This strange land, covering an area of 600 square kilometers, is one of the best-preserved primeval forests in China. Within this mysterious territory lie many unsolved mysteries. Scientists from various countries have long wished to uncover its secrets, yet no significant discoveries have been made.
The primeval forests of Shennongjia tower over forty meters high, blocking out the sky and sunlight. Like jade pillars piercing the heavens, they stand tall and proud, stretching across the entire region. Moss, lichen, and climbing vines drape densely from branch to branch, while long silver threads of beard moss cascade down, shrouding the forest in an air of mystery. Beneath the main peak of Shennongjia lies an endless expanse of alpine arrow bamboo, its golden hue setting off the jagged rocks at the summit like lines of broken walls, faintly visible through the mist. In spring, vibrant rhododendrons bloom in a riot of colors, bringing the mountains to life. In winter, snow falls in profusion, and wintersweet blossoms stand proudly in the wind and snow, their fragrance carried through the frosty air. The Shennongjia forest is truly a sacred land, home to more than 2,000 plant species and over 500 species of wild animals.
What makes Shennongjia even more mysterious is the legend of the "Wild Man." In the west of Hubei Province, between the Yangtze River and Han River to the north of the Three Gorges, lies this vast, untamed forest—said to be the very place where the Wild Man roams.
As the truck drove higher and higher, the mist grew denser. Shikai couldn't help shivering, his breathing becoming short and quick.
What kind of place is this? he wondered. Why is it getting colder and colder, and the fog thicker and thicker? He pulled his coarse blue monk's robe tighter around himself.
Suddenly, the truck came to an abrupt stop. The driver got out, clapped his hands, and, whistling a carefree tune, strolled into a small restaurant nearby.
Seeing the truck halt, Shikai quickly shrank back behind the cargo. After waiting for a while, he heard the sound of the driver's footsteps fade away, accompanied by the distant whistle. He carefully inched forward, poked his shaved head out from under the tarp, and saw that it was utterly quiet outside. Without hesitation, he leapt down from the truck.
By now, he had completely lost all sense of direction. The thick fog limited visibility to barely ten meters.
Shivering in the mist, Shikai thought to himself, If I don't run now, when will I? If they find me, they'll think I'm a thief and give me another beating.
With that, he bolted into the forest. He dared not stay on the road, fearing someone might see him, mistake him for a thief, and haul him off to the police.
This dash into the fog-shrouded forest would completely change the course of his life.
At that moment, he knew only one thing—he had to keep running. The mountain path was rugged, and shrubs and brambles grew thick. His body was already scratched in many places by thorns, but he paid them no mind.
He had no idea how long he'd been running. Whenever exhaustion overcame him, he would lean against a nearby tree to rest. At one such stop, he looked up and saw—it was snowing. Because of the dense canopy, few snowflakes reached the ground. The sight filled him with astonishment.
After a short rest, he pressed on. He could no longer run; the intense highland climate made his chest ache terribly, and his breathing became uneven. It felt as if his eardrums were filled with pressure, and his mind began to sink into fatigue.
Shikai pressed on stubbornly. Along the way, he encountered all manner of strange creatures—no fewer than a hundred species—but he had no heart to admire them. By now, he had no idea where he was. His steps grew ever more cautious as venomous creatures—snakes, scorpions, and the like—began to appear before his eyes. Even the plants around him were becoming increasingly strange.
Moving carefully, he came upon a grove of arrow bamboo. The bamboo swayed like rolling waves in the wind. Shikai stared in astonishment at the sight around him, momentarily dazed.
Then, a wave of dizziness swept over him. His whole body wavered, on the verge of collapse. The unbearable exhaustion, the pain from his injuries, the severe altitude sickness, and the harsh climate assaulted him all at once. At last, he could endure no more—his legs gave way, and he fainted.
On the summit of Shennong Peak, heavy snow, torrential rain, and dense clouds wove a thick veil that shrouded it all year round, hiding its true face. Only in summer and autumn, on clear days when the clouds parted, could one stand on the peak and take in the boundless vistas in every direction. At the very top, rocks and stone forests rose toward the heavens. No trees grew there—only moss and ferns carpeted the ground, giving it the appearance of an ancient, untouched wilderness.
Halfway down the mountain, whether on the steep southern slope or the gentler northern one, the lush meadows revealed three distinct belts of vegetation: the arrow bamboo zone, encircling the mountain in orderly swaying ranks like the sturdy walls of a fortress; the fir forest zone, where towering fir trees stood proudly against the wind and snow, their green needles vivid and glistening; and the rhododendron zone, where clusters of blossoms nestled in the embrace of the firs, their bright colors and delicate beauty striking to behold.
Five kilometers west of the watchtower lay Banbi Rock, famous for its "stone forest" and its reputation as a place where the Wild Man roamed. The surrounding slopes were covered in endless arrow bamboo, forming a natural barrier. It was said that Wild Man sightings were common in this area. In the bamboo groves, traces such as hair, droppings, and bamboo nests had often been found. Research showed that the microscopic structure of the hair was superior even to that of higher primates.
There was also a beautiful legend about Shennong Peak. Long ago, at the foot of the mountain lived a young man and woman—he was handsome and brave, she was graceful and skilled. They loved each other deeply. The local tyrant, Ma Huang, upon hearing of their love, conceived evil designs. He planned to abduct the girl as his concubine and enslave the young man. Learning of this, the lovers fled together into the mountains. Ma Huang pursued them to the very summit, where he shot them both with poisoned arrows. At that moment, Shennong himself appeared. Scattering a handful of bamboo seeds, he transformed them into countless arrow bamboos that trapped Ma Huang inside, where he perished and turned into a leech. Then Shennong gently touched the two lovers—the young man became a towering, steadfast fir, and the young woman became a radiant rhododendron. From then on, they remained together forever, side by side.
Shikai felt as though he were dreaming a long dream. He saw his father, mother, and elder sister. Together, they swam in the warm waters of Hainan Island and basked in the sun. The sea was so warm, and the scorching sunlight on the beach made his whole body burn with heat—hotter and hotter—until it felt as though it might kill him. Suddenly, the images of his family began to fade, swallowed by darkness. He struggled desperately, but his arms and legs would not move.
Little by little, he began to calm down. In the distance, he saw a faint light. His body seemed to move on its own, drifting toward it—when suddenly, a blinding flash struck his eyes.
"Uhn…" Shikai groaned, waking with a start. Forcing his eyes open, he immediately felt as though his head weighed a thousand pounds. When his senses finally returned, he realized—he had been stripped naked and was soaking in a large wooden tub. The tub was filled with water up to his neck, and within the water floated many unfamiliar plants. Wisps of steam curled upward from the surface. He could feel the water growing hotter and hotter, and instinctively understood—there must be a fire heating it from below.
Though he felt miserable, Shikai still managed to glance around and saw that it was already nighttime.
The walls were all made of wood. Not far from the tub stood a stone kang bed. Near the door, a fire burned on the ground, and above it rested a clay pot, the contents already boiling over with steam. The entire room was furnished in the simplest manner.
The water was getting unbearably hot. He could no longer stand it. If this goes on, I'll be cooked alive, he thought. I have no desire to be boiled to death. Panic surged through him, and he shouted, "Hey! It's too hot! Somebody! Why can't I move? Help! Is anyone there?" His voice rose as he struggled in the tub.
At that moment, a figure drifted inside, startling Shikai so badly that cold sweat broke out over his body. How did this person come in without a sound? Is… is he even human?
The newcomer wore clothes made from thick, furry animal hides. Long white hair hung loose around his head, tied carelessly with a thin black cord. Even from this rough attire, one could tell he had a sense of refinement—the hide garments were well-made and fit him perfectly. He looked to be in his fifties, holding a gourd in his right hand from which he occasionally took a sip. His eyes were sharp and bright, his left hand clasped behind his back. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with an effortless grace. Fine white stubble lined his jaw; a high nose and thin lips lent him an air of quiet authority. His piercing gaze was fixed squarely on Shikai.
Snapping out of his daze, Shikai blurted, "Who are you? Why can't I move? It's so hot—let me out!"
"Silence. Don't interrupt my drinking." The white-haired man's voice was cold. "Stay still and cook a while longer. Otherwise, if the cold poison reaches your heart, not even the gods can save you. The fact you didn't freeze to death already means you're lucky."
With that, he drifted out again—swift as the wind.
Shikai was truly shaken this time. He couldn't tell if he'd just seen a man… or a ghost. But the heat pressing against his skin was unbearable, and he had no time to think of anything else. "Hey! Let me out! It's too hot! Are you human or a ghost?" he shouted.
No answer—only silence.
Gradually, the water stopped feeling so scalding. In fact, it began to feel rather pleasant. His body relaxed, and before long, he drifted into sleep.
That night, Shikai slept deeply. When he awoke, it was already noon the next day.
His eyes flew open, and he sat up abruptly—only to find himself lying on the stone kang bed. The faint warmth beneath him told him this was no dream. Cautiously, he climbed down from the bed. He was still completely naked, yet he didn't feel cold. What's more, the pain from his many wounds had greatly diminished. Examining himself in astonishment, he saw that the injured areas had already begun to scab over.
Remarkable, he thought.
On the kang bed, he found a thick garment made from animal hide. Wrapping it tightly around himself, he was swallowed entirely by it—the coat was far too large, covering him from head to toe.
For some reason, Shikai felt a strange sense of fear in his heart. The man from last night… there was something terrifying about him. Moving cautiously, he stepped toward the door. Heart pounding, he slowly pushed it open and peeked outside. All he saw was an expanse of white snow—no one in sight. Relieved, he eased the door open and stepped out.
Snow covered everything. A dense fog hung in the air, shrouding the world so that nothing could be clearly seen.
Shikai sighed, turned back toward the hut—and suddenly collided with what felt like a solid wall, sending him sprawling onto the ground.
Scrambling up, he looked—and nearly cried out for help. It was the man from last night. He had appeared without a sound, standing right in front of him, gourd of wine still in hand, eyes fixed intently on Shikai.
That stare made Shikai's hair stand on end. Summoning his courage, he asked, "Are you a man… or a ghost?" The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Broad daylight—it had to be a man. And even if it were a ghost, would it really be standing here chatting with him? Idiot, he cursed himself. It was far too late to take the question back.
The man's shoulders trembled—and then he chuckled. "Ha! Who would've thought… truly unexpected. I've lived in seclusion for over seventy years, and the first person I meet mistakes me for a ghost. Forget it."
Shikai was stunned. Over seventy years? Then how old is he—ninety? A hundred? But he looks barely over fifty! His curiosity only deepened.
The man went on, "Little monk, think of me as a ghost if you like. Yesterday, you passed out in the arrow bamboo grove. When I found you, you were half-frozen to death. You've got guts, running into an uninhabited zone. Do you have no regard for your own life?"
At the words little monk, Shikai finally realized—the man had mistaken his shaved head and monk's robe for that of a real monk. But as the man continued, cold sweat began to bead on his forehead—not because of the misunderstanding, but because the man's words carried such weight. Shivering, Shikai whispered, "Uninhabited… zone?"
The man gave a short laugh. "Heh. You don't even know where you are, do you?" Uncorking the gourd, he took a long swig before continuing. "This is the core of the Shennongjia primeval forest—the no-man's land. Sometimes, due to magnetic anomalies, even compasses fail. You've got nerve, charging in here. Lucky for you, you collapsed in the bamboo grove. If you'd kept going into the real no-man's land, you'd already be the King of Hell's godson."
At last, Shikai understood—he was in Shennongjia. No wonder the farther I walked, the colder it got, the harder it was to breathe. He felt a wave of relief—thankfully, he hadn't run into any wild beasts along the way.
Quietly, he asked, "You… saved me?"
"Of course I did. Who else would it be? A ghost?" The man's tone sharpened. "There's no one else for a hundred li in any direction. When I found you, you had a raging fever, and the cold had seeped right into your heart. If I hadn't acted quickly—and used my own secret medicine—do you think you'd be standing here today, all lively, chatting with me?"
The man kept referring to himself as old man, speaking with a kind of blunt pride.
Shikai bowed his head slightly and said, "Thank you."
The man glanced at Shi Kai and continued, "I don't think you're really a monk."
Shi Kai nodded. He had only become a monk in hopes of learning martial arts to avenge his parents—he had never truly wanted to live the life of a monk.
Seeing that Shi Kai said nothing, the man didn't press further. He took a swig from his gourd, turned around, and vanished.
Shi Kai once again witnessed this man disappearing right before his eyes, and was utterly shocked. In his heart, he was certain—this man was no ordinary person.
After the man disappeared, Shi Kai went back into the house, curled up by the fire, and fell into deep thought.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there when a wave of hunger suddenly hit him. Unconsciously, he rubbed his stomach. At this point, you could beat him to death and he still wouldn't try to run again—leaving here would surely mean getting lost and dying for sure. Hungry or not, he could only wait, hoping the man would bring him food.
Not long after, a shadow flickered past the window. By the time Shi Kai could see clearly, the man was already sitting opposite him, adding firewood to the small fire. Several skewers of meat, threaded on wooden sticks, had appeared over the flames. Shi Kai was so startled that he leaned back sharply, nearly toppling over.
Inwardly, he thought, So fast… I couldn't even see how he moved.
The man paid him no mind, simply turning the meat skewers over and over, occasionally sipping from his gourd.
When Shi Kai had steadied himself, the man looked at the meat and gave a sinister grin. "What's the matter, little monk? Scared, aren't you?"
"Of course not," Shi Kai replied awkwardly. Like a duck with its beak clamped shut, he forced himself to sound tough out of sheer pride. "I'm not a monk. Can you stop calling me that? I have a name—Shi Kai."
"Oh? Heh, a stone that won't crack open—'Kai' the unopened stone. Not bad." The man teased.
"You—" Shi Kai bit back the rest of his words. If he made this man angry, it would surely bring disaster, so after saying just one word, he swallowed the rest.
"Well? Why don't you finish your sentence—afraid of me?" the man asked as he kept turning the skewers.
"Afraid of you? What's there to be afraid of?" Shi Kai tried to muster some courage.
"Exactly—nothing to fear at all," the man said. "I just haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I used to talk only to the sky, the ground, the animals… and my beloved gourd. Now that I've finally found someone to talk to, I'll make you stay with me forever. Let's see if you get scared then." The man gave a cold laugh.
Shi Kai felt as though he had fallen into an ice cellar. In truth, he was terrified—spending a lifetime with someone like this, appearing and disappearing without a trace, would either drive him mad or scare him to death.
Seeing the strange expression on Shi Kai's face, the man burst into hearty laughter. "Boy, you're quite amusing. I was just teasing you. Maybe I've been alone too long—felt a bit lonely, wanted someone to chat with."
Hearing this, Shi Kai relaxed. Now that he knew the man bore no ill will, he boldly asked, "Uncle, what's your name?"
At that, the man laughed even louder. "Uncle? You're calling me uncle? Hahaha! Even your grandfather calling me uncle would make him seem too young."
Shi Kai frowned at this and thought to himself, What a load of nonsense. He looks about the same age as my father, maybe older with that white hair, but there's no way my grandfather would call him uncle. He's probably been living out here alone so long that he's gone a little crazy. Having reached that conclusion, Shi Kai decided it wasn't worth arguing over such a pointless topic.