Chapter 1: Reminiscing the Early Days in the Year of Seventy

Today, these beasts are acting strangely. What if you drive them into the yard and they run into the house and hurt your wife? Your wife is still giving birth! First, let's take a look with the gun; if that doesn't work, I will risk my own life. I will not allow them to harm my unborn grandson in the slightest!

Many ancient sages and capable individuals devoted their lives to devising ways to combat these transformed demons and evildoers, thus founding the Daoist lineage and leaving behind countless Daoist scriptures. Qin Shi Huang divided the territory into thirty-six commanderies, and what is now Miyun was originally part of Yuyang Commandery. I practice the local sect of Miyun, known as Yuyang Dao, and I am the ninety-seventh generation descendant. Allow me to share with you the experiences I have had over the past sixty years guarding the mountains of Miyun.

Suddenly, a gust of flying sand swept in, blinding everyone’s eyes. Inside the room, I was born; the newborn me had wrinkled skin and was exceedingly small. Grandma Li, the midwife, cut the umbilical cord, yet I did not cry. A newborn must cry out loud to announce the arrival of life to the world and to prevent evil spirits from taking notice. Grandma Li, being an experienced midwife, promptly pinched my bottom, and I let out a small "wah"; however, my voice was not loud. A newborn must cry out loud to announce the arrival of life to the world and to prevent evil spirits from taking notice. Grandma Li, being an experienced midwife, promptly pinched my bottom, and I let out a small "wah"; however, my voice was not loud.

On a day in the thirteenth month, my mother suddenly experienced severe abdominal pain, a clear sign that she was about to give birth. My grandfather promptly sent someone to find Grandma Li, who lived in the east of the village. She had served as a midwife in her youth, and most of the children in the village had been delivered by her. The courtyard became bustling with activity, with people boiling water, pacing back and forth, and others lighting incense and praying in a flurry.

When my father was twenty-eight years old, he went hunting in the mountains and did not return for several nights. My grandfather was extremely anxious, and half the villagers searched the mountains for two days without finding him. The deep mountains were home to many tigers, leopards, jackals, and wolves, and my grandfather's hair turned completely white overnight, fearing that he had met with misfortune. After seven days had passed, just as the villagers were planning to give up the search.

Since becoming pregnant, Mother has been treated like a goddess at home, with all household chores taken care of by Father. Grandfather often goes out to hunt for game to nourish her, insisting that the more wild game she eats, the stronger and more robust the grandson will be when he is born, just like Da Chun (Father's name). Days passed one by one, and before long, it had been ten months since Mother became pregnant, yet she showed no signs of pregnancy and there were no indications of impending labor. The family gradually grew anxious and called for a doctor, but there were no issues found; however, the child simply would not be born. Days passed one by one, and before long, it had been ten months since Mother became pregnant, yet she showed no signs of pregnancy and there were no indications of impending labor. The family gradually grew anxious and called for a doctor, but there were no issues found; however, the child simply would not be born.

On weekdays, upon seeing a shadow, it would run away, but the elusive fox, seemingly oblivious to the sound of gunfire, continued to howl outside the yard. My father raised his gun, intending to shoot at the fox, but was firmly grasped by my grandfather.

That day, my father carried the unconscious woman directly home. When my grandfather saw my father return, although he still wore a stern expression, he quietly let out a sigh of relief. Days passed by like this, and after the woman in white regained consciousness, she settled in my grandfather's house, where my father took care of her with great attention every day. My grandfather asked her several times where she lived, but she said that after waking from her coma, she had lost her memory, and now she was alone and had nowhere to go, so my grandfather allowed her to stay.

The father obediently held the gun in a standoff.

Two months later, one day her father suddenly proposed to marry her. Although her grandfather was displeased due to her unclear background, her father, who was already thirty years old and had never been willing to marry, had finally found someone willing to marry him. Fearing that if he did not agree, his son would remain unmarried for life, the grandfather reluctantly acquiesced to their union.

After their marriage, my parents have always shown filial piety towards my grandfather, treating each other with great respect. The neighbors in the village praise Old Zhang for marrying a good daughter-in-law, who is not only beautiful but also skilled in managing the household. Hearing this, my grandfather smiles every day, shaking off years of depression. Two months later, my mother began to feel unwell, often experiencing nausea. After inviting a doctor from the mountains to take a look, it turned out she was pregnant. This news delighted my grandfather even more, and he gradually forgot about my mother's mysterious origins.

A boy was born, a big chubby one! The midwife held me, and my little feet stepped out like a gust of wind.

I was born in the year 1940, during a time of relentless warfare. My home is in a small county located in the northeastern part of the capital, known as Miyun. It is said that in the southeastern direction of the original county site, there is a high mountain that is shrouded in mist year-round, hence the name Miyun. People only know of the mountain's towering and perilous heights, and the deep, swirling mists, but they are unaware that among the strange and majestic peaks, there must be spirits and demons lurking. In the deep mountains and old forests, countless birds and beasts thrive in seclusion, absorbing the essence of the sun and moon, and the quintessence of heaven and earth, gradually acquiring wisdom akin to that of humans. Moreover, due to their cold-blooded nature, even when they gain intelligence, they often become exceedingly cunning and can be quite harmful.

However, no one had the intention of killing the foxes to skin them for silver dollars, creating an extremely bizarre scene. Inside the house, the pregnant woman had not yet given birth, while outside in the yard, a circle of foxes was howling. My grandfather was extremely anxious, fearing that these foxes would affect my birth. He got up and went to the main room to retrieve two hunting rifles. He handed one to my father, indicating that he should shoot to scare away the foxes. My father fired two shots into the air, the sound of the gunfire crisp like firecrackers, and the smell of gunpowder lingered in the yard.

On the day of my father's wedding, the entire village was adorned with red characters and red paper, creating a festive atmosphere. This joy diluted the oppressive air brought about by the invasion of the Japanese. That night, my father drank three jars of homemade liquor and was carried into the bridal chamber. My grandfather also drank quite a bit, continuously stroking his beard and laughing.

After about ten minutes, I still had not been born. My mother's cries of pain inside the house had transformed from piercing the heavens to gradually becoming weaker. The situation was critical; not only my father but also my grandfather began to pace anxiously in the yard. The atmosphere was tense to the utmost degree.

However, she never told me in the end how she met her father and how he saved her. The story of those seven days between them became a mystery in the village, a mystery that no one knew.

Suddenly, a strange sound echoed, resembling that of a puppy but much crisper. Everyone turned their eyes towards the source, where a circle of white-haired foxes had gathered outside the courtyard, varying in size. It is rare to see even a single white-haired fox; its fur could fetch three to four silver dollars at the market, equivalent to a year's worth of food and clothing for a family. Yet, outside the courtyard, there appeared to be no fewer than thirty of them, practically beckoning to people like a pile of gleaming silver dollars.

My grandfather served in the military when he was young and gained considerable respect in the village for resisting foreign invaders with blue eyes and yellow hair. The family owned two old-fashioned hunting rifles, and with my grandfather's robust physique and military training, he often hunted a great deal of game, allowing the family to live quite comfortably. My father was born in the first year of the Republic of China and possessed great strength, having learned many skills from my grandfather. In his youth, he was intelligent and hardworking, and many young girls in the village hoped to marry him. However, he never pursued a romantic relationship or marriage, gradually extinguishing the hopes of those young girls. Eventually, no one came to our home to propose marriage. By the time those young girls had become mothers, he remained single. Naturally, without a wife, there were no children, and the elders often spoke of the three great unfilial acts, with having no descendants being the most serious. This infuriated my grandfather to the point where he nearly expelled this unfilial son from the family.

A year has passed in the blink of an eye, yet the child has not been born. The family has transitioned from anxiety and fear to numbness. The villagers are constantly murmuring that the Zhang family has married a strange daughter-in-law, as a woman should carry a child for ten months, yet it has now been twelve months without a birth. Rumors and gossip have pierced the ears of the grandfather and father like arrows, and during that time, both of them went out with grim faces, making it so that no one dared to engage with them.

He returned to the village carrying a fainted girl in white from the mountains, his clothes tattered and torn, resembling a beggar. The crowd gathered around him, asking what had happened, but he remained silent, focused solely on getting home. Gradually, a circle of people formed behind him, trailing along. Many young men, while continuously questioning their father, couldn't help but steal glances at the girl in his arms. The village elder recalled that the girl was exceptionally beautiful, with skin as tender as the white lotus sold at the market, and her appearance was like a precious picture hidden away by Liu Gouzi from the west end of the village. This woman later became my mother. In my memory, she always appeared gentle and delicate, speaking in a soft voice. No woman in the village could match even a fraction of her beauty. She loved me dearly; by the time I was seven, I would sleep in her embrace during the summer, which led to me being teased and bullied by the village children.

The year of my birth coincided with the invasion of the Japanese army into China, and the people were living in dire straits. Reports frequently emerged of young girls from the eastern village being violated by the Japanese, of grain being seized from the western township, and of young men being taken away as laborers, never to return, creating an atmosphere of fear and anxiety. Fortunately, my village is located at the foot of the mountain, and the access roads are difficult, so the Japanese rarely conducted raids here; perhaps they also looked down upon the village's poverty and backwardness. The village is not large, with just over a hundred households. As the saying goes, one lives off the mountains when near them and off the water when close to it. Few villagers farm the land for grain; most rely on hunting for their livelihood, and after catching game, they must travel over thirty miles of mountain roads to the market outside the mountains to exchange it for rice, flour, and money.

By chance, I stepped into that long-forgotten attic, opened the photo album, and gently traced my fingers over those old photographs, most of the people in them are no longer with us. Looking at those comrades who once fought side by side, their voices and smiles occasionally flash through my mind. It is said that living to seventy is rare, and at this age, there is nothing that one cannot come to terms with. Reflecting on my life, I have certainly experienced many hardships and numerous perilous trials. As one grows old, words can no longer be contained; I wish to share my thoughts with the younger generation today. Allow me to recount the more than sixty years since I became a Taoist priest and share some of the extraordinary experiences of my life.

"Father, did you hear the sound of a baby crying?" The father turned to ask the grandfather. The grandfather listened for a moment and replied, "Yes, there is indeed the sound of a baby crying. Could it be that someone has given birth?" People in the courtyard also chimed in, saying they heard the sound of a baby crying. The father rushed towards the door, but no one expected that outside the courtyard, many foxes were howling. How could the cry of a newborn baby possibly be heard over the sound of the foxes?

Father was pacing back and forth in the yard, unsure of where to place his hands. The endless circling was truly distressing. "Dachun! Why are you so anxious about a woman giving birth? Stand still and stop pacing around!" Grandfather shouted loudly. However, his hands, covered in old calluses and trembling from time to time, revealed that his inner feelings were not as calm as his words suggested. After all, our family has had only one son for three generations; a child is the lifeblood of the family.