Chapter Text
A village nestled in the misty mountain slopes held whispers of folktales and superstitions. Understandable, from the way they were cut off from the rest of the major cities and only received news from the rare occasion someone passed through. They kept their stories to their hearths, but quietly stuck talisman to their doors and listened closely to their elders.
Beasts, demons, and ghosts swarmed the mountain side, keeping many travelers far away from their sweeping bamboo forests. It was fine this way, they knew how to protect themselves, and were self-sustainable with their rice fields and good hunts to keep the little village fed. They were happy, if guarded, and lived long and fulfilling lives with plenty of merriment.
At night, the village was locked away and dark. Quiet to keep the worst of the beasts at bay. It’s how they’ve survived for so long.
There were the quiet, peaceful spirits like the fuzhu, a gentle creature who appeared during the flood season, or the jiaoren, beings with fish tails instead of legs who lurked in the lake and kept to themselves. More formidable creatures like ghouls, jiangshi, or a wild monster separated from its pack were an occasional nuisance. But there were demons and ghosts who liked to lurk and cause problems when they could— snatching children from their bed, trapping huntsmen, stealing the skin of beautiful women. These were the rarely found, but quickly resolved incidents that left the villagers on guard, the very reason they have talisman tacked to their doors and a wariness to an unfamiliar face.
Of all the creatures that lurked in their mountain home, there was the Tūn Xīn Kè, or, the devourer of hearts. One of the more feared monsters, but remained a story told to unruly children who trusted too easily. In fact, no one had heard or seen the demon in many years, but the story remained somewhat intact.
A beautiful maiden would be found on your doorstep in the darkest winter night, eyelashes glazed with ice and lips chilled blue. She would be near frozen to death, pleading for entry, but would look at you with her hypnotic eyes that no one could ever resist. Pity would fill your heart as you help her inside, take her to the hearth, and give her some warm food and a blanket. She would smile and thank you profusely for your kind heart.
The maiden would go on to tell a tale, how she ran from a slave trade, or how she lost all her loved ones in a fire, anything to tug at your heart strings. You would offer to let her stay here as long as she needed, at least through the winter if necessary, until the first dewdrop bud broke through the snow and bloomed, only then should she be allowed on her way.
She would stay for either only a night or a fortnight, depending on how the story was told, and on your final night, she would flutter those dark lashes at you and tell you how hungry she was. You’d be confused, as you had just finished a meal with her. She was always hungry, it seemed, you ate a lot together. She would sometimes cook, too impatient to wait for dinner, because the cold made her starve.
“Will you feed me something sweet?” She would ask. You would comply. She would stand with her back to you as you approached. From the back of her beautiful head, a mouth would open and ask once more, “Will you feed me a dessert ?”
The demon would swallow you whole, heart first. The maiden will smile sweetly with her human face but blood would drench her back. She would sigh in satisfaction, finally full.
She would go on her way and would not reappear until the following winter, on the darkest night when the snow was deep and heavy, and when no one could deny entry to their home.