In a secluded village nestled amidst rolling hills, I, Li Zi Aan, lived with my beloved sister, Li Zi Fei. Orphans, we relied on our unwavering determination and hard work to eke out a living. The heart of our existence was our hillside farm, where we toiled tirelessly, cultivating a bounty of fruits and vegetables.
One evening, as the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over the farm, Li Zi Fei called out to me. Nightfall in the mountains was treacherous, and my cautious and protective sister worried about the lurking dangers of the wild. The mountains were home to formidable beasts, and tales of malevolent spirits and eerie ghosts haunted the hills.
I, however, dismissed the supernatural tales as mere rumors, paying more heed to the tangible threats of the wilderness. I continued working, lost in my tasks, exchanging a few more words with my sister as dusk enveloped us.
But as night descended, the perilous journey back to our village became increasingly dangerous. Li Zi Fei grew furious at my stubbornness, for she bore the weight of responsibility as the elder sibling. She had cared for me since our parents' untimely demise when she was just seven and I was a mere three years old. With no relatives to lean on, Li Zi Fei had assumed the roles of both sister and parent.
Our meager survival was thanks to kind-hearted neighbors who occasionally provided food and assistance. Now, trapped in the darkening mountains, Li Zi Fei faced the harrowing decision to stay overnight in a small hut on the farm. However, we had no means to start a fire, an oversight born of our belief that we would never need to spend the night there.
As the night grew darker, our fears deepened. We dreaded the prospect of encountering dangerous animals rather than malevolent spirits, but both possibilities weighed heavily on our hearts. Then, my eyes caught a flicker of yellow light in the distance. I alerted my sister, believing it to be a campfire, but Li Zi Fei, consumed by fear, questioned who would light a fire in such a desolate place.
My persistent pleas eventually convinced my sister to investigate. Li Zi Fei, though reluctant, recognized her duty to protect me. The responsibility had forced her into premature maturity, robbing her of a childhood.
Approaching the source of the light, we discovered a fire, and near it, an elderly man who appeared to be nearly 90 years old. His long, unkempt beard and tattered clothing gave him an unsettling appearance. He clutched a machete, a knife, and an axe, and his wicked grin sent shivers down our spines.
Summoning our courage, we politely asked if we could share the fire. The old man smiled but remained unnervingly still, his gaze fixed on us. As I reached for a piece of firewood, the old man's grip closed around my arm, his strength surprising for someone of his age.
Panic gripped me until Li Zi Fei, quick-witted and resolute, hurled a stone that struck the old man's eye, granting me freedom. Together, we fled toward the safety of the hut.
As we reached the refuge of the hut, Li Zi Fei recalled stories told by our neighbors, tales of a man-eating monster known as Ri Toto. The creature was said to assume the guise of an elderly human, and only pungent odors like soybean, garlic, and ginger could repel it. Our stash of ginger offered a glimmer of hope.
Li Zi Fei insisted that I hide under a pile of ginger, even though it wouldn't be enough to conceal us both. She understood that her role as protector and provider demanded sacrifices. With a heavy heart, she instructed me to live well and reminded me of the deep love that bound us.
As I concealed myself among the ginger, the horrifying truth dawned on me. The man-eating monster, Ri Toto, had indeed come. My sister, Li Zi Fei, lay hidden in a wooden box nearby.