Nine Nights Owl Song

In the fourth year of Yong'an, in autumn.

The abandoned residential area in the east of Luojing City is a stretch of hundreds of acres of broken walls and ruins.

The fire three years ago burned down the entire Changning Ward, killing more than 300 people. The imperial court investigated for half a year but could not find out the cause, and the matter was eventually dropped.

The abandoned mansion gradually became the domain of stray dogs and beggars. Withered vines climbed the broken walls, weeds grew in the ruins, and a rotten smell perpetually filled the air.

Nobody wants to come near here.

Except for those who have nowhere else to go.

At this moment, the sun was setting in the west, casting long shadows of the ruins.

A thin figure crouched behind a section of collapsed courtyard wall, motionless, like an inconspicuous stone.

It was a little girl, who looked no more than three or four years old. She was thin and small, with dry, tangled hair, her face covered in mud and scars that had been there for who knows how long. Her clothes were so tattered that they could barely cover her body, revealing her two stick-like arms and bony ribs.

Only those eyes were alive.

Those were a pair of extremely dark and bright eyes, like two black pebbles washed clean by water, now fixed intently on a pile of things twenty paces ahead—

Half a roast chicken that had been gnawed by wild dogs.

The roast chicken was unrecognizable; the skin and meat were torn to shreds, and the bones were covered in mud and dog saliva, emitting a nauseating, fishy stench.

But for Ajiu, it was a meal.

It was the only food she had seen since yesterday evening.

At the other end of the ruins, three stray dogs were dozing under a broken beam.

Leading the pack was an old, sturdy, grayish-yellow dog with a missing piece of its left ear, revealing a dark red scar underneath. It lay there, eyes half-closed, tongue lolling out, occasionally twitching, as if savoring its recent meal.

The other two dogs were smaller, one black and one spotted, curled up beside the old dog, occasionally glancing up at the direction of the half roast chicken before shrinking back down.

Ah Jiu is waiting.

Wait until the dogs fall asleep.

She had been squatting there for almost an hour; her legs were numb, and her knees were throbbing with pain. But she didn't move, even deliberately keeping her breathing very soft.

This is the experience she gained through countless times of hunger and being bitten—when competing with dogs for food, you can't be impatient, you can't be afraid, and you can't let the dog feel that you are a threat.

When they are most relaxed, rush over as fast as you can, grab the food, and run.

If you run too slowly, you'll get a beating.

Ah Jiu still had the teeth marks from the black dog's bite on her back from three days ago, covered with a layer of dark red scabs, which hurt when she bent over.

She licked her chapped lips and pressed herself even lower.

The old dog's breathing gradually became even.

The black dog rolled over, belly up, and kicked its four legs wildly in the air.

The spotted dog yawned and buried its head in its tail.

it's time.

Ajiu took a deep breath, her toes touching the ground, and she shot forward like a bowstring stretched to its limit.

Her bare feet pierced the rough stones and rubble, but she couldn't care less. The wind whistled past her ears; her eyes were fixed on the half-eaten roast chicken, drawing ever closer—

Ten steps.

Five steps.

Three steps

Her hand touched the greasy bones of the roast chicken.

Just then, a deep roar exploded behind them.

The old dog woke up.

Ah Jiu didn't look back. He grabbed the roast chicken and ran away.

Behind me came the rapid scratching of dog paws and a chorus of barking.

"Woof woof woof—"

The three dogs chased after her at the same time, much faster than a three-year-old child.

Ah Jiu gritted her teeth and ran like a madman into the depths of the ruins.

She knew there was a low wall ahead with a hole in the top, a hole she could squeeze through, but a dog couldn't.

That was her escape route.

It was the escape route she found after being bitten three days ago, which took her a whole day to discover.

The old dog was the fastest, almost biting her trouser leg. Ah Jiu suddenly dodged to the side, and the old dog's teeth grazed her calf, tearing off a piece of cloth.

She stumbled and almost fell, but managed to brace herself with her hands and continued running forward, tumbling and crawling.

The low wall is right in front of us.

Five steps.

Three steps.

step--

Ah Jiu squeezed sideways and squeezed through the palm-sized hole in the wall, her back burning from the scraping bricks.

She squeezed through the hole in the wall and collapsed into a pile of weeds on the other side, gasping for breath.

The three dogs chased each other to the hole in the wall and squeezed their heads together to try and squeeze in. But the hole was too small, and their heads got stuck as soon as they poked them in, making them whimper in distress.

Ajiu lay in the grass, his chest heaving violently, his face covered in a mixture of sweat and mud.

She looked down at her arms—the roast chicken was still there.

Although it had been crushed beyond recognition by her running, and the bones were covered in mud from her hands and blood from her scrapes, it was indeed food.

Ah Jiu didn't bother wiping away the blood; she stuffed the roast chicken into her mouth and began to devour it.

The bones were too hard for her to bite through since her teeth weren't fully grown in. So she would grind them with her gums, swallowing the bits of meat that came off. Some bones were too thick to gnaw on, so she would break them open and suck out the marrow.

She ate very slowly and carefully, holding even the smallest bone in her mouth for a long time until she was sure it had no taste before spitting it out.

It took her almost half an hour to eat half a roast chicken.

After finishing the meal, she carefully arranged the bones one by one and buried them in the soil at the base of the wall.

This was taught to her by the old drunkard: after eating, you have to bury the bones so that the smell doesn't linger, otherwise it will attract more dogs.

Ah Jiu buried the bones, patted the dirt off her hands, and sat down against the wall.

It was getting dark, and the western sky was a dark red, like a piece of cloth soaked in blood.

In the distance came the sound of evening drums from the streets of Luoyang. The dull drumbeats struck one after another, as if urging those still on the streets to hurry home.

Family.

Ah Jiu doesn't know what home is.

She had grown up in these ruins as far back as she could remember. When she was hungry, she would find food; when she was thirsty, she would drink the rainwater that had accumulated in broken bowls; and when she was sleepy, she would curl up in a corner and sleep.

She didn't know who her father was, who her mother was, where she came from, or what her name was.

The old drunkard called her "Ah Jiu," so she called herself Ah Jiu.

But the old drunkard hasn't shown up for three days.

The last time I saw him was three days ago in the evening. He came back drunk, carrying two hard, rock-hard cornbread buns in his arms. He tossed one to her and ate the other himself.

"Girl, live well." After saying this, the old drunkard leaned against the wall and started snoring.

When Ajiu woke up the next morning, the old drunkard was gone.

She waited for three days, but he didn't come back.

Ah Jiu didn't know where the old drunkard had gone, or if he would ever come back.

All she knew was that when she was hungry, she had to find food herself; when she was cold, she had to find shelter from the wind; and when she was bitten by a dog, she had to find a way to survive.

This is what her life was like at the age of three.

The evening drum stopped, and the sky became completely dark.

Various sounds began to rise from the ruins: crickets chirped in the grass, rats scurried under the rubble, and the distant hooting of an owl sounded as mournful as a baby crying.

Ah Jiu huddled against the wall, hugging her knees and burying her face in her arms.

She dared not close her eyes.

As soon as it gets dark, stray dogs come out in packs to hunt for food. Those dogs look alright during the day, but at night they seem to change completely. Their eyes glow green, their mouths drool, and they eat anything—dead cats, dead mice, and even lone children.

She had seen dogs gnawing on the corpse of a beggar who had been dead for who knows how long; the sound of bones being chewed was crunchy and crunchy, like someone chewing on cartilage.

From then on, she dared not sleep at night.

Ah Jiu stared intently at the pairs of eyes that gleamed with an eerie light in the darkness, remaining motionless.

Those eyes lingered not far away. Sometimes, when they got closer, she would grab a piece of pebbles and pretend to throw them. The dogs tried a few times, but seeing that she was difficult to deal with, they walked away dejectedly.

They remained locked in this standoff for what seemed like an eternity, until Ah Jiu's eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

She pinched her thigh hard, wincing in pain, but drowsiness still washed over her like a tide.

Just when she was about to give up,

A dark shadow appeared at the entrance to the ruins.

Ajiu instantly snapped out of it, gripping the stone tightly in her hand, her whole body taut like a fully drawn bow.

The shadow staggered over, its gait crooked and unsteady, as if it were walking on cotton.

"Ah... Ah Jiu..."

A hoarse, indistinct voice came from the direction of the shadow.

Ah Jiu loosened her grip, but didn't completely let go of the stone.

The shadow drew closer, and the moonlight revealed a stubble-faced man, a pair of cloudy, drunken eyes, and a gourd of wine that was always in his hand.

He's an old drunkard.

He is back.

Ajiu watched the unsteady figure approaching, but neither spoke nor moved.

The old drunkard walked up to her, plopped down on the ground, and reeked of alcohol. His clothes were even more tattered than they had been three days ago, with a large hole at the knee revealing dark purple skin underneath, as if he had been beaten.

"Here." He took out an oil paper package from his pocket and threw it at Ajiu's feet.

Ah Jiu opened the oil paper package, inside were two scallion pancakes, still slightly warm.

She paused, then looked up at the old drunkard.

The old drunkard had already uncorked the gourd, tilted his head back, and taken a big gulp, swallowing it down with a thud before exhaling a long breath of alcohol.

"What are you looking at?" He glanced at A-Jiu sideways. "If you're not going to eat, I'll eat."

Ah Jiu lowered her head and stuffed the scallion pancake into her mouth.

The bread was a bit hard, and the edges were even a little cracked, but for her, this was the first proper meal she had eaten in three days.

She ate very slowly, taking small bites and chewing each bite for a long time.

The old drunkard watched her eat, his eyes somewhat dazed.

He recalled that snowy night three years ago when he picked up the child from the snow. She was barely bigger than a kitten, covered in bruises, and barely breathing. Everyone thought she wouldn't survive that night.

But she survived.

Not only did it survive, it grew more and more like a wild animal, able to find food, hide, fight with dogs, and stay alert at night, like a small, skinny wild beast.

The old drunkard took another swig of wine.

Sometimes he didn't know if what he was doing was right or wrong. Was snatching this child back from the clutches of death saving her, or was it letting her suffer in this world for a few more years?

he does not know.

But every time he saw Ah Jiu's bright black eyes, he felt that this child shouldn't have died.

"Ah Jiu," the old drunkard suddenly spoke.

Ah Jiu looked up, with crumbs of biscuit still stuck to the corner of her mouth.

"You must remember this," the old drunkard said.

"In this world, no one is as good to you as you are to yourself. If I'm good to you, I might die someday. If you're good to me, you might find out someday that I'm not a good person at all."

He paused, then tucked the wine gourd back into his waistband:

"So don't rely on anyone. Relying on yourself is better than relying on anyone else."

Ajiu looked at him without saying a word.

She didn't know why the old drunkard suddenly said these things, but she kept them in mind.

Many years later, every time she thought back on it, she felt that when the old drunkard said those words, there was something in his eyes that she couldn't understand.

That wasn't drunkenness.

That's the expression that appears when someone's heart has been dead for a long time, only after something has pierced it.

Late at night.

The old drunkard leaned against the wall and was already snoring.

Ah Jiu leaned close to him, folded the oiled paper neatly, and stuffed it into her bosom. She could keep the oil on the paper; next time she couldn't find anything to eat, she could lick it to keep warm for a while.

She looked up at the sky.

There is no moon tonight, and the clouds are thick, like a huge black cloth covering the entire sky.

The barking of wild dogs echoed from afar, rising and falling as if responding to each other.

Ajiu closed her eyes.

The old drunkard is back; she can sleep tonight.

Because she knew that as long as the old drunkard was around, the dogs wouldn't dare come near.

It's not because the old drunkard would hit the dog.

It was the smell of alcohol on the old drunkard and the aura that only those who had spent years at the bottom of society possessed that made the dogs think that this person, like them, was wild.

Even wilder than them.

Ah Jiu gradually fell asleep amidst the smell of alcohol and snoring.

She had a dream.

In her dream, there was a very, very large door with two brass rings hanging on it, engraved with patterns she had never seen before. She stood outside the door and heard people talking inside, a woman laughing, and children running around.

She wanted to push the door open and go inside to take a look.

But the moment her hand touched the door knocker, the door vanished.

She stood in a vast expanse of white snow, with nothing but the wind.

Ah Jiu frowned in her dream, but did not wake up.

The old drunkard opened his eyes at some point, looked down at the sleeping child beside him, and remained silent for a long time.

He reached out and clumsily gathered her tattered clothes together.

Then he closed his eyes again.

A shooting star streaked across the night sky above the ruins, disappearing in an instant.

Nobody saw it.

Just as no one knew that this child, who was fighting with stray dogs for food in the ruins, would one day grow into someone that no one in the world dared to look directly at.

But that was a long time later.

Right now, Ajiu is just a child standing in front of a door that can't be opened in a dream, not knowing where she came from or where she is going.

That's it.