could not bear to look into those eyes, always brimming with expectation. Time for him had become too slow, too agonizing — better to cut it short. He fashioned a rope into a loop and tied it to the crooked-necked tree.

The next day, villagers passing by found his stiff body swaying in the north wind. His spirit remained in the tree.

Some indeterminate number of years later, a white horse suddenly came galloping down from the sky, landing beneath the tree and transforming into a handsome young man. The man was injured, with very little energy — he leaned against the tree and rested for a long while.

“I am already very old — I’ll be dead soon,” the man had said unexpectedly one day, opening his eyes and speaking to him where he dwelled in the tree.

“You can see me?”

“Of course — I’m a demon.”

“A demon?”

“My name is Bai Ma.”

They began to talk — telling each other their stories, their lives. The humans passing by could neither see nor hear them. A lonely dead spirit and a demon on the verge of death — becoming kindred spirits presented no obstacle at all.

Bai Ma still had some power. He drew a ray of light from his hand and cast it onto the broken stele across the way — and moving scenes began to appear upon it. He watched in amazement as — had he been willing to return home that year — within a few years, he would have let go of his dreams of passing the imperial examinations, and taken up trade instead. He would have brought his younger sister to the capital. His business would have grown greater and greater. His sister would have married a good man. The family would have been warm and full of happiness, surrounded by children and grandchildren.

After the shock, he fell into silence — several days went by without a word from him.

Time will bring surprises, if you believe in it. That was the last thing Bai Ma said to him.

The next day, Bai Ma sat beneath the tree with his eyes closed. Strange rings of light flew out from his body.

He grew anxious, jumped down from the tree — and without anticipating it, stumbled into Bai Ma’s body. Then he discovered, with astonishment, that he too could transform into a horse capable of flight, or into a human. In some inexplicable fashion, he had inherited what little power Bai Ma had left, and became a kind of demon — though whether he truly qualified as one was uncertain.

He sat beneath the crooked-necked tree for three days, then decided to leave.

He could indeed run very fast, and he could also perform short-distance spatial movement. He gradually grew familiar with this fresh new world and ranged farther and farther. He found that the work he was best at — and that earned him the most — was helping people escape: kind souls being hunted down by scoundrels, brides or grooms being forced into loveless marriages, and others of the same kind — these were all his clients. Including the cheetah being chased by poachers — even though the desperate creature had ultimately died despite its will to survive, he had taken pity, and attached its soul to the car.

He also came to realize that his powers were slowly fading. The Cheetah, his good brother, knew this too — and had been urging him to retire ever since, to use his powers as little as possible at the very least. He had agreed, and they had even made a pact to settle down in South Africa. But then — when Ailong the vampire came to his door, and when he saw the photograph of Elise — his retirement plans were postponed.

The snow was falling heavier and heavier. The windshield had already turned a sheet of white.

“Cheetah — I don’t think I have the strength to make it to South Africa,” he said, drawing a deep breath. He reached into his coat pocket for the card holder, opened it — and the photograph slid out.

The stunned Cheetah came back to itself and asked: “That photograph — wasn’t the woman in it your first love?!”

“My younger sister,” Bai Ma said. A deep and heavy guilt surfaced in his eyes. “It was only much later that I learned she had been waiting all along for me to come back. I had died in a faraway place, with no one knowing my identity — so she was destined to wait for news of me forever. Not long after, she went to a cliff to gather medicinal herbs, hoping to sell them for money to go out and find me. The stones were slick from the rain. Her foot slipped. She fell. By the time she was pulled to safety, she could not be saved. I had someone paint her likeness because I wanted to tell her I was sorry, every single day.”

The Cheetah was quiet for a long moment, then said: “You were so devoted to that girl because she resembled your sister.”

“No.” Bai Ma shook his head. “It was because she resembled me — the way I was back then.”

With that, he closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath: “If there are diamonds in ten years — that’ll be enough.”

Sensing that something was very wrong, the Cheetah suddenly began to shake violently.

“Hey, hey — don’t you die on me! Hey! Bai Ma! Bai Ma!” the Cheetah shouted, shaking so hard it nearly cracked the windshield. The Cheetah’s voice grew more and more distant — as if the whole world was being carried away…

Part Eleven

“That fellow really was a fool — I was already dead to begin with, so how could I possibly die again? Oh my — this tea is so bitter, it’s terribly unpleasant to drink!” Across from me, the teacup was lifted by someone, and the sound of gulping could be heard, but not half a person was in sight.

“You’ve finished the tea and you still won’t show yourself?” I glared at that clump of air. Forgive me — just now, between flying into a rage and making a compromise, I chose the latter. For the sake of that very expensive chandelier.

“It’s not that I won’t show myself — I simply don’t have enough strength to gather into human form,” Bai Ma was equally helpless. “After that time, the last of Bai Ma’s powers were all spent by me. I floated out of that body and watched it dissolve into smoke and dust. After that, I couldn’t float very far anymore either — so I simply drifted back to that crooked-necked tree.”

“What about the Cheetah?” I asked. “That creature treated you pretty well.”

“Pretty well, my foot. It stayed with me a few months before crying from boredom, then went off to the South African plains on its own. It comes back to check on me occasionally, but every time it returns, there’s a different girl sitting in the driver’s seat — each one prettier than the last. I have no idea what it’s been up to.” The teacup was set down heavily on the table.

I rubbed my aching head: “Since you were sitting perfectly fine in that tree, why did you come drifting to my place?”

“Two years ago, that inn was torn down and replaced with a temple. The broken stele and the crooked-necked tree were fenced off into the temple’s back courtyard as ancient cultural relics. The Buddha radiates brilliance in all directions, monks chant scriptures day and night — do you think I could possibly stay there? I can’t even get in — not just the temple, I can’t get within a ten-li radius. Trying to get close gives me a terrible headache.” The voice of Bai Ma in the air beat his chest in distress. “I had no choice but to drift around, looking for someone reliable who might help me. Just when I was racking my brains and at my wit’s end, I suddenly remembered hearing a few bird demons chattering — that in the city of Wang Chuan, there was a place called Bu Ting, and inside it was a tree demon proprietress known for helping others.”

“Enough!” I cut him off. Now I finally understood why that old man had sent me the words tall tree catches the wind — even little bird demons gossiped about me everywhere. No wonder I attracted the wind! Not just the wind — spirits too! I am so furious! A chill ran up my wrist — clearly Bai Ma had come over and grabbed my hand.

“Ten years have already passed — help me with one thing! Just one! Or else I’ll haunt your inn forever, drifting back and forth every day!”

Epilogue

That small county town to the north was very far from Wang Chuan — the round trip alone took me half a day. Not only that, but I had a scuffle with a fat monk in the back courtyard of the temple, knocked him out cold, and only then managed to reach the base of that crooked-necked tree, where I dug with a hoe until I was covered head to toe in dirt.

I came back to Bu Ting, dusty and disheveled, only to find that the old man’s fortune-telling stall had already vanished. In the spot where it had been, someone had written eight characters in chalk — There is plenty of time ahead. Until we meet again.

I felt the urge to curse again. That old man appeared for the sole purpose of deliberately spreading unease, didn’t he — who wants to meet again with a tiresome old codger like him?!

The moment I stepped through the door, a chill swept over me. Bai Ma’s voice asked at once: “Any diamonds? Any diamonds?!”

I sat down and took a long drink of water, then said with certainty: “None. I nearly dug through to the other side of the earth.”

Silence. Bai Ma made no response for a very long time.

“However, I found this—” I pulled out a thin silver case and opened it to reveal a letter sealed shut with wax. I watched as it was snatched up at lightning speed, broken open, and a photograph drawn out.

Leaning over to look — the photograph showed a young couple. The woman had ink-black hair, not quite Western nor quite Eastern in appearance, with a pair of striking golden eyes. The man had golden hair, a high nose and deep-set eyes. The golden-haired baby in their arms was adorable enough to make you want to take a bite. All three smiled at the camera with radiant brightness. By my aesthetic standards, both of this couple’s appearances could be described as divine — beautiful in a way that didn’t seem quite of this world.

On the back of the photograph were a few brief lines —

The diamonds are all gone — all the funds have been channeled into researching the antibody. It has entered the experimental stage. This man is the bravest of our kind I have ever known; even a whole pack of werewolves is no match for him. We have been married three years now. Our child’s nickname is Bai Ma. You are his godfather — whether you are here or not. Give my regards to the Cheetah.

Also — I believe time brings surprises, and so I will never betray it.

I felt a sudden release, as though I’d let out a great breath — even a faint trace of joy.

Wait — my husband and my helper are both missing, and I’m still finding room for joy?!

Then that chill swept over me again — this time to my cheek. That scoundrel Bai Ma must have kissed me.

“Why haven’t you left yet?!” I pressed my hand to my face, snatched up the fly swatter, and aimed it at the empty air in front of me. “I’ve lost money on travel expenses on top of everything — I didn’t even charge you for a room — are you satisfied?!”

“Now listen here, proprietress — I’ve been thinking: I can’t accept someone’s kindness for nothing. How about this — you find me some object, and use your powers to let me inhabit it, the same way I once handled the Cheetah. I’ll work for you for free — for as long as you like!”

“Really?” A mischievous idea came to me suddenly.

“Of course!”

“How about a fly swatter?”

“Not that one!”

“The fly swatter it is!”

Bu Ting erupted into glorious chaos once more. If anyone passed by, they’d certainly think I had lost my mind from grief over my husband’s disappearance — chasing through the air all over the house, swinging a fly swatter.

I am not an all-powerful deity — though in the eyes of many people and many spirits, I have already become a seasoned veteran who has weathered every storm unmoved. Some would believe it if told there was a halo over my head. Yet the truth is not so.

I have to admit — before Bai Ma appeared, I was anxious, even flustered. All kinds of negative thoughts were clouding my judgment. The important people in my life had vanished — how could I possibly be indifferent? But it is much better now. Because the idea that time brings surprises — I believe in it too.

As long as I still have time, then — everything can be found again.