I've trapped birds for years, seeing my share of weird wings and even weirder folk. But that painter I met bac…
I've trapped birds for years, seeing my share of weird wings and even weirder folk. But that painter I met back then... even now, the memory of him feels straight-up eerie.
Out west by the Wei, the land's barren but wild birds gather in flocks. One day, I caught a golden bird. As I was tying it up, I noticed a painter staring intently at it just a few steps away.
I figured he was a customer and hollered over, "Care for a pet? A Golden Bird. A rare find!"
His eyes lit up, but not for that. "Golden peaches?"
"Right... Golden Peaches! Some folk just call 'em yellow peaches. Sweet as honey!"
He shook his head. "I'm looking for the Golden Birds born of restless souls, valiant spirits who refuse to fade. They take flight from the bellies of lions."
He even believed that golden birds roost where there's a stone lion.
But that plain barely had hills, not to mention a stone lion. Then he decided to paint one here, and later bought the bird from me. To my surprise, he just gently held it, straightened its feathers, and with a flick, the bird flew away.