Changbai Mountain in the Mist

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Early winter, 1916, the sixth year of the Republic, northern slope of Changbai Mountain, Baishan Village.

Let us introduce the protagonist. Zhou Yi, twenty-two years old, stands at one meter seventy-eight. He wears a sheepskin coat, a dog-fur hat on his head, and a pair of riding boots on his feet. His ears are large and slightly plump, his brows thick, his lips full, and his chin clean-shaven.

His eyes are slender, with very little white showing; what would otherwise be a handsome face takes on a hint of the sinister because of those narrow eyes.

As dusk fell behind the western mountains, Zhou Yi carried a roe deer on his shoulders, following the markers he had set on his way up the mountain. When climbing, Zhou Yi would always prepare some hemp rope, tying it to branches along the path for the sake of retracing his steps. This precaution was necessary; village elders often spoke of people getting lost in the woods, of fox spirits luring men to sleep, so every hunter venturing alone into the mountains would mark their route with rope.

At this season, the roe deer are fat and tender, their meat at its most delicious. The one slung over Zhou Yi’s shoulder weighed more than a hundred jin; once deep winter set in, catching such a plump deer would be nearly impossible. In the past, Zhou Yi usually hunted pheasants or rabbits, but this one deer would be enough meat to last his family half the winter. By now, Zhou Yi was out of breath, his exhaled vapors freezing into white ice crystals on his hat.

The sky darkened, the north win