Chapter Eighty-Four: The Wolf Maiden

A winter night, heavy with swirling snow.

At the gate of the Li residence, an old woman with white hair, dirty and bent, knelt on the ground, banging on the door and pleading for help. Beside her sat a child, crouched on the frozen earth with an iron chain around her neck. Her hair was long and filthy, obscuring her entire face, but through the tangled strands, one could glimpse eyes wild as a beast, baring her teeth and restless, crouching like an animal unable to find comfort.

Her fingernails were long and sharp as knives, her arms covered in scars—some left by whips, some by blades, others by hot irons. She was, by appearance, only in her early teens, yet had suffered so much that pity stirred in the heart. To call her human was a stretch; she was more beast than person, and even she herself did not know what she was.

When the old woman found her, the girl was delirious, attacking and biting anyone she saw like a wild creature. There were rumors that in the mountains of Lanzhou, werewolves roamed. Anyone who entered the woods was said to have their heart and liver devoured by the wolf.

Women used these tales to frighten unruly children, claiming that if they misbehaved, the werewolf would come for them. After hearing such stories, every child became obedient and quiet, never daring to cause trouble again. Yet none had ever seen the werewolf with their own eyes—was it a man or a woman, old or young?

“Why is it you two again? Stop knocking and go away!” A servant of the Li family, hearing the commotion at the gate, came to investigate. Upon seeing the old woman with her beastly companion, he quickly slammed the door shut.

The frigid wind howled, making the old woman tremble, her thin coat offering no protection from the biting cold. Her legs had gone numb. She struggled upright, tugging the iron chain to lead the werewolf girl away. Just then, the door opened once more, and a handsome young man stepped out.

He was the young master of the Li family, Li Da, son of Li Laishun.

“Please wait!”

Li Da hurried to stop them, carrying a brazier and a food box. Smiling gently, he offered both to the old woman.

She shook her head, refusing to accept, tears welling up in gratitude. She had only come to beg for a garment for the werewolf girl; the food Li Da had given last time was still not finished, so they were not lacking.

That morning, the old woman found the werewolf still asleep, unusual for her. Concerned, she approached and discovered the girl shivering, her face flushed, forehead burning hot, eyes half-closed, muttering deliriously. It was no wonder—she always went barefoot in the freezing cold. How could she not fall ill?

The old woman had made her a pair of shoes, but the girl would not wear them, nor could she put them on herself. She could not speak or express herself, yet from her eyes, the old woman sensed she cherished the shoes. Living together in a dilapidated temple, the werewolf hid the shoes in the brick wall, taking them out each day to gaze at them before carefully returning them.

The old woman’s husband had died early. Her son squandered the family’s wealth, gambling away everything at the moneylender’s, losing even his wife and children as collateral. Driven to desperation by creditors, he drowned himself in the river. Out of pity, the creditors spared the old woman further torment.

By then, the house had already been pawned. Penniless, she borrowed money from neighbors to retrieve her son's body, wrapping him in a straw mat for burial. After his death, his wife went mad and hanged herself with their child, leaving the old woman utterly alone.

When she heard rumors of the werewolf in the mountains, she went there, resigned to offering her life. Instead of the werewolf, she encountered wild beasts, and in the midst of their attack, the werewolf girl appeared, leading a pack of white wolves to drive them off and save the old woman.

Though the werewolf could not speak, the old woman understood her, treating her as family. Through her, the old woman found hope to live again, wishing to accompany her.

Now, seeing the werewolf ill and trembling, the old woman’s heart ached. She dressed the girl in shoes and wrapped her in her own coat, braving the snow to seek help at the Li residence.

For it was known that Li Da, the young master, was kind-hearted and never looked down on those of humble birth. Only he would truly help them and save the werewolf’s life.

“Thank you, young master. May good fortune reward your kindness! Thank you! Thank you…”

Taking the brazier, the old woman placed it beside the werewolf for warmth. As the brazier was taken away, Li Da, frail and susceptible to the wind, coughed twice. The steward hurriedly urged him back inside.

Li Da smiled, covering his mouth as he coughed again, waving off concern. He took out some silver and handed it to a servant, instructing him to fetch a physician. On snowy days, doctors charged dearly for house calls, and the extra silver was hush money.

He feared that without a reward, the servant would complain to his father, who would surely punish him and forbid him from leaving his room.

The werewolf girl recognized Li Da. Sick, her fierce gaze had softened, and she looked at him with gratitude.

Standing with the old woman by the gate, she worried for Li Da’s health and tried to return the brazier, but he insisted she keep it for the werewolf, saying he was fine.

Soon, a man with a medicine box arrived, dressed as a physician. He examined the werewolf, lifting her eyelids and checking her pulse.

Apart from a cold and fever, her pulse was strange—not merely caused by weather, but by something else. Yet, his skills could not uncover the true cause.

He carried a set of silver needles and selected two, one long and one short, piercing them into the top of her head. Twisting the ends slowly, the werewolf’s pained expression eased a little, though it was only a temporary relief, not a cure.

Within her body, a peculiar force seemed to control her, not madness, but something that made her restless and confused.

The physician refused payment, declaring that healing others was above all else. Besides, his abilities could not cure her completely, so he felt undeserving of reward.

The old woman and the werewolf knelt, thanking him. He promised to return every so often to treat her free of charge, for healing others was also an opportunity to hone his skills.

But their peace was short-lived. The werewolf’s madness soon erupted in its most violent episode, nearly killing the old woman herself.