The shadow in front of her was exactly the same as the phantom in her memory.
That summer, in the living room of that old apartment building, many times, Li Jing would demand imperiously that the Little Nian transform into the Nian Beast form.
Then she would sit on the sofa holding the little lion, brushing its furry coat while watching TV. The fan blew slowly, and the white curtains fluttered up and down.
Sometimes, when she was tired of reading comic books, she would make the Little Nian turn into a little lion and rest her head on its fur to sleep. Whenever she woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, Li Jing would hold it tightly, burying her face into its warm fur.
Ten years have passed, she has grown so much, yet the Little Nian Beast is still the same as in her memory.
