Though technically Inner Mongolia, it wasn't far from Heilongjiang, almost brushing the border of Outer Mongolia. The residents were predominantly Han Chinese, with only a few Manchus and Mongols. If you had never been to Ganggangyingzi, you could never imagine how harsh that place was. There were six of us sent there as educated youth—four men and two women. The moment we arrived, we were stunned; it was surrounded by rolling mountains and endless virgin forest. Once you left the small settlement, you wouldn't see another soul for hundreds of li.

There were no roads here, let alone electricity. Having an oil lamp was already a privilege reserved for cadres. In this place, using a flashlight was equivalent to staying in a presidential suite today. It was completely unimaginable back in the city; we had always assumed that all across our motherland, everyone lived with running water, electric lights, and telephones.

But there was a novelty to it back then. We had never seen mountains so vast, and many of the things produced in the mountains were things we’d never tasted. The nearby mountains were quite abundant, rich in wild local products, and we could catch fish in the river, so we never truly went hungry. Later, after returning to the city, we heard those sent to Shaanxi speak of true hardship; they hadn't seen a single decent grain of rice for years.

The work for us educated youth wasn't too strenuous because this area lived off the mountains; not much in the way of crops was planted. In the summer evenings, we took turns guarding the fields, as we feared wild beasts would devour the harvest, so one or two people had to spend the night in the fields every night.

The crops in the mountains weren't like the vast green seas of grain in the North China Plain; instead, they were patches here and there, wherever the land was flat enough to clear a field. So, we often had to walk around at night. This particular night, it was Fatty’s turn and mine to watch. Fatty slept in the thatched shed while I walked around the perimeter. Seeing nothing amiss, I headed back to sleep.

As I approached the shed, I saw a large, roundish white shadow not far from it. I rubbed my eyes and looked again—I definitely wasn't hallucinating. But it was too dark to make out what it was. I didn't believe in ghosts back then; I assumed it was some kind of animal, so I picked up a wooden stick, intending to drive it away.

In the absolute darkness, this clump of white, indistinct mass was moving slightly. What on earth was it? It didn't look like an animal, but if it wasn't an animal, why was it moving? It was too dark, and I had no kerosene lamp to illuminate it. I couldn't distinguish the object.

Although I wasn't afraid of ghosts, facing the unknown always instilled a degree of apprehension, so I dared not swing the stick directly at it. The stick in my hand was just a thick branch I’d picked up from the ground. I gently poked the pile of white, soft-looking substance with the branch... Suddenly, in the darkness, I heard Fatty shout, “Ah... What are you doing? Hu Bayi! Why are you poking my backside with a stick?”

It was a false alarm. It turned out Fatty had eaten some spoiled fruit during the day, which gave him an upset stomach that night, and he was squatting there relieving himself. In the dark, his big white posterior stood out conspicuously.

The next morning, Fatty relentlessly demanded compensation, claiming I had scared away over a million of his brain cells the night before. I retorted, "With a brain like yours, how could you possibly have that many cells? Both you and I are poor bachelors, having accepted the highest directive to receive necessary re-education from the poor and lower-middle peasants in the countryside. What compensation do you expect me to offer? I’m telling you now, as your closest revolutionary comrade, all I own is the very last pair of pants on my body. You wouldn't ask me to compensate you with these, would you?"

Fatty grinned mischievously. "No need for that. Yesterday, in that old forest near Tuan Shanzi, I spotted a very large beehive. You come with me, and we'll knock it down. We can get some honey to mix with water, or we can trade the honey with Yanzi's father for some rabbit meat."

Yanzi was the name of a girl, and her father was a renowned local hunter. Fatty and I lived at the educated youth point at their house. The father and daughter often went hunting in the mountains and frequently treated us to wild game. We always felt bad about constantly accepting their kindness, but we were truly too poor and had nothing to offer in return to Yanzi and her father.

Since Fatty had found a big beehive, we decided to retrieve some honey to give to Yanzi. Both of us were impulsive; what we decided, we did immediately. Back in the city, Fatty and I were notorious troublemakers throughout the entire military region; knocking down a beehive was nothing—we often engaged in exploits ten times more daring.

Fearing we might get lost, I borrowed Yanzi’s hound. It was a half-grown puppy she had raised herself. Yanzi had named the dog Lizi Huang (Chestnut Yellow) and hadn't yet taken it hunting. Seeing we were going to Tuan Shanzi, she lent the dog to us.

The straight-line distance from our village to Tuan Shanzi wasn't far, but since there were no roads, it took us half a day of climbing over mountains and traversing ridges to reach it. This forest was immense. The villagers had warned us not to venture inside, saying there were 'Man-Bears' roaming there. We had seen a man in the village who only had half a face; he encountered a Man-Bear here as a child, and luckily, Yanzi’s father arrived in time, scared the creature off with a gunshot, and saved him. But the boy’s face was licked by the Man-Bear. The creature's tongue was covered in backward-pointing barbs, and one lick peeled off a large patch of flesh. His left face lacked an eye and ear, and his nose and mouth were twisted. He was already over forty and still unmarried. The elders in the village would tear up whenever they spoke of his fate.

Though we were daring, we didn't dare blindly enter the virgin forest. The beehive Fatty mentioned was one he spotted near the edge of the forest, close to a stream, in a large tree, while gathering pine nuts with some villagers.

To our surprise, the beehive was enormous—larger than all the ones we had knocked down previously combined. From a distance, it looked like a small calf hanging from the tree without limbs. Swarms of huge, dark hornets flew in and out, their buzzing deafening.

I said, "Little Fatty, are you trying to set me up? Is this a beehive? This is practically a hornet atomic bomb! If this thing explodes, what then?" Fatty replied, "Exactly. If it were an ordinary hive, why would I need you? I would have handled it myself. Well? Do you still dare to do it?"

I declared, "What's this? Our team is invincible! We didn't even fear the American imperialists' planes and tanks, so why fear a few little bees? They are all paper tigers! Let's go get that honey today!"

Even saying that, we couldn't rush in recklessly. Any small mistake could lead to us being stung to death. Hornets this size were surely venomous; one or two stings would finish us. Luckily, there was a small river nearby—heaven sent. I first took out a biscuit, broke off two pieces, fed them to Lizi Huang, and sent it running far away. Then, we both put on the military greatcoats we brought, wore our sheepskin hats, tied on our neck gaiters, put on gloves, and covered the front of our hats with a transparent gauze scarf borrowed from the women in the educated youth group. After checking that not a single patch of skin was exposed, we asked Fatty to find two hollow reeds—one for each of us—to use for breathing when we jumped into the river to evade the swarm attack.

When preparations were complete, we walked toward the tree like two clumsy bears, stumbling with every step. I stood ready, holding a clump of winter grass and matches, while Fatty held a long pole, counting: "One, two, three." At three, he violently thrust the long pole into the section connecting the hive to the tree trunk. After four or five jabs, the massive hive thumped down onto the ground. The countless large hornets immediately erupted as if they had gone mad, forming a vast black cloud in the sky, buzzing and covering us.

I was well-prepared. Ignoring the swarm's initial assault, I used the matches to light the winter grass and placed it downwind from the hive. The giant hornets flying out were instantly disoriented by the smoke and flew everywhere erratically. Fatty and I then used soil to build a small firebreak around the burning dry grass to prevent the whole mountain from catching fire.

By then, the hornets not affected by the smoke had clearly identified their targets and began diving at us. I felt like hailstones were hitting my head—pat-pat-pat—in rapid succession. Without daring to linger, Fatty and I rushed toward the nearby stream. The water wasn't deep, less than a meter, and we plunged straight to the bottom. The hornets on our bodies were washed away by the current. I used one hand to hold down my sheepskin hat so the water wouldn't sweep it away, and the other to grab the reed to breathe.

After a long while, I dared to lift my head. I found that the hornets were either drowned by the water or stunned by the smoke; the danger had passed. Although it was high summer, the mountain stream was cold. I was trembling all over from being soaked, and I scrambled onto the bank, lying on a rock and gasping for air. The sun overhead warmed my body, which felt indescribably comforting.

A moment later, Fatty couldn't hold out either and staggered onto the bank. Halfway up, he suddenly cried out, "Ow!" and jerked his arm up. A deep gash had appeared on his hand from something, and blood was flowing freely.

I quickly waded back into the stream to help him. Fatty clutched his wound and said, "Be careful, there seems to be a broken bowl in this river! Damn it, it stabbed me!"

No one lived in this vicinity, so how could there be a broken bowl? My curiosity piqued, I stripped down, bare-chested, and dove into the stream to feel around. At the spot where Fatty was cut, I felt half of a broken porcelain bowl. Looking at the style and the blue and white patterns, it somewhat resembled the pieces my grandfather used to collect—Northern Song blue-and-white ware.

My grandfather's antiques and calligraphy had all been smashed by the Red Guards during the 'Smash the Four Olds' campaign. To think I'd find a remnant of such an antique deep in this remote mountain forest—it felt strangely familiar. However, this object was useless to me. I raised my hand and flung the half-bowl far off into the woods.

Fatty also stripped off his soaked clothes, haphazardly wrapped his cut hand, and jumped back into the stream. We both took a bath, then carefully laid out our clothes, socks, and shoes one by one on the smooth river stones by the bank. I whistled to call Lizi Huang back.

Lizi Huang came running back from the distance, a fat, gray wild rabbit dangling from its mouth. I couldn't figure out how this unlucky rabbit managed to end up in the jaws of a mere trainee hound like Lizi Huang. Seeing the rabbit, I was overjoyed and rolled around on the ground a few times with Lizi Huang. What a good dog! I broke off a large piece of the honeycomb, still dripping with honey, and rewarded it.

Fatty exclaimed, "When we get back, we should ask around and raise a few more puppies. Then we'll have rabbit meat every day."

I said, "Don't dream so big! No matter how many rabbits are in these mountains, they won't last long with a glutton like you. Enough nonsense. I'm actually quite hungry. Hurry up and clean that rabbit; I’ll go gather some firewood and start a fire."

Fatty cleaned and skinned the rabbit by the stream, and I gathered a bundle of dry pine branches to start a bonfire. I slathered the skinned rabbit with a thick layer of honey, skewered it on a rack over the flames, and roasted it. Soon, the aroma of honey-glazed roasted rabbit filled the air. I cut off the rabbit head and fed it to the dog, then split the remaining meat in half and feasted with Fatty. In my entire life, I had never eaten anything so delicious; I almost swallowed my fingers. Although seasoned with nothing but wild honey and roasted over pine branches, the wild rabbit meat had a unique, natural flavor—something you could never imagine in the city. Life as an educated youth was full of both bitterness and joy. Driven by society to these remote mountain areas, while we lost some things, we gained others that were unattainable in the city. It seems some aspects of life cannot be measured by gain or loss.

After eating our fill, as it was getting late and our clothes were mostly dry, we threaded the enormous beehive onto a thick branch. We lifted it together, one in front and one behind, marching back to the village while loudly singing revolutionary songs: "Heaven and Earth are vast~ but not as vast as our collective resolve~ Father and mother are dear~ but not as dear as the Communist Party's grace!" This was truly a triumphant return, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of the branch. The only discordant note in our loud revolutionary chorus was Lizi Huang’s excited barking, which made the whole scene feel a bit like the atmosphere in a movie when the Japanese devils entered a village.

When we got back to the settlement, we saw that more than half the people were gone. I asked Yanzi, "Yanzi, where did your father and the others go?"

Yanzi helped us lift the hive and replied, "The Chaganhai River flooded, and the timber from the logging camp got waterlogged. Most of the villagers went there at noon to help move logs. The Party Secretary asked me to tell you two to watch the crops well and not cause trouble; they won't be back for seven or eight days."

I dislike hearing people tell me not to cause trouble the most, as if I were inherently a troublemaker. So, I said to Yanzi, "The Party Secretary must have been confused from drinking. What trouble could we possibly cause? We are all Chairman Mao’s good children."

Yanzi laughed. "You still don't cause trouble? Ever since you few educated youths from the city arrived, the village hens have stopped laying eggs because you all cause such a ruckus."

The other two male educated youths who came with us had also gone to the logging camp. Only Fatty, myself, and the other two young women remained. We felt very fortunate not to have been assigned to the logging camp because we were out exploring. We drained the honey into more than ten large earthenware jars. Yanzi said the leftover honeycomb could be cooked as a vegetable dish and that she would make us stir-fried squirrel with honeycomb that evening.

Fatty cheered up at the mention of food, saying, "Our little life today is like the New Year! We just ate roasted rabbit meat this afternoon, and tonight we get squirrel stir-fried with honeycomb. My mouth is watering just thinking about it." Yanzi asked where we had roasted the rabbit. I recounted the experience. Yanzi exclaimed, "Oh dear, you shouldn't be messing around like that! Roasting a wild rabbit near the old forest—what if the meat aroma attracts a Man-Bear?"

Only then did we recall that it was indeed incredibly dangerous. Luckily, the Man-Bear must have been sleeping today and didn't catch the scent of the roasting meat. While helping Yanzi start the fire, I mentioned Fatty’s hand getting cut by the broken bowl in the stream. How could such a Song Dynasty blue-and-white porcelain bowl be found in such a desolate wilderness?

Yanzi said that wasn't strange at all. "When girls from our village get married, every family has a few pots and jars as part of their dowry—all fished out of the river."

The more I listened, the stranger it sounded. You can fish antiques out of a river? Yanzi rummaged under her bed and pulled out two porcelain vases for me to see: "They don't grow in the river; they are all washed down from upstream. The sources of the few rivers near our village are all in Lama Gully, on Ox Heart Mountain. The elders say that mountain is the tomb of some Empress Dowager from the Liao or Jin dynasties, buried there with heaps of treasures. Many people have tried to find that tomb, but they either never found it or they entered Lama Gully and couldn't get out. The forest in Lama Gully is too dense. My father once saw a wild man lurking in there, and some people say Ox Heart Mountain is haunted. In any case, no one has dared to go there in years."

As they spoke, dusk settled. Yanzi finished cooking the meal. Fatty went to call the other two young women to eat, but he came running back breathlessly with one of them, a girl named Wang Juan. I quickly asked what happened.

Wang Juan gasped out an explanation: The family of the other young woman, Tian Xiaomeng, had sent a letter saying her mother had been hospitalized with a severe asthma attack. Tian Xiaomeng had heard that the 'Bodhisattva Fruit' that grows in Lama Gully was highly effective for asthma, so she went off alone early this morning to collect it. She hadn't returned by nightfall.

My veins nearly popped out of my forehead. How could Tian Xiaomeng be so reckless? That area was all virgin forest; even experienced village hunters wouldn't venture in casually. How could she go into the deepest part of the great mountains all by herself?

Wang Juan cried, "I couldn't stop her! Let’s go find her quickly! What if something bad happened?"

However, all the village laborers were at the logging camp. Those left behind were either too old or too young. If anyone was going to search, it had to be Fatty and me. Yanzi decided to join us, bringing Lizi Huang and her hunting rifle, leaving Wang Juan in the village to look after the crops.

Having a dog in the mountains means you don't fear getting lost. We couldn't delay. Lighting torches and leading Lizi Huang, we plunged into the mountains that very night. There were no paths at all in the deep forest. I truly couldn't fathom how Tian Xiaomeng, a lone girl, dared to venture into the deepest parts of the wilderness by herself. Fatty suggested she might have been too panicked. Who wouldn't be anxious when their own mother is ill?

Because it was dark and Lizi Huang had no professional tracking training, the dog frequently lost the scent trail, forcing us to double back and search again. So, we moved very slowly. A journey that usually took four or five hours took us the entire night. As the eastern sky brightened, the morning breeze in the great forest raised goosebumps on our skin, and the fresh air instantly invigorated us. Yanzi pointed west: "Look, that large mountain is Ox Heart Mountain."

Fatty and I looked west. Among the ranges covered by the vast sea of trees, a strangely shaped, colossal peak stood tall. The entire mountain resembled the shape of an ox's heart, with nine waterfalls, like nine white jade dragons, cascading down from it. The porcelain ware the villagers found was washed out of these very waterfalls. It seemed the legendary tomb of the Liao Dynasty Empress Dowager might indeed be inside that mountain, yet no one had found an entrance after all these years.

Seeing this spectacular peak, I suddenly had a feeling—a feeling that I might have seen such a mountain landscape somewhere before. A thought sparked, and I finally remembered a passage I had casually read while flipping through the tattered book my grandfather left behind. This configuration of mountains and water formed an extremely auspicious Feng Shui site: looking ahead there was promise, behind there was support, and the nine waterfalls resembled nine dragons drawing water, dividing the hill into a shape like a blooming lotus flower. Yes, it was called something like "Nine Dragons Enveloping the Jade Lotus."

If this mountain had more or fewer than nine waterfalls, or if the water volume wasn't this great, it wouldn't qualify as the "Nine Dragons Enveloping the Jade Lotus" formation. Nine, being the largest single digit, carries the hidden meaning of supremacy, and its pronunciation is similar to jiu (long-lasting), implying eternity; it has always been regarded as the most auspicious number. Furthermore, if the water flow of the waterfalls were smaller, they wouldn't be called dragons; they would be snakes.

This Feng Shui treasure site also has another name: "Luo Shen Nian" (The Luminous Goddess's Chariot). According to the book, it is most suitable for burying a female; if a male is interred here, his entire clan will suffer great misfortune.

At that moment, a vague feeling grew within me: my grandfather's book, the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Art, was not some nonsensical 'Four Olds.' The content held real substance. I must reread it carefully when I return.

However, I didn't believe this kind of Feng Shui practice held much practical value. Since ancient times, China has had countless emperors and generals—which one was buried haphazardly? Can the historical torrent of dynastic changes, prosperity, and decline really be dictated by whether an ancestral grave is well-situated?

Yanzi pointed toward the valley before Ox Heart Mountain: "This is the infamous Lama Gully. Legend says there are wild men in there, and it plays tricks on people at night."

Fatty looked at the towering, dense virgin forest in the valley, frowning. "If Tian Xiaomeng entered Lama Gully, she’ll definitely get lost. With just the three of us and one dog, finding her will be quite difficult."

Seeing them looking discouraged, I cheered them up: "We materialist Communists shouldn't believe in ghosts. Whether it's a ghost or a wild man, if I run into one, it’ll be its bad luck. I’ll capture a few alive and take them to Beijing to present to Chairman Mao. Chairman Mao will surely be astonished."

Fatty and I both came from military families; there was an innate component in our blood that feared nothing. Hearing me say that, he also rallied, rubbing his hands in preparation to enter the gully.

Only Yanzi looked deeply worried. As a local, she had grown up hearing countless terrifying legends about this Lama Gully, naturally developing an ingrained sense of dread. But saving a person was the priority now; she had to push those fears aside.

The three of us first sat down to eat some dry rations and check our gear. In total, we had two hunting rifles—the ones Swallow and her father used for hunting. One was a triple-barrel, and the other was a muzzle-loading gun common among the Oroqen people. Both were primitive, muzzle-loading firearms. They had significant stopping power at close range, but maintaining power and accuracy beyond thirty-five meters was difficult. They were only really effective against targets like rabbits or roe deer.

I had been taken to the shooting range by my father since I was six and was quite familiar with the standard issue rifles and carbines of the People's Liberation Army. However, I had absolutely no confidence in handling these muzzle-loading flintlock hunting rifles. Fatty and I had similar experience levels. We conferred: Swallow and I would each take a rifle, and Fatty would carry a wood-chopping machete. Once prepared, the three of us plunged into the dense woods of Lama Gully.

In Lama Gully, compared to the legendary yeren (wild men) and mountain ghosts, the most real and direct threat came from the renxiong (man-bear). Although the renxiong was a type of bear like the black bear (heixiazi), it earned its name because it preferred to walk upright on two legs. The renxiong was enormous, with thick hide and heavy flesh. Hunters only dared to attack them when they went out in large groups accompanied by many hounds. If a lone person, armed with a shoddy gun, encountered a renxiong in the primeval forest, it was almost equivalent to a death sentence.

After walking in the woods for most of the day, the roaring sound of the water from the Nine Great Waterfalls on Niuxin Mountain grew steadily louder. It was clear we were reaching the end of Lama Gully and were close to the foot of Niuxin Mountain.

We hadn't encountered any renxiong or yeren, nor had we found any trace of Tian Xiaomeng. Fatty collapsed onto the ground, exhausted: "I can't... anymore... I just can't walk."

Swallow suggested, "Then let's rest for a bit. Lizi Huang doesn't seem to be picking up Tian Xiaomeng's scent either. Sigh, what should we do? If we can't find her, the Party Secretary and my father will surely scold me to death when they get back."

I was utterly worn out too. I picked up my canteen and took a few long gulps, then said to the other two, "Maybe Tian Xiaomeng was eaten by a renxiong? Or perhaps she was captured by a yeren and made into the lady of the stockade."

While we were resting and chatting, we suddenly heard Lizi Huang barking furiously toward the depths of the dense forest. Hounds of pure bloodlines never barked like that unless they were facing extreme danger.

I asked Swallow, "What's wrong with the dog? Did it find some wild beast?"

Swallow’s face turned ashen: "Climb the trees, quick! It’s a renxiong."

Hearing it was a renxiong, I scrambled up a large tree in a few quick movements. Looking down, I saw Swallow straining to boost Fatty’s rear end. Fatty couldn't climb; he clung desperately to the trunk, inching his way upward. I quickly slid back down and, together with Swallow, helped push Fatty’s backside. Fatty finally managed to haul himself onto the lowest large fork in the branches, panting heavily, he lay there saying, "This... tree... is too high!"

Lizi Huang’s barking grew more frantic. Before Swallow and I could fully ascend, a black-furred renxiong burst through the undergrowth. Seeing living prey, it immediately became excited, rising onto its hind legs and roaring like thunder.

Swallow, having hunted in the mountains with her father for years, was extremely experienced. Without overthinking, she raised her rifle and fired at the renxiong. Boom! A flash of fire erupted, and the projectile struck the beast squarely in the belly.

Because the distance was short and the renxiong's abdomen was its softest spot, this shot tore a large hole in its stomach, with blood and intestines spilling out simultaneously. Wounded, the renxiong became furious, stuffing its own intestines back in with its massive paws, and then lunged savagely at Swallow. Her rifle couldn't be fired again rapidly; with trees and thorns behind her, she had nowhere to flee and could only close her eyes and wait for death.

Saving her was paramount. I didn't stop to think, quickly raising my rifle and aiming for the renxiong's head. If this shot missed, Swallow was finished. My hand trembled at the thought. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the trigger. With a deafening boom, the tremendous recoil from the muzzle-loader nearly flipped me over, sending me tumbling to sit heavily on the ground. I couldn't tell if the gun's power was insufficient or if I had shot wide, but although I struck the renxiong's head, I only managed to blind one of its eyes.

This shot, while not fatal, did save Swallow. The renxiong, now blind in one eye and with blood streaming down its face—half an eyeball dangling from the socket—became even more frenzied. It ignored Swallow and charged straight at me.

At that moment, Lizi Huang lunged from behind and bit down hard on the renxiong's hind leg. The beast twisted its head to grab Lizi Huang, but the dog was agile; seeing the bear turn, it darted far away, baring its teeth in a provocative challenge.

This momentary distraction bought Swallow and me the crucial ten seconds needed to scramble up the trees.

The renxiong was badly injured: a large section of its gut hung out through the shot wound, and it had lost an eye. In these mountains, even tigers yielded to it, yet here it was, suffering such a defeat. It tried to catch Lizi Huang, but the dog was faster. It wanted to attack the three humans, but they had all climbed into the trees. It circled beneath them a few times, filled with savage fury but temporarily stumped about what to do next. It stomped about furiously and roared toward the sky, its sound echoing through the valley.

From my perch on the large tree, I watched the raging renxiong below spinning in circles. Forgetting my own perilous situation, I found it amusing and shouted to Fatty in the tree next to mine, "Little Fatty, why hasn't your Uncle Two left yet? What's he wandering around down there for? Tell him not to get worked up."

Fatty wasn't afraid of the renxiong so much as he was afraid of heights—he probably had some acrophobia by modern standards. He was trembling as he clung to the tree fork, but hearing my taunt, he refused to be slighted and started cursing back at me: "Hu Bayi, you son of a bitch, you’re completely heartless! That down there isn't your Uncle Two! Look clearly before you speak! Isn't that your wife?"

I burst out laughing and pointed at the renxiong below, saying, "Oh, I mistook her. So that’s your Auntie. I’m certainly not going to be your Uncle-in-law."

Furious, Fatty tried to throw pinecones at me, but both hands were gripping the fork tightly, afraid to loosen their hold and fall. He couldn't make any major movements and could only glare at me.

Seeing Fatty's predicament made me laugh harder, but my smile immediately froze. The renxiong below was climbing the very tree I was in, completely disregarding its condition.

Although clumsy, its strength was immense, and the severe injuries had driven it completely mad. In its eyes, there were only the three of us and the dog. With one blood-red eye glaring, the fleshy pads on its massive paws gripped the trunk securely. Its huge body scaled up more than a meter with every lunge. I cursed inwardly: Who the hell told me bears couldn't climb trees? This is trying to set me up!

There’s an old saying among mountain hunters when warning the young: "Better to fight a fierce tiger than a mad bear." A renxiong driven completely insane by injury possesses astonishing destructive power and explosive force. I turned pale, losing all desire to joke with Fatty, my mind frantically calculating an escape route.

Just then, Swallow reminded me sharply: "Quick... quick, load the buckshot! Shoot its other eye!"

I remembered the rifle strapped to my back and cursed myself for my uselessness. I climbed further up the tree, untied the webbing I used to cinch my trousers, and secured the webbing to a branch sturdy enough to bear my weight. I used one hand to steady the rifle and maintain my center of gravity, freeing the other hand to load the weapon. I poured nearly all the remaining powder from my horn into the barrel of the muzzle-loader.

The renxiong climbed swiftly, getting closer and closer to me. Swallow and Fatty both held their breath for me. I tried to focus solely on the task of loading the rifle, refusing to think about the renxiong crawling up beneath me.

After loading the powder came tamping the buckshot down tight with the ramrod. Sweat poured down my temples and sides. These hunting rifles are a nightmare; this broken gun was going to cost me my life. How many hunters in the vast Northeast forests have lost their precious lives because they didn't have a fast-firing weapon? If I had a Type 56 semi-automatic rifle right now, I wouldn't care if two or three more renxiong showed up. Under these circumstances, even having a handgun would have been better than nothing.

The moment I finished loading the buckshot and replacing the tinder and flint, the renxiong's claws reached my foot. I quickly retracted my foot and, leaning into the movement, turned the muzzle downward, aiming directly at the renxiong's head and firing. This shot, due to the excessive powder, produced a massive cloud of smoke and fire that blackened my face.

The gun relied on the force of the powder spray to propel the buckshot, but the low angle caused the shot inside the barrel to become loose, failing to deliver its full power. Moreover, because I was firing one-handed at point-blank range with no support behind me, I still shot wide, missing its head. It only managed to tear the renxiong's shoulder into a bloody mess. The beast fell from the fifteen-meter height of the tree, landing heavily on the ground covered in deep layers of dead leaves and debris. Given its thick hide, the fall didn't cause it significant lasting damage.

The renxiong got back up. This time, it stopped climbing. It charged the tree like a heavy tank, howling wildly and slamming its massive body against the trunk, shaking down leaves and pinecones like rain.

Fortunately, I had hooked my arm through the webbing, preventing me from being shaken off. I worried that this tree wasn't strong enough and might snap if the renxiong rammed it a few more times. I thought I was fated to die here in the deep mountains, but if I was going to die, I couldn't lose face. I needed to muster the righteous, heroic spirit of a revolutionary to show Fatty and Swallow that I, Old Hu, was no coward. I yelled to Swallow and Fatty in the other tree, "Looks like I’m going to meet Marx. Sorry, comrades, I'll head on ahead and save you a seat over there. Do either of you have any last words for the revolutionary? I’ll be sure to relay them for you."

Fatty shouted back from his tree several meters away: "Comrade Old Hu, go in peace! The revolutionary cause doesn't need you much, but it won't collapse without you. Go study revolutionary theory well with Old Ma! I hear they always eat beef stewed with potatoes over there. Will you be used to it?"

I replied, "Have we revolutionaries ever been picky eaters? Comrade Little Fatty, keep pushing the little revolutionary cart forward! Red flags roll over the serfs' scythes, the black hand hangs high the master's whip! The remaining two-thirds of the suffering masses in the world must rely on you to liberate them! I’ll go eat potato and beef stew every day."

Swallow burst into tears: "This is what time it is, and you two still have the leisure to spout nonsense? Think of a solution, quickly!"

Just as we were out of ideas, the renxiong stopped ramming the tree. It sat on the ground, panting heavily. It had bled a lot and exerted itself continuously. Although its brute strength was astonishing, even it had limits. Now, recovering from its rampage, it had learned a lesson: conserve energy. It sat under the tree, waiting us out.

Lizi Huang had also witnessed the renxiong's power and dared not approach to bite or harass it, crouching far off to the side. It was also hungry, but out of loyalty to its master, it refused to hunt for food by itself. Swallow felt sorry for her dog and whistled, telling Lizi Huang to go find something to eat. Only then did Lizi Huang leave.

The three of us huddled in the trees, discussing strategy, but after deep consideration, there seemed to be no viable plan. Climbing down to fight head-on with our old firearms would be suicide. Most villagers were away, so we couldn't hope for rescue. To avoid falling, we each used our belts to tie ourselves firmly to the trunks, waiting to see who would give up first.

This created a stalemate, a situation most disadvantageous to the three of us in the trees. The harrowing battle with the renxiong had exhausted most of our strength. It was nearly night, and we hadn't slept for two days and one night. We had only eaten a few cornmeal cakes during the day. Hungry and drowsy, we likely wouldn't last until morning before fainting and falling from the trees.

This scene reminded me of a line from Chairman Mao's poem: The enemy encircles us with ten thousand layers of troops, yet I remain unmoved. However, there were no banners in sight below the mountain—only a waiting renxiong.

Lost in these thoughts, I drifted off to sleep, leaning against the tree trunk. I don't know how long passed before I woke up, my stomach aching with agonizing hunger. The sky was filled with countless stars, and the crescent moon hung like a hook—it was deep into the night. The entire forest was silent. Using the moonlight, I checked below: the renxiong was gone. I didn't know when it had left. The branches were dense, and I couldn't tell if Swallow and Fatty were still in their trees. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, "Swallow! Little Fatty! Are you still up there?"

I called out several times, my voice echoing through the midnight valley, but there was no response from the other two. Though brave, the thought of being utterly alone in the primeval forest sent a chill down my spine. I thought those two were too unfair; how could they forget me and leave without waking me?

I called out twice more with no reaction. Anxiety rising, I scanned the surroundings and spotted a flickering light not far ahead. Unexpectedly, there was human habitation in this place? Perhaps they had also seen the light and gone there to find people?

In the dark, I couldn't distinguish directions, only hearing the roaring of the water. I looked up to fix the position of the North Star, concluding that the light must be coming from the direction of Niuxin Mountain. I slid down from the tree and began walking toward the light, stumbling heavily with each step.

I began to imagine the owners of the light as old mountain hunters with long white beards—kind, warm, and hospitable. They would surely treat a lost educated youth like me with enthusiasm, first making me a cup of hot tea, then roasting a deer leg for me to eat... The more I thought about food, the hungrier I got, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve.

Thinking of food, I walked on quickly until I reached the front of a massive cave. The depths of the cave glowed brightly—strange. The light had seemed close just moments ago, but now it appeared deep inside the cavern. Perhaps my hunger was making me see things.

Driven by the intense fantasy of roasted venison, I walked into the cave. Taking two steps for every one, I reached the end of the long, dark passage and found the space within the mountain vast, opening up before me suddenly. Across the expanse, I saw five or six young women walking side-by-side, chatting and laughing. Although it was clearly summer, they were dressed in luxurious furs, the styles archaic, not seeming to be contemporary clothing. Only one of them wore a blue khaki outfit appropriate for the season; she had two long braids and a dark green canvas shoulder bag stamped with the words "Serve the People." Ah, wasn't that Tian Xiaomeng?

Yes, it was definitely Tian Xiaomeng. She was an educated youth from Suzhou; Fatty and I were from Fujian. Even though we were all southerners, we weren't very close. Mainly, Fatty and I were too mischievous and always caused trouble, so the generally honest and quiet girls dared not associate with us.

However, seeing a familiar face in this strange cave offered some degree of comfort. I quickened my pace and called out to her, "Little Tian, what are you doing here? Do you have anything to eat?"

Tian Xiaomeng turned when she heard my voice, waved at me, and signaled me to come closer. I walked over and said, "You seem to be having a good time. We nearly got eaten by a renxiong trying to find you. What is this place? Do you have any food? I'm so hungry my front and back are sticking together."

Tian Xiaomeng replied, "I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I got lost while foraging for herbs in Lama Gully and was rescued by these kind sisters. They are about to perform a shadow play, and you’ve arrived just in time. Let’s watch it together before we go back." She then introduced me to the young women beside her. They spoke with local accents and were very polite. They gave me some dried venison to eat and invited me to watch the performance with them.

I followed them deeper inside. In the center of the vast cave stood a magnificent city, with splendid pavilions illuminated by bright lights. Piled high around it were various antiques and jade artifacts.

In front of the city gate, lanterns made of paper and white cloth had been set up. Behind them sat more than a dozen musicians playing gongs, drums, and suona. In front was a long, antique table laden with exquisite teaware and cups. Furthermore, a large red agate tray was overflowing with fruits and pastries.

Three chairs were set before the table. The young women dressed in fur coats invited Tian Xiaomeng and me to sit in the chairs on either side. The central chair was left intentionally empty, as if awaiting an important person.

Seeing only three seats and everyone else standing behind, Tian Xiaomeng felt awkward and wanted to decline. I was exhausted and starving, so I didn't bother with formalities. Since the country belonged to the people, whoever sat in the seat was fine. I sat down casually and grabbed the food in front of me to eat.

Perhaps because I was so hungry, the food, despite its exquisite appearance, had no flavor; it was like chewing wax. After a few bites, I began to feel that something was very strange.

Just then, two young girls helped an exquisitely dressed, white-haired old woman emerge from the main door and sit in the central seat.

Tian Xiaomeng and I stood up to greet the host. Seeing the old woman's appearance, I felt even more bizarre. What era was this? How could there still be landladies?

The old woman nodded to us both and sat down in the middle, silently waiting for the show to begin.

The young women serving behind her clapped their hands. The musicians and puppeteers of the troupe immediately began their performance upon receiving the signal. Shadow puppetry, originating in the Han and Tang dynasties, also known as "lantern shadow play," was a very popular folk art. Figures and animals were intricately carved from donkey hide, manipulated by the artist behind a white curtain to the rhythm of gongs, drums, and vocalizations. By now, there were hundreds of complete plays in their repertoire.

However, this art form was naturally affected during the [Cultural Revolution], criticized as a poisonous weed propagating tales of talented scholars, beautiful ladies, emperors, and generals. No one dared perform it anymore. I never expected to see it performed here today. In an era where cultural life was practically nonexistent, this performance was incredibly captivating. I was so engrossed in watching that I forgot everything else.

The shadow puppet show featured several magnificent segments. First, they performed Emperor Taizong's Dream Visit to the Moon Palace, and then they began Di Qing’s Night Capture of Kunlun Pass.

The stage was filled with flashing swords and clashing armies, a stunning display. Coupled with the driving drum music, the audience couldn't help but cheer. My spirit soared, and my throat felt dry. I reached for the teacup on the table to take a drink. Accidentally, I glanced at the old woman beside me. She was watching with a pleased expression, nibbling on the preserved fruits and pastries from the table. Her chewing motion was very peculiar; her cheeks puffed out like an old ape’s as she made little sucking sounds.

My grandmother, even after losing her teeth in old age, never ate anything like that. Was this old woman human or monkey? My heart lurched, and the teacup in my hand slipped, shattering on the floor. It didn't matter that the cup broke; the old woman’s head also fell to the ground. Her head continued to watch the shadow play, her mouth still chewing incessantly.

The maids attending the old woman rushed forward, respectfully picking up her head and gently placing it back onto her body.

I knew instantly that we had encountered a ghost. I grabbed Tian Xiaomeng and bolted toward the cave entrance. In the pitch black, we stumbled out of the cavern. Behind us, we heard a tremendous rumbling sound, and the earth vibrated continuously. The mountain cave sealed itself into a single massive stone wall. If we had been half a minute slower, we would have been crushed to death between the closing walls.

The sky outside was already bright as I pulled Tian Xiaomeng towards the stream at the foot of the mountain. Suddenly, an excruciating pain seized my stomach, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I doubled over, realizing the food they gave me must have been tainted. I recalled my grandfather’s tales of ghosts offering meals—how specters transform stones, frogs, or maggots into delicacies to trick people into eating. I couldn't imagine what kind of ghastly fowl I had consumed; the thought made me retch violently.

Through the haze of pain, I dimly saw two figures approaching ahead. The young woman in front looked familiar—it was Yanzi. Seeing her brought a wave of relief, and then my vision tunneled to black as I collapsed.

When I awoke, three days had passed. Yanzi and Fatty had stayed perched in the tree until dawn. The renxiong—the man-bear—down below had bled out and died. Yet, nobody could find any trace of me. Finally, they discovered Tian Xiaomeng and me unconscious near the riverbank.

I had been in a coma for those three days, burning with a fever over 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Fatty had run nearly a hundred li over the mountain trails to fetch a doctor from the county seat. Thanks to my strong constitution, I eventually woke up. Tian Xiaomeng, however, never regained consciousness, so her relatives were notified to take her home for treatment. What happened to her afterward, none of us truly knew.

I recounted my experience to Yanzi’s father. He suggested I might have encountered a "Ghost Market," also known as "Ghost Play." There was a local legend that when the Empress Dowager died, she had many folk entertainers—acrobats and variety performers—buried alive with her as attendants. In the past, others claimed to have witnessed events identical to mine on Niu Xin Mountain.

However, these memories are vague in my mind; at times, I question whether they truly happened at all.

My life as an educated youth lasted just over half a year—not a long time—but the memories forged there will never fade. In the spring of ’69, when it was my turn to return home for a visit, my destiny took another dramatic turn.