That night, under the full moon, you decided to do what none of your friends dared to do. You stepped out of your house with steady feet, determined to prove that the jiangshi—the hopping vampire of old tales—was nothing but a myth, a story told by grandparents to frighten their grandchildren.

But the air was strangely cold, still, as if time itself had stopped. You walked through the old stone alleys with only the moonlight as your companion, when a strange sound broke the silence—a heavy flutter, or maybe a sigh from the void itself. You turned around, and you saw him.

that it had to be your imagination playing tricks on you.

But then he lifted his head. And saw you.

In that moment, it felt as if the moon itself had gone dark.

—