A Beast Slinks Towards Beijing

Nightmares Return in Manhattan

In the sweltering heat of a New York summer, Qianze is haunted by a recurring childhood nightmare: chasing a supernatural hare through a foreign forest, only to be wounded by its antlers. The dream's visceral pain lingers after she wakes, mirroring the discomfort of her real life. Her estranged father, Ba, has suddenly reappeared after eleven years, disrupting the fragile order she's built. Their uneasy cohabitation in her cramped apartment is fraught with awkwardness, silence, and the ghosts of unresolved trauma. The return of her nightmares signals that the past is not as buried as she hoped, and that something uncanny is stirring beneath the surface of her everyday life.

The Father on the Porch

Qianze is summoned back to her childhood home in Virginia by a call from her tenants: a strange, elderly Asian man is loitering on the porch. She recognizes him as her father, Ba, who vanished from her life over a decade ago. The reunion is emotionally charged—Qianze is torn between longing, anger, and disbelief. She brings Ba back to New York, where he becomes a disruptive presence, his habits and addictions clashing with her carefully curated solitude. The boundaries of their relationship blur as Qianze is forced to confront the wounds left by his abandonment, and the mystery of why he has returned now.

Living with a Stranger

As Ba settles into Qianze's apartment, his erratic behavior and declining mental state become apparent. He drinks, smokes, and drifts in and out of lucidity, sometimes speaking in riddles about fate and prophecy. Qianze, resentful yet dutiful, monitors him with a nanny cam and tracks his movements. Their conversations are stilted, oscillating between mundane exchanges and cryptic references to the past. Qianze's frustration mounts as she struggles to balance her demanding job with the responsibilities of caring for a father who is both familiar and utterly alien—a living reminder of unresolved pain.

Prophecy and Memory

Ba's mental decline manifests as time-shifting: he relives memories from his childhood in China, blending fact and fiction. He tells Qianze stories of famine, family, and supernatural omens, but the details are inconsistent and sometimes impossible. Qianze tries to piece together the truth, researching historical events and family history, only to find contradictions and gaps. Ba insists he has returned because of a prophecy—a warning he must deliver before it's too late. The elusive nature of his memories, and the possibility of inherited madness, unsettle Qianze, who fears what she might discover about her own origins.

Stories from the Past

Ba's stories transport the narrative to mid-century Manchuria, where his childhood is marked by poverty, violence, and the upheavals of war and revolution. The family's secrets are layered: tales of famine, lost siblings, and a grandmother who arrives with her own burdens. The boundaries between reality and folklore blur as Ba recounts encounters with omens—albino hares, foxes, and the Woman in the Alley, a seer who predicts pain and transformation. These stories are not just recollections but living forces, shaping the destinies of Ba and his descendants, and hinting at a legacy of suffering that transcends generations.

The Woman in the Alley

In his youth, Ba (then Weihong) seeks out the legendary Woman in the Alley, rumored to predict the most painful moment of one's life. Accompanied by his sister Kangmei, he is drawn into a mystical bog where visions of possible futures and inherited curses are revealed. The experience is traumatic and fragmented—memories slip away, but a sense of doom lingers. The Woman's prophecy, and the monstrous thing gestating within Weihong, become central to his understanding of himself and his fate. This encounter sets in motion a cycle of violence, guilt, and supernatural inheritance that will haunt the family for decades.

The Red Thread Unravels

As a teenager during the Cultural Revolution, Weihong is swept up in the fervor of the Red Guards. The narrative shifts to collective violence: children become perpetrators, enacting brutality on teachers and neighbors in the name of ideology. Weihong's participation is both a means of survival and a source of lasting guilt. The red thread—a symbol of fate and blood—binds him to acts he cannot undo. The trauma of these years, and the choices made to protect family at the expense of others, become the foundation of Weihong's adult life, shaping his relationships and sense of self.

Childhoods in Manchuria

The story moves further back to Ming, Weihong's mother, whose childhood in rural Manchuria is defined by poverty, familial neglect, and a longing for belonging. Betrothed as a child to Fei, she finds solace in the company of her future in-laws and her younger brother Qian. The natural world—rivers, forests, and fields—offers moments of freedom, but the threat of war and the expectations of womanhood loom. Ming's encounter with the supernatural hare, which wounds her hand, foreshadows the intrusion of myth into her reality and the beginning of a cycle of pain and transformation.

The Hare with Horns

Ming's adolescence is punctuated by the appearance of the jackalope—a hare with antlers—whose attack leaves a lasting scar. This event, dismissed by adults as fantasy, becomes a symbol of the violence and unpredictability of life. As war encroaches, Ming's world is upended: Japanese soldiers invade, and she is captured and taken to a comfort station. The supernatural and the historical merge, as omens and prophecies become indistinguishable from the horrors of war. Ming's survival depends on her ability to adapt, endure, and, ultimately, to become something other than human.

War and Becoming a Monster

Ming's years in the comfort station are a descent into hell: rape, addiction, and the constant threat of death. She forms bonds with other women, especially Mouse, but loss is relentless. The commander who claims her is more than human—a demon, an oni—who recognizes a kindred darkness in Ming. To survive, Ming embraces her own monstrosity, shedding her former self and becoming something new. Her eventual escape, aided by her brother Qian, comes at a terrible cost: Qian is killed, and Ming returns home changed, marked by trauma and shame, and forever estranged from her former life.

The Comfort Station

The narrative lingers on the daily realities of the comfort station: the camaraderie and despair among the women, the small rituals of care, and the ever-present threat of violence. Ming's relationship with the oni commander is complex—he is both tormentor and the source of the opium that numbs her pain. The boundaries between victim and survivor blur, as Ming navigates the impossible choices forced upon her. The deaths of friends, the loss of children, and the erosion of her identity accumulate, leaving her a ghost in her own life, haunted by what she has endured and what she has become.

The Price of Survival

Ming's homecoming is not a restoration but a new exile. The village, her family, and even her own body are irrevocably altered. She is met with suspicion, rejection, and the impossibility of resuming her former role. Addiction, infertility, and the stigma of her experiences isolate her further. Attempts to reconnect—with her husband, her mother-in-law, and her community—are fraught with misunderstanding and pain. The supernatural inheritance of shame and monstrosity is passed down, as Ming's trauma becomes the soil in which future suffering will take root.

Inheritance of Shame

Weihong's adulthood is shaped by the legacy of violence, secrecy, and shame. His relationship with his mother is strained by half-truths and unspoken trauma. The revelation that his biological father was the oni commander—a literal and figurative monster—shatters his sense of identity. Weihong's own actions, including the betrayal of his grandmother during the Cultural Revolution, compound his guilt. The burden of inherited monstrosity, both supernatural and psychological, becomes a curse he fears passing on to his own children. The cycle of pain seems inescapable, binding past and present in a web of regret.

The Daughter's Rage

In the present, Qianze's life is defined by the aftermath of her father's abandonment and the weight of family secrets. Her attempts to build a new identity—through college, work, and relationships—are undermined by unresolved grief and rage. Encounters with supernatural omens—the fox, the jackalope, the Aunties—intensify her sense of alienation and fear of inherited madness. The return of Ba forces her to confront the possibility that her life is not her own, but shaped by forces beyond her control. Her anger, both a shield and a prison, threatens to consume her unless she can find a way to break the cycle.

The Fox and the Jackalope

Throughout her adolescence and adulthood, Qianze is pursued by visions of the fox and the jackalope—creatures that symbolize both her family's supernatural inheritance and her own psychological scars. These apparitions intensify during periods of stress and transition, blurring the line between reality and nightmare. Attempts to rationalize or escape these hauntings only deepen her sense of isolation. The creatures are both warnings and invitations: to confront the past, to acknowledge the pain that has been passed down, and to choose whether to be defined by it or to forge a new path.

College and Reinvention

At university, Qianze adopts the name Kenzie and tries to reinvent herself, distancing from her family's history and the pain of her father's absence. She navigates the complexities of race, belonging, and friendship in a predominantly white environment, finding solace in new relationships but also encountering fresh wounds. The fox and jackalope follow her, manifesting in dreams and hallucinations, reminders that the past cannot be outrun. Her relationship with Theo offers hope, but her inability to share her true self threatens intimacy and trust.

The Weight of Secrets

As Ba's health declines, the secrets he has carried for decades begin to spill out. He confesses to Qianze the full extent of his past: the violence of his youth, the betrayal of his grandmother, the truth about his parentage, and the supernatural curse that haunts their bloodline. The revelation is both a burden and a release—Qianze is forced to reckon with the reality of her inheritance, the monstrosity and pain that have shaped her family. The possibility of forgiveness, for both Ba and herself, hangs in the balance, contingent on their willingness to confront the truth together.

Confessions and Consequences

In the aftermath of confession, Ba and Qianze are left to pick up the pieces. Ba's remorse is genuine, but the damage done cannot be undone. Qianze must decide whether to continue the cycle of anger and abandonment or to seek a different future. The supernatural elements—omens, prophecies, and hauntings—are revealed to be both literal and metaphorical, manifestations of generational trauma and the struggle to break free from inherited fate. The possibility of healing emerges, fragile and uncertain, as father and daughter tentatively reach for reconciliation.

Atonement and Return

As summer turns to autumn, Ba proposes a journey: to return to his ancestral home, to visit his mother's grave, and to plant flowers together—a gesture of remembrance and renewal. Qianze, after much deliberation, agrees. The act of returning, of facing the past with open eyes, becomes an act of atonement and hope. The cycle of pain is not erased, but transformed: through honesty, care, and the willingness to begin again. The story ends with the promise of new roots, new stories, and the possibility that the beast within can be tamed, if not vanquished.