chapter 5

The creature leaped onto me, caught my clothes, and raced from my leg toward my back.

The sudden weight on my thigh made my stomach drop.

I opened my mouth to call for Grandpa Eighteen, but no sound came out no matter how hard I tried.

“Grandpa Eighteen!”

At last, I found my voice.

It was the loudest shout I had ever made in my life.

Even so, I knew there was little chance he could hear. His house was still some distance away, and the wind hissed loudly through the leaves. At his age, poor hearing would swallow whatever sound remained.

The weasel had reached my neck.

I knew it would bite my throat next. I reached behind me, trying to tear it off.

A sharp pain ripped through my forearm, as fierce as the time a dog had bitten me when I was a child.

I pulled my arm back through the pain and saw the animal’s teeth buried in my flesh.

I shook my arm violently, but that only made the wound hurt worse.

Then I spotted its furry tail.

I seized it like a lifeline, crushed it in my fist, and drove my fingernails deep into the flesh.

The creature squealed, released my arm, and dropped to the ground. Its eyes burned with hatred.

It probably had not imagined that any human would dare hurt it.

It glared at me. I dared not move. For a moment, we remained locked in place.

A foul stench flooded my nose. My stomach heaved, and I nearly vomited up my lunch.

Everyone knew weasel musk stank, but I could not believe it had released that odor now.

Was it trying to stink me to death?

As that absurd thought crossed my mind, I suddenly felt countless eyes watching from both sides of the woods.

I kept my gaze on the weasel before me and searched the trees with my peripheral vision.

One glance almost made me faint.

Dozens of black shapes had appeared among the trunks, green eyes blazing as they crept closer.

There were scores of weasels.

A chill climbed from the base of my spine to the crown of my head. I swallowed helplessly.

So this was how my brother had died. It seemed I would share his fate tonight.

I had mocked the saying that science ends where theology begins. In that moment, I believed it completely.

Within seconds, the pack had surrounded me.

The newcomers were all smaller than the creature at my feet.

Its foul spray had clearly been a signal to summon them.

The larger weasel possessed a measure of intelligence. Once its kin had encircled me, it gave a soft squeak.

The crouching weasels rose onto their hind legs and advanced one step at a time.

This was truly the end. Only one thought remained in my mind: good advice cannot save a man determined to die.

Grandpa Eighteen, I should have listened.

If I died, my parents would have no children left. Who would care for them? Who would help them through their grief?

I had not even had the chance to repay society for my education. How could my life end here?

Worse, these animals would eat my organs and leave my body incomplete.

I would die in agony.

I wondered whether I would meet my brother in the underworld, or whether he had already drunk Meng Po’s soup of forgetfulness and gone on to his next life.

My thoughts tumbled wildly as I waited for death.