At dawn, a thin mist shrouded the entire mountain village, with trees and houses looming dimly through it. Now and then, a couple of dogs barked, their voices mingling with the crowing of roosters. Usually, those were the only sounds to be heard at this hour.
But this day was very different. Festive music and drums rang out at first light, followed by a procession dressed in red ceremonial clothes, making its noisy way from the eastern end of the village toward the west. At its head rode a tall, burly man of about twenty on an old horse. He wore bright red wedding clothes and a large red flower pinned to his hair, his face beaming with joy.
The horse was hardly a magnificent steed, but in this little mountain village, it was absolutely one of a kind. As the procession advanced, villagers flocked over to watch. A journey of less than two li somehow took a full hour.
Goudanzi still wore his split-crotch trousers and sat on his little stool, but today he had moved it outside the door. Behind him, the front door was firmly shut. With a cheeky grin, the brat watched the approaching procession play and drum its way toward him, sitting as immovable as Mount Tai.
"Halt!"
At that shrill cry, the wedding procession stopped. The matchmaker, dressed as showily as a blossoming branch, came over with a fan in her hand and a smile on her face.
"Oh, if it isn't the Zhou family's fourth boy! What are you doing sitting here today, copying the others and blocking the door? Here, Seventh Granny has some sweets. Go eat them over there!" As she spoke, she produced three or four sweets from somewhere and pressed them into Goudanzi's hand. Meanwhile, her other hand caught his sleeve, trying to haul him off the stool and out of the way.
"You think you can get off that easily? Where's my red envelope?"
Goudanzi shrieked and flung up his hand, sending the sweets flying in all directions. One struck Seventh Granny squarely on the forehead.
"My sister said I'm not to move unless you give me a proper red envelope!"
The crowd around them burst out laughing. Wang Tianlei laughed too, then jumped down from his horse, walked over to Goudanzi, took a red envelope from inside his clothes, and pressed it into his hand.
Goudanzi hefted it. It felt fairly heavy. Opening it, he found three or four copper coins inside. Satisfied, he immediately stood up, carried his little stool to one side, and sat down to watch the groom call for the door to be opened.
Blocking the door was only meant to be a token gesture. For a mountain family, three or four copper coins were already a considerable sum. Besides, though he looked like a three- or four-year-old child, his body housed a grown man in his twenties or thirties. He would have felt embarrassed himself if he kept making a fuss. He had no intention of making things difficult for anyone.
Sangouzi, hiding behind the door, was another matter. He made a tremendous racket and kept them out for more than an hour before finally letting the bride-fetching party inside.
What followed was simple. They just went through the motions.
Though Goudanzi came from another world and had never seen an ancient wedding before, a wedding in a little mountain village like this was plainly nothing like those in the period dramas he had watched in his previous life, much less those described in novels. Everything was very simple. After some boisterous fun while fetching the bride, there would be teasing in the bridal chamber. Clearly, none of that had anything to do with him.
What he looked forward to most now was the feast.
Since his birth, he had never really eaten a decent meal except during the New Year celebrations.
In truth, everyone had precious little fat in their bellies these days. A chance like this to get some meat was welcome indeed.
The wedding was lively. Everyone in the village who could come had come, bringing their whole families along. Clearly, they had the same idea as Goudanzi.
The food had yet to be served, but the tea was already prepared. Sunflower seeds, peanuts, and similar snacks were indispensable too. So the neighbors sat together around the tables, chatting,
shooting the breeze, telling jokes, scolding grandsons, and beating sons-there was a bit of everything. Every face was wreathed in smiles, as though it were their own family bringing home a bride. A festive air filled the place, until a scream came from outside the gate.
It was a piercing scream, not of excitement, but of terror.
The moment he heard it, Goudanzi's heart leaped into his throat. Why? Because he recognized his sister Zhou Hua's voice.
Zhou Hua was more than ten years older than Goudanzi. From the moment he was born, she had been responsible for looking after him, raising him to this age with her own hands, so he knew her extremely well. Zhou Hua, in turn, adored her sweet little brother. He was far more obedient than that little bastard Sangouzi. Thus, the moment Goudanzi heard the scream, he knew it was hers.
Zhou Hua had not entered the house yet. She was still in the bridal sedan chair. Judging by everyone's excitement just moments earlier, the chair had clearly been about to enter Wang Tianlei's gate.
According to custom, the bride was not supposed to make a sound at this point, much less leave the sedan chair. For her to scream like that, something must have happened.
With no time to think, Goudanzi dashed out of Wang Tianlei's humble courtyard. He was not the only one rushing out-the entire courtyard emptied with him. Once outside, everyone froze at the sight beyond the gate. Goudanzi froze too.
What was that thing?
A dog? A wolf?
He had never seen anything that big!
The bridal sedan chair had fallen apart. Thankfully, Zhou Hua was unharmed, though the red veil covering her head had fallen to the ground. A glaring pool of crimson blood lay on the earth, but only one of the eight bearers had been injured. The blood was his. He had not fled, however. Along with the other bearers, he formed a semicircle, hemming in the culprit.
The surrounded creature clearly had no awareness of its predicament. It stood there leisurely chewing its latest prize: a large chunk of flesh torn from the injured bearer's left hand.
It was a wolf, an enormous wolf. In shape, it was no different from the wolves Goudanzi had seen in his previous life. The only difference was its size. It was as big as a Siberian tiger.
He had never seen a wolf so large.
Glossy black fur covered the wolf from head to tail, but its left eye drew the most attention. It had no left eye. In its place was a huge scar stretching all the way to its forehead, impossible to miss.
"Old One-Eye! Old One-Eye from West Mountain has come down!"
A startled cry rose from the crowd, followed by a wave of chaos.
Old One-Eye of West Mountain!
At those words, Goudanzi's heart leaped once again.
To the people of this mountain village, Old One-Eye of West Mountain was a legend.
A legend of the fiercest beast in the mountains. According to the tale, Old One-Eye had once led a wolf pack as its king, only to lose a struggle within the pack. The new wolf king had clawed out one of his eyes, leaving him barely alive. Abandoned by the pack, he had become a lone wolf, left to live or die on his own.
Such things were hardly unusual; they happened among wolves from time to time. Yet for some unknown reason, two years later, Old One-Eye had returned to the pack. Not only had he killed the wolf king who had defeated him, but over the course of five full years, he had bitten every wolf from his old pack to death, becoming a true lone wolf.
Of course, this was only a legend, one that had circulated in the mountain village for nearly a hundred years.
Goudanzi had always scoffed at it. Returning to the pack two years later, then spending five years killing every wolf in it-however he looked at it, that sounded like something out of a novel. How did anyone know it had been two years? How did they know Old One-Eye had taken five years? Had whoever left this legend behind followed him around all those years?
Besides, the legend had been passed down for a hundred years. Even if it were true, Old One-Eye should have died long ago. Wolves did not live as long as humans; twenty years was their limit. After a hundred years, even the most formidable wolf should have been nothing but bones. Could the creature have become a demon?
The ridiculous thing was that even now, the villagers still treated West Mountain as forbidden ground. The hunters never dared venture there, afraid of trespassing against that legendary lone wolf.
Now Goudanzi felt that he himself was the ridiculous one, because he had seen with his own eyes the forbidden legend that had haunted the village for nearly a hundred years: Old One-Eye.
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