During the Qingming season, rain fell incessantly, and pedestrians hurried along the roads.
Buzz buzz!
Mist lay low on the ground, slowly undulating. The earth was slippery, and a figure in red with a hat, resembling a scarecrow, stood alone by the field. Its hands were tied to a frame, stiffly splayed out, unmoving with its back facing the road.
Suddenly, someone called out to the scarecrow, "Excuse me, sir, where can I find an inn?"
A figure emerged from the mist.
It was a fifteen-year-old, slender Daoist in gray attire. His complexion was pale as paper, his features picturesque, and his appearance handsome.
However, he was riding a donkey, swaying weakly, looking frail and feeble, exuding an air of vulnerability.
Nevertheless, the Daoist's spirits were high. Upon spotting the scarecrow by the roadside, he waved and called out.
Upon hearing the words, the scarecrow trembled slightly. It extended a finger and pointed westward.
The Daoist's face lit up with joy. He bowed towards the scarecrow and said, "Thank you, I am in a hurry to continue my journey."
With that, he kicked the paper donkey he was sitting on and swiftly headed in the direction indicated by the scarecrow.
As he left, a gust of wind swept through!
Unable to withstand the force, the scarecrow creaked and turned half a circle, revealing a bloody and fleshly figure.
It turned out that the scarecrow was not made of straw but a living person, skinned, gutted, tongue pulled out, and nailed to a wooden frame.
On the dirt road, the donkey the Daoist rode was not a real one but a paper donkey. Its body was painted black, soaked all over, with a crimson sand drawing of a smiling yet eerie face. It walked on the road, swaying back and forth.
Guided by someone, the Daoist no longer meandered along the dirt road. He rode the donkey, suppressed his voice, and leaped directly from the field, leaving only the rustling sound behind.
The sky darkened quickly.
Not long after the Daoist departed, darkness enveloped the surroundings, making it feel even colder. However, as he turned a mountain pass, his eyes suddenly brightened, and he saw lights ahead.
The firelight was dazzling, torches planted on the hill, shining brightly like a fiery red dragon breathing, scales flickering.
The Daoist did not follow the road but patted the paper donkey, climbing up the slope.
Upon reaching the mountaintop, murmurs and noises filled the Daoist's ears.
The clinking of pots and pans, the shuffling of tables and chairs, people calling out and toasting.
The scents of alcohol, charcoal, and food wafted through the Daoist's nostrils, making him feel warm even before entering.
The Daoist's spirits lifted, and he leaped onto the mountaintop, immediately seeing figures in straw hats and bamboo hats bustling on the hilltop, with children running around, playing and chasing each other.
A black-clad child stood at the intersection, guarding a bronze gong.
The Daoist greeted the black-clad child, "Young man, why aren't you joining the feast?"
Startled by the sudden voice, the black-clad child did not look at the Daoist but immediately struck the gong and called out shrilly, "The feast is ready, the feast is ready!"
Seeing no one acknowledging him, the Daoist laughed, dismounted the donkey, and strode forward.
A simple podium appeared before him, with a large bonfire in the center. Although the surroundings were dark, the area near the bonfire was brightly lit, filled with warmth and joy.
Cushions were placed on the podium, and an elderly man in formal attire sat there, chewing on food with his head lowered.
Behind the podium, several people stood holding trays, filled with fruits and dishes, chatting and laughing, their figures trembling with excitement, perhaps from the lively atmosphere.
Seeing this scene, the Daoist felt as if he had stepped into a shadow play from a past life. Since no one came to greet him, he continued to push forward.
Entering the crowd, the smell of sweat was overpowering.
Fortunately, the Daoist found an empty seat and sat down. The two people at the table turned to look at him. One was an old man with a goatee, chewing on vegetables, while the other had a pale face, happily drinking wine.
The old man spoke while chewing, "The Mountain Lord's feast is almost over. Why did the guest arrive so late?"
The pale-faced person warmly welcomed the Daoist, "A new guest has arrived, serve the dishes, serve the dishes!"
"It was foggy, couldn't find the way," the Daoist apologized, "I arrived late."
"Not late at all, there's always tomorrow. But for now, there are only some fruits left," the old man replied.
As he spoke, someone approached from behind the podium, carrying a tray and placing it in front of the Daoist.
Trembling, the person holding the tray said, "Daoist, please wait..."
The tray was painted red and festive. The food on it exuded a fragrant aroma, instantly overpowering the smell of sweat.
The Daoist lowered his head and saw a variety of colorful fruits and dishes on the tray, pleasing to the eye. He gratefully said, "Thank you."
The three at the table began to toast and converse. The Daoist drank a few cups of wine, his face becoming rosier with each sip. However, it wasn't long before, as the old man with the goatee had mentioned, the feast was coming to an end.
The bonfire in front of the podium was not replenished, and its flames dimmed.
The elderly man on the podium stopped chewing and began to clean his teeth slowly.
The two at the table nudged the Daoist and whispered, "Look, the Mountain Lord is watching you. Did you bring a gift with you to the feast?"
The Daoist looked up and saw the elderly man in formal attire gazing at him. The man adjusted his robe, shook his head, and said in a hoarse voice, "A guest from afar brings joy to us!"
The Daoist paused, thinking that whether in this life or the previous one, it was customary to bring a gift to a feast. Since he had come unprepared today, it would be better to offer a gift now.
Seeing the host inviting him, the Daoist nodded and said, "Indeed! Since it is the Mountain Lord's banquet, I shall present a gift."
With that, the Daoist stood up. His face was as pale as paper, resembling a paper figure, immediately attracting the attention of many.
In the crowd, eyes of all sizes were fixed on the Daoist.
Ignoring the stares, the Daoist spoke loudly, "As the sky darkens, how can we enjoy the feast without the moon? It would lack flavor."
He took out a piece of paper from his sleeve, folded it into a half-circle skillfully, and tossed it into the air.
Thud!
The paper floated in mid-air, turning into a large paper plate, shining brightly and casting a silver light.
Bathed in moonlight, the Daoist truly resembled a paper figure, with his features painted in red and black, standing tall and elegant. He bowed to the elderly man on the podium, saying, "Please let the moonlight adorn the Mountain Lord's presence as a gift."
The elderly man on the podium stopped, smiled, and as the Daoist's words fell, the sound of dishes clattering and bowls falling filled the air, creating a chaotic scene.
The atmosphere at the feast became eerie.
Baa!
A sheep's cry sounded near the Daoist. He turned to see that the figures at the table were no longer human.
An old sheep had its hooves on the table, blood dripping from its beard, chewing on a large piece of meat, its square pupils meeting the Daoist's gaze.
On the other side, a yellow wolf stood on the table. As soon as the Daoist glanced at it, the wolf leaped off the table and disappeared.
The scene before the Daoist's eyes changed completely.
Although the table was adorned with colorful fruits, there were no melons. Instead, there were kidney-like fruits, gallbladders the color of mulberries, hearts the size of peaches... every organ was present.
The Daoist's nostrils were no longer filled with the smell of sweat and food but with a pungent and fishy odor.
The ground was empty of people, replaced by chickens, ducks, cats, dogs jumping around, foxes, cows, and horses calling out, children with rabbit heads and mouse faces rolling on the ground, chasing after red crystal eyeballs.
The sounds of sheep bleating, cows mooing, and mice squeaking filled the Daoist's ears.
Finally, he looked back at the podium.
A child's body, completely devoured, lay in front of the elderly man in formal attire, its bones clean and devoid of flesh, appearing delicate and clean under the moonlight.
The elderly man was now covered in black fur, towering like a giant wolf, casting a shadow that covered the entire podium.
"Wonderful!" exclaimed the elderly man in wolf form, seemingly oblivious to the changes around him. He clapped his hands and howled, his voice hoarse, "Why haven't you started eating, guest? Do you find the Mountain Lord's food unsatisfactory?"
It turned out that the Daoist had only conversed with the old sheep and yellow wolf earlier, taking only a few sips of wine and not touching the food on the table.
The Daoist looked at the wolf, remaining composed. He tapped the plate in front of him and said helplessly, "I also wish to feast heartily, but as a human, how can I stomach human organs?"
As his words fell, the chirping and growling of the animals on the ground ceased, and silence filled the eerie scene.
The wolf on the stone platform nodded in agreement.
Then, it spoke decisively, "Guests are welcome, but our feast only has meat, no vegetarian options. Choose a guest from the crowd and enjoy a hearty meal."
The Daoist, relieved, said, "I also cannot eat vegetarian dishes, only meat."
The animals on the ground remained silent, unmoving.
"However..." The Daoist glanced at the animals and fixed his gaze on the wolf on the platform.
He smiled,
His lips red and teeth white:
"Ordinary animals and beasts lack flavor, only the Mountain Lord's heart is worthy of a taste!"