SES Chapter 91 Part 1

Chapter 91

On the way back, Zhama was bubbling with excitement, waving his arms and legs around as he retold what had happened the night before.

“—I was helping my mom weave bamboo hats. It got really late, and then we suddenly heard this loud clank on the roof—someone had thrown a stone up there…

—My mom got scared, so I grabbed the machete and a lantern and went outside to look. Nearly scared me to death—your friend Xiao Jiang was lying on the ground, groaning…

—I thought something had happened to him, so I rushed over. But then he lifted his head, looking all nervous, and it frightened me. He said, The wild man was right over there…”

At this point, Zhama raised one finger, imitating Yi Wansan’s sneaky gesture, pointing off in one direction. Mist drifted around them, and here and there, the chirping of dawn birds could be heard.

He lowered his voice: “I saw her too—behind a haystack in the distance. She thought she was well hidden, but the light cast a shadow. You could see it plain as day. And she was breathing so hard, sucking air in and out, that the whole haystack was trembling and swaying…”

“My scalp went numb, all the way down my back. So I shouted out—not a cry for help, no. I shouted, ‘Hey, somebody’s sick over here!’”

“A bunch of villagers came running, surrounding Xiao Jiang—men and women, young and old, everybody.”

Zhama whistled cheerfully, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder as he bragged to Luo Ren and the others about how clever he had been at the time.

Once the crowd had gathered, he felt reassured. Quietly, he began passing the word along, one person after another.

At first, people were a little shaken. But they quickly calmed down. It wasn’t the first time wild animals had strayed into the village. Wolves, boars—once, in a particularly bad year, even a bear. Everyone knew exactly what to do and moved in perfect coordination.

The women, children, and old folks went back inside, shutting doors, locking bolts, and dragging heavy furniture against windows and doors.

The able-bodied men split up: some regrouped quickly with weapons in hand—torches, steel pitchforks—while others circled to block off the outer paths.

The whole village’s strength was mobilized—more than twenty men, four hunting rifles, and two smart, obedient dogs. In the dark, they padded along in step with the men, utterly silent.

Then, the torches were turned toward that haystack.

The wild man wasn’t stupid. If she had been puzzled at first, the moment she saw the firelight, she understood everything. Before anyone could close in, she let out a piercing cry and bolted.

That cry was like the blaring of a war horn. Everyone surged forward, shouting as they gave chase. The torchlight blazed like fire about to set the whole mountain forest boiling. The dogs barked, shadows swarmed everywhere, and from the village came the pounding of pots and gongs, women and children sending them off like a battle drum.

Hāi~ luó~ luó…

When mountain folk gather in numbers, they fear no beast. The fiercer and bigger the animal, the more excited they become.

Yi Wansan called from the back, flustered: “It’s enough just to drive it away…”

But amid the tide of the hunt, his voice was like smoke—dissipating before it could settle.

The wild man stumbled as she ran. She had been heading straight for the forest, but the men who had gone around earlier suddenly lit their torches, shouting to block her way.

Forced to change course, she was herded and driven, encircled, and pushed toward the village traps.

These pits had been dug especially for large predators—lined with sharp stakes and fitted with animal clamps, nearly ten feet deep. They had an impressive record: once trapping a wild boar over two hundred pounds, and even catching a bear.

Here, Zhama’s face hardened with anger. He pointed at one of the young men in their group. “Sonam’s dog lunged at it. The thing just grabbed it with one hand, twisted like this—crack.”

Sonam couldn’t understand Mandarin, but the gesture was clear enough. Realizing they were talking about his dog, his eyes reddened, and he turned his face away.

Luckily, there were already people waiting by the trap. The moment the wild woman stepped onto it, someone yanked the rope hard, the false cover snapped away, and she let out a furious howl as she plunged.

Thinking back on it, Zha Ma still felt shaken. “She was strong—really strong. Stronger than a wild beast. She actually leapt up again. The trap’s mouth was so high, but she jumped. Old Man Bujiang was standing close by and didn’t react in time. She clawed his leg, left this huge bloody gash, and even tore off a piece of flesh.”

“And then she jumped again—her hands actually grabbed onto the rim of the trap. Everyone was terrified. They stabbed with the steel pitchforks, fired the guns—bang, bang, bang…”

They fired until all the bullets were gone. The gunshots echoed endlessly in the mountains until, finally, people stopped, their bloodied pitchfork tips stuck in the dirt.

When they held torches down into the pit, the wild woman was lying there, eyes wide open, but lifeless. A shot had hit her face; steel pellets were embedded deep into her cheek.

One of the dogs leapt down, circling her, barking, gnawing viciously at her arm. One by one, people climbed down to gather around.

Villagers came too. Kids ran around the trap’s edge, playing, until Zha Ma stopped them: “Stay back, don’t fall in.”

Zha Ma’s mother wrapped Old Man Bujiang’s wound. His white beard puffed with each sigh as he muttered, “What a pity, such a pity…”

Bujiang was a well-traveled elder, often invited by the township or the county to explain local customs to visiting scholars. He lamented that the township officials had asked many times about the wild folk and said that if they could have captured her alive, it would have been a huge scientific breakthrough.

Zha Ma turned his head and saw Yi Wansan standing blankly at the edge of the crowd.

He remembered when he first met him—Yi Wansan was lying on the ground. He must have been hurt, so Zha Ma quickly called his mother over to check.

Strangely, though she checked him head to toe, not a scratch, not even a bruise.

Zha Ma remembered asking, “Where are you hurt?”

Yi Wansan didn’t answer. A long silence passed before he murmured one line:

“As long as she’s gone, that’s enough.”

Zha Ma often told this as a proud tale. Wolves and boars they hunted all the time, but a wild woman? That was rare—a story for endless retelling over tea.

He added that because of the incident, even the market day was canceled. At dawn, someone had already hitched a mule cart to report to the township. Old Man Bujiang said, even dead, she was valuable for research, so they had to report it.

Zha Ma chattered about it all the way, full of excitement—without noticing that Luo Ren and the others weren’t smiling.