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They had just finished their dinner and were strolling down the street. She had researched beforehand; this area in Myitkyina was supposed to be the most fun, bustling, and safe in the evening.

But soon, something didn’t seem right.

Group after group of menacing-looking people kept passing by. Something seemed to have happened in the distance. The locals began to leave, followed by the tourists. The noise of uproar was everywhere – not the joyful kind, but the kind associated with erupting conflicts.

Soon, when her and other tourists were still confused and unsure of where to go, the whole city seemed to plunge into chaos. In particular, some local youths seemed to have gone mad, yelling and screaming as if they had taken the wrong medicine.

Ye Zijun moved her parents to the side of the road, initially thinking that it was just a local conflict and that they would be safe if they kept out of the way.

But to her surprise, those people seemed to be targeting tourists specifically, especially the Chinese.

Even though they shared the same yellow skin and black eyes and hair as the locals, differences in clothing style and skin complexion made them easily identifiable as Chinese.

When five local youths with their faces covered in cloth and armed with clubs came charging at them, Ye Zijun’s father was the first to react, pulling his wife and daughter to run away immediately.

But among the three of them – a white-collar worker and two retirees – how could they outrun five hooligans? They were quickly surrounded.

Mr. Ye was the first to be stricken down while protecting his wife and daughter. Then it was Mrs. Ye. Two of the rioters carried off Ye Zijun, a young and beautiful girl, into an alleyway between two buildings. It was clear what they intended to do.

Ye Zijun screamed and struggled desperately, but it was all in vain. She couldn’t understand why this was happening. She had never done anything wrong in her life. She had been a good child, committed to studying and working. She was a good student at school, a good employee at her company, and a good daughter in the eyes of her parents.

She had worked hard to bring her parents on this vacation. Why did they have to encounter such a tragedy?

Is there any justice in the world?!

Just when she was at the height of her despair, the rioters suddenly let her go. She fell to the ground, got up immediately, and tried frantically to run in another direction.

But then she remembered her parents, so she stopped and turned around. She then saw the two rioters who were at the entrance of the alleyway, staring at the sky above with a stunned look.

She followed their gaze, and was petrified at the sight of a gigantic giant with many arms striding over the road outside.

The giant should have been about three or four stories high. Every step it took shook the ground, and each step felt like a stomp on her heart, making it skip a beat.

It was surrounded by a bizarre black fog, under which one could vaguely see covered layers of massive muscles.

In the first moment, Ye Zijun felt as if she was in a dream, strong waves of unreality washing over her. But the next moment, all-consuming fear replaced it, causing her entire body to shiver and turn cold.

However, compared to her, the two rioters who were taking her into the alleyway seemed even more terrified.

Both of them had already sunk to their knees; one buried his head in his arms, and the other gazed upwards, muttering to himself.

After the giant passed by, Ye Zijun thought of her parents. Suppressing her fear, she walked by the two rioters who were now kneeling on the ground.

As she passed, she noticed that the mumbling rioter had wet his pants. For a moment, she was taken aback. Could it have been that terrifying?

Upon exiting the alleyway, Ye Zijun saw her father lying on the ground with blood all over his head and her mother protecting him. She immediately rushed over.

As for the other three hooligans with clubs, two of them were kneeling on the ground, and the other one stood there, stupefied. All of them were staring into the distance where, following the earlier movement trend, the many-armed giant should have been heading. It was clear they had all seen the giant, who had just stepped over them.

Summoning her courage, Ye Zijun rushed over to guard her parents and glared fiercely at the three men.

The standing rioter suddenly became aware of something, turned to look at her, and then, his eyes filled with terror, he pointed at her, shouting something and starting to run wildly.

The other two on their knees also got up, threw away their clubs, and stumbled after, running away.

Ye Zijun didn’t understand Burmese, so she had no idea what they were shouting. However, their running in fear was undoubtedly a positive turn of events.

“Daddy, are you alright? Can you stand?” Ye Zijun anxiously checked on her parents’ conditions, “Mom, how about you? Did they hit you?”

“I’m okay… I can stand… What about you, Zijun? Those men didn’t hurt you, did they?” Mr. Ye, covering his head wound, managed to get to his feet with the help of his wife and daughter.

Right then, the two rioters who had dragged Ye Zijun into the alley staggered out, one of them with wet pants.

They glanced at the three Y’s but didn’t come over. Unlike the man earlier, they didn’t shout loudly, but turned around blankly and walked off into the distance.

“Let’s go, let’s hurry up and get back to the hotel. Look up the number of our consulate and depending on the situation, we may need to call for help,” Mr. Ye said, recovering his strength and standing up with the help of his daughter.

Ye Zijun quickly pulled out her phone, only to say in surprise, “There’s no signal…”

Not only her phone, but her parents’ phones also had no signals. Moreover, after a few attempts, their phones froze.

They dared not stay where they were. With shouts and sounds of disturbance coming from all directions, they quickly proceeded towards the direction of their hotel, helping each other along the way.

…

Mao Qiang was a seventeen-year-old Burmese boy. He was tall and, thanks to his love for boxing training, his body looked robust.

He was in tenth grade, equivalent to a high school student in China. Despite his poor academic performance and the fact that college seemed out of reach, he often played hooky, hanging out with several brothers who had grown up with him.

Some of these brothers worked in casinos, others ran errands for the local “bosses”. They made little money, but at least it seemed cool, and there might be a chance they could make it big someday. After all, people like Boss Wu Lun worked their way up from nobody too.

That night, after helping his family close their fish stall, he was called out by his brother, Mao Ting.

Mao Qiang found that with Mao Ting were three other young men who had grown up in this area too. Each one was sporting different kinds of “weapons.”

Mao Ting handed him a long stick with a sharpened piece of metal tied to one end, and then threw him a torn t-shirt saying, “We’re going to get rich tonight!”

Mao Qiang was taken aback: “Get rich how?”

“Just follow me,” said Mao Ting, casually covering his face with a rag, as did the other two companions.

Mao Qiang was led by his brothers, their faces covered, their weapons at the ready, into the streets.

It wasn’t long before they came across a dozen similarly attired young men. Although their faces were covered, Mao Qiang recognized most of them—people from their neighborhood who either worked odd jobs or didn’t work at all.

Soon, he learned what they were all gathered up for—a well-known boss’s only son had been killed, reportedly by a Chinese individual. The perpetrators were now hiding among the Chinese in Myitkyina, and the boss had offered a hefty reward for the murderer.

After gathering more than a dozen men, the group leader decided to target a Chinese-run pharmacy.

With a squad of over thirty people, their faces covered and wielding a variety of weapons, they took to the streets. Bystanders scattered in fear, whereas they strode forward with an air of invincibility.

Mao Qiang felt that something was not right. He quietly asked Mao Ting, “That pharmacy is on the main road, a place with a lot of people coming and going. Surely it can’t hide a murderer?”

“How could we know if we don’t search?” MaoTing replied matter-of-factly, then added, “That guy is a crook!”

Mao Qiang paused and then thought about what Mao Ting had said earlier—’We’re going to get rich tonight.’

He voiced his anxiety, “If we do this… What if they call the police?”

“Don’t worry, the police will be too busy for us tonight,” Mao Ting said quietly, “Boss Wu Lun and his gang are going to war with Boss Gui Hai.”

Mao Qiang remembered the rumors he had heard during the day, with people at the market saying that a fight was coming. He had not expected it to be true.

He still felt uneasy. In his opinion, such a powerful boss, even if he wanted to find his son’s murderer, even if he wanted to offer a reward, shouldn’t be launching a city-wide manhunt like this. Among their group of people, who would know how to find the killer? Who is the killer? If they created a mess in Myitkyina, wouldn’t the authorities come after the boss no matter how powerful his connections were?

However, as he walked among more than a dozen people, he couldn’t muster the courage to stray from the crowd. Besides, Mao Ting had added:

“Tonight, many people will be ‘searching for the murderer.’ There will be too many people, and the police won’t get to us.”

Right, what was that saying? The law did not punish the masses?

Mao Qiang thought about the chubby face of the pharmacy owner, his gold watch, how his friends and family had complained about the high prices of his medicines. It seemed as if he had found a reason to justify their actions.

Along the way, many local young men joined them. Some did not have time to find weapons, so they just took off their upper clothes, covered their faces, and followed along.

By the time they reached the Chinese-run pharmacy, there were already more than thirty people gathered.

Of course, they had not come to “find the murderer.” Upon arriving, without exchanging any words, they rushed into the store.

The chubby owner was taken by surprise. He was pinned to the ground and beaten several times before his watch, jewelry, wallet, phone, and even his shoes and belt were stripped away.

“What are you doing!” a sharp Burmese voice drew the crowd’s attention.

The rioters who stormed into the store noticed a petite, pretty-faced young girl standing at the small door of a room inside the pharmacy, shouting at them.

Mao Qiang recognized her immediately; she was the pharmacist’s daughter. He and his wife had been living in Myitkyina for over twenty years, his wife was a local, and if calculated carefully, they were distantly related to Mao Qiang’s family.

The pharmacist struggled fiercely, shouting in a mix of Burmese and Mandarin: “Get in! Hurry in! Close the door! Call the police!”

But rioters already near the scene shrieked and rushed forth, using their weapons to jam the door so that the girl couldn’t close it.

Mao Ting also tugged at Mao Qiang, eager to go there with him.

Increasingly, Mao Qiang felt something was wrong. Subconsciously, he shook off his companion’s grip and Mao Ting, disregarding him, also squeezed his way in with the group.

Just then, a booming noise came from the road outside the store, followed by the sound of shattering glass, then a string of persistent car alarms.

The lights inside the pharmacy began to flicker. Everyone was taken aback and involuntarily stopped what they were doing and walked out of the pharmacy to see what was going on. Even the rioters who were subduing the pharmacist and trying to break into his daughter’s room came out subconsciously, beckoned by a strange sense of anxiety.

Because of his constant innate hesitation about what he was doing, Mao Qiang was closest to the entrance of the pharmacy, so he was the first to check upon hearing the noise.

As soon as he stepped out of the pharmacy, he was stunned. About ten meters away, an incredibly gigantic foot was slowly descending and then landing heavily on the road creating a vast pit. The enormous tremor and noise made all the electric scooters, motorcycles, bicycles parked on the road side collapse, causing the cars to set off their alarms.

His gaze followed the large foot upwards to see thick legs like towers, a huge torso, and countless arms.

This was a horrifying creature, gargantuan like a mountain, ten meters tall? Twenty meters? No, it could be even higher, Mao Qiang couldn’t even see its head!

Its upper body seemed to merge with the darkness of the night, swallowing up the entire starry sky, bringing an unbearable sense of oppression.

The giant slowly made its way across the road outside the pharmacy. By the time Mao Qiang came to his senses, he found himself unknowingly kneeling on the ground. Some around him were crouched on the ground, trembling, some were running and screaming in the street, others cringe in corners, murmuring to themselves.

Mao Ting, his childhood friend, was now slumped in front of the pharmacy, his eyes filled with terror, seemingly stunned.

Not only them, many people around had come out of their houses. Some sat on the ground helplessly, others knelt down and prayed.

Even the pharmacist’s daughter was standing in the pharmacy doorway, staring blankly in the distance.

Mao Qiang stood up to find that the giant seemed to have disappeared after walking past. He looked around for a long while but couldn’t see its whereabouts.

By reasoning, such a huge figure having just walked past should not be difficult to spot. There were no tall buildings blocking the sight around.

Mao Qiang turned around to discover that the giant footprints left on the road had all disappeared. The ground was intact without any trace.

The shattered glass, the toppled motorcycles, and the electric bikers had also been restored to their original state. Even the unceasing car alarms had ceased.

An illusion?

The giant was an illusion?

Although Mao Qiang thought so in his heart, the sense of awe and fear had not subsided at all. Not just him, the other dozens of young men who had come along all lost their will to continue harassing the Chinese pharmacist. They walked away in a daze one after another.

Mao Qiang started to wander home alone, various images flashing through his mind.

He remembered the times when his father would abandon his fish stand halfway just to rush over when he was bullied by other kids. He remembered coming home from school once to accidentally see his father being oppressed by the market’s toughs and extorted for money; albeit unwilling, his father had to reluctantly pay up and force a smile. He remembered the times his father would hand him cash reeking of fish to buy study materials and stationery, asking him to work hard. He remembered the look of envy in his father’s eyes when his cousin got into university.

He suddenly felt scared, realizing that he’d almost destroyed the thing he feared losing the most; almost destroyed himself, his family.

Mao Qiang forcefully hit his head with his fists several times. Suddenly, he heard some shouting in Mandarin. “Stop!” Mao Qiang bellowed, rushing over.

The two young Burmese were startled and instinctively turned to run.

Although there were two of them, and one of them even had a long stick, but Mao Qiang’s figure was much more massive than theirs. At this moment, rushing over with ample momentum, shouting in Burmese, they didn’t know what they were dealing with. They were not really tough guys, they didn’t have the guts to resist and were scared away immediately.

After driving away the two thugs, Mao Qiang saw the bruised Chinese woman and the two elderly people, both injured and stained with blood. Seeing their terrified looks, he felt a pang in his heart.

He ripped off the T-shirt cloth from his face, pointed at himself, and said in the smattering of Mandarin he had learned before, “I, Myitkyina, good.” Then he pointed in the direction where the thugs had fled and said, “Bad, not Myitkyina!”

The ones saved were Ye Zijun and her parents. She looked at the tall Burmese youth who had chased away the two thugs, and heard his heavily-accented, brick-like Mandarin, she was stunned for a moment, then gratefully said, “Thank you! Thank you!”

Mao Qiang once again looked at the sides of the street, thought for a moment, having exhausted his Chinese vocabulary, he reluctantly said in his broken English, “WHER, YOU, GO? I CAN… Ugh… AND… YOU!”

Despite the disjointed English, Ye Zijun could understand the meaning. She happily said, “THANK YOU! WE ARE GOING TO THE HOTEL.”

She then told Mao Qiang the name and location of their hotel. The young Burmese teen subsequently protected Ye Zijun’s family of three and escorted them to their hotel.

…

While Mao Qiang was compelled by dozens of his fellow men to raid the pharmacy, and when Ye Zijun and her family were attacked by mobs, Jiang Chun, another tourist from China, was leisurely roaming the streets of Myitkyina alone.

Jiang Chun was 41 years old. Six months ago, he resigned from his job and began traveling with his scarce savings.

However, he wasn’t one of those spontaneous travelers suffering a sudden outburst of wanderlust. He was diagnosed with a terminal illness, knowing that treatment was futile. He didn’t have much time left and didn’t want to waste money on hospital stays or medication. So, he conclusively decided to take all his money and explore the world that he hadn’t really seen before.

Anyway, both his parents had passed away, his wife divorced him a few years ago, he didn’t have children or a house, and he was all alone, with no ties holding him back.

When he arrived in Myitkyina, his money was nearly spent. He felt that this was a suitable place for him to pass away.

However, even abroad, he didn’t want his death to affect others. He didn’t want the Burmese to harbor ill sentiments towards the Chinese because of his demise. Hence, he was continuously contemplating an inconspicuous method to end his life, without being found out.

Anyway, no one would look for him.

As he strolled through the streets, contemplating his demise, Myitkyina unexpectedly erupted into riots, with many attacks directed at the Chinese and Chinese tourists.

Seeing the mobs armed with weapons, their faces obscured, moving in large groups, Jiang Chun’s first reaction was fear. He then started to escape and hide, after all, he was merely an ordinary tutor previously.

But subsequently, he discovered a good way to die—he would confront these mobs.

Hence, he rushed towards a few mobs who were attacking Chinese businesses, shouting loudly and throwing stones at them.

As the mobs ran toward him, the streetlights started to flicker, and a gigantic figure appeared on the street, slowly moving.

The horrifying, awe-inspiring spectacle attracted everyone’s attention. Everyone was overwhelmed by the imposing presence, halting all actions.

Jiang Chun looked up, staring at the monster that seemed to have emerged from the abyss, following its colossal frame upwards to its head, where there were more than a pair of eyes.

The bottom-most pair of eyes seemed to glance at him briefly, or perhaps didn’t notice him at all, as if all the beings on the earth were merely ants, unable to draw attention even with a cursory look.

Jiang Chun trembled, his legs went weak, yet he managed to suppress the fear in his heart, running desperately until he fell upon his knees in the middle of the street. He then fell back, arms spread out, closing his eyes.

Falling in line with the trend, the giant monster’s foot was going to land here next. He would be crushed into a pile of flesh and bones.

Just let him die like this…

The arrival of such a monster in the human world, squashing an insignificant person like him, should be taken for granted, right?

He was scared to the core, yet there was an inexplicable sense of relief.

But death didn’t come. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes, the gigantic monster was gone.

He was lying alone in the middle of the street, no footprints to be seen, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.

A flood of emotions overwhelmed him. Jiang Chun, kneeling on the ground, covered his face with his hands and suddenly burst into tears.

This was the first time he cried after learning about his terminal illness.

Crying, he suddenly started to laugh.

He began saying a line he liked from a piece he read during his youth, “Epitaph” by Lu Xun:

“To chill amidst a great song of madness; to see the abyss in the sky. To see nothing in all eyes; saved within hopelessness!”

He stood up from the ground, walking briskly to the distance. Although his fear didn’t disappear, he realized what he was truly afraid of and understood what he desperately wanted to do.

…

That night, the illusory figure of the eight-armed, eight-eyed giant that appeared in Myitkyina, seemed to grow bigger as time passed, in the eyes of different observers.