At first, Jack was still counting how many times the stone skipped, but soon he lost track. The pebbles bounced and hopped across the river, finally landing in the grass on the opposite bank.

There seemed to be some movement in the grass. Jack suddenly stood up, feeling an urgent need to check it out. The urge was so strong that he jumped straight into the waist-deep river and started wading toward the other side.

He had just taken three steps when something strange happened. From that perfectly ordinary patch of grass, a bird suddenly flew up—or maybe it wasn’t a bird. Jack only saw a flash of green light, didn’t even catch its shape before it vanished.

A wave of indescribable panic washed over Jack. He was known among his peers for his bravery, but this fear rose from deep within, giving him no time to prepare.

Jack scrambled back to the shore, half crawling, half rolling.

Nothing chased after him.

“Stay away from demons.” Jack remembered the warning from the strange man. He shook his head, scoffing at his own fear. There were indeed many odd things in the world, but Wildwood Town was safe. According to old tales, the greatest danger the town had ever faced was a pack of hungry wolves that came from afar one winter—and even that was a legend from decades ago.

“Madman.” Jack muttered to himself, turning to look at the opposite bank. The waist-high grass swayed gently in the night breeze, showing no sign of anything unusual. He rubbed his eyes, unable to even confirm if he’d really seen a green light fly up.

Night deepened. The residents of Wildwood Town had gone to bed early. Occasionally, a few dogs barked. Everything was peaceful; not even the stray cats were out causing trouble. The only person in the whole town with a guilty conscience was probably Jack.

None of the friends who had agreed to meet him on the bridge showed up.

Disappointed, Jack also felt a bit of indignation. At his age, loyalty to friends was held to a very high standard, and he felt betrayed.

He started walking back toward town, deciding to act alone.

“Jack bro?” A tentative voice called from under the eaves.

Jack hadn’t gone far in town before he stopped, his mood suddenly lifting. “What are you doing here? Didn’t we agree to meet on the bridge? Where are the others?”

Brian Smith stepped out, shushing Jack. There wasn’t a single light on the street. He was afraid of the dark and had mustered a lot of courage just to leave his house. “Don’t go to Fangfang’s house. Eric and his gang are waiting there.”

“How come?” Jack asked in surprise.

“I don’t know, maybe the news leaked, or maybe Eric guessed it. Anyway, I heard he’s got people watching near Mr. Qin’s house. If they see you, they’ll go all out.”

A gust of wind picked up. Jack pressed down his straw hat. “Then let’s fight. I’m not afraid of him.”

Brian Smith blocked his way. “No, Eric has adults helping him. We can’t win. Besides… besides, even if we fight, we still can’t rescue Fangfang.”

That last sentence deflated Jack. He took off his straw hat. “Then what should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Brian Smith spread his hands helplessly. “You never really promised anything anyway. Everything we said before was just a joke. No one took it seriously. You don’t owe her anything. Just let it go. In a few days, we’ll find a chance to beat up Eric—he’s always gossiping…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jack replied reluctantly. Things weren’t that simple, but he didn’t know how to explain it to his good friend.

Brian Smith breathed a sigh of relief. “I have to hurry home. Remember that strange man by the bridge during the day? My old man said he’s not crazy, he’s a Taoist priest who specializes in taking children away. If he likes someone, he just takes them, doesn’t even tell the family, and only brings them back after eight or ten years—some never come back at all. I don’t want to go with him. You should go home too.”

“Fangfang would rather go with the Taoist,” Jack said.

Brian Smith was stunned for a moment. “Well, that’s one way, I guess. But who knows if the Taoist would pick her. I have to go…” Brian Smith ran home along the street, glancing back from time to time as if the strange Taoist was hiding in the shadows.

Jack didn’t go home right away. He still ran to the school. Brian Smith was right—a group of people was patrolling nearby. Eric and his gang were there, along with seven or eight adults. From their conversation, it seemed they weren’t guarding against Jack, but were following local customs to drive away bad luck.

Jack went home, found the leftover rice in the pot and finished it, then lay down in bed. He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but soon drifted off.

The next day, when Jack took the horses into the woods, he was still in low spirits. The other herdboys felt guilty toward him and brought him lots of fresh wild fruit. No one mentioned Fangfang.

Jack didn’t bring it up either.

After herding, Jack broke off a flexible willow branch to use as a whip, gathered the horses, and joined his friends to head back to town together.

Today, no one was occupying the bridge. Bruce Smith couldn’t hold his tongue and said, “Oh right, today the Shen family is having a wedding, so Eric didn’t show up.”

In Wildwood Town, it was customary for the bride to enter her husband’s house at dusk, and it was almost time for the auspicious hour.

After crossing the bridge, the herdboys each went home. As they parted, Brian Smith said, “Jack bro, tomorrow let’s find a chance to teach Eric a lesson, so he won’t dare make fun of you again.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied gloomily, chasing after the horses ahead.

At the entrance to the town, Jack heard the sound of musical instruments coming from afar. It seemed the Shen family’s new bride was about to enter her new home.