Night Heron: Ah Deng

Many kept animals live on this island. The brocade carp gather into a sheet of gold and red the moment they see a human shadow, mouths open, waiting to be fed; the cats and dogs are used to minced meat in porcelain dishes; even the hawks and falcons that ought to soar have learned to wait for the cooks to bring out tasty beef and mutton.

For them, the time spent waiting to be fed is the best time of the day.

But the night heron doesn't think so. Though people have given it a name, it never answers to it.

It never goes near the viewing terrace where the aromas drift. A meddling diner once tossed a fresh fish, cooked till tender, at its feet, the grease congealing on the bottom of the white porcelain plate. It only glanced down once, then turned its head away, red eyes fixed on the water again.

Its companions laugh at it: why put yourself through this? Come up and wait with us. When the good time comes, just open your mouth and food drops down your throat. Feathers always dry, belly always round, never a speck of muddy stink, never a moment of hunger or thirst.

It doesn't answer, still watching the water. It can see the fish gliding among the rock crevices in the depths, now and then flicking a tail and stirring up a fine ring of ripples.

But sometimes it has to wait until the moon is halfway up the sky. Though its belly rumbles like a drum, the water stays as empty as ever. So it goes hungry, neck hunched, waiting on in the night wind.

But the moment silver scales flash, the instant its beak tip breaks the water, all the wet, cold, hungry, tedious waiting shatters in one faint "splash". The fish slides down its throat still alive, tasting of waterweed and the chill of the muddy bottom: a "good time" it seized with its own beak.

It needn't fluff its feathers for anyone, needn't show off colorful tail plumes before onlookers, much less crowd around a porcelain dish with other birds and bow its neck for a mouthful of leftovers. Its good time isn't the moment someone tosses it food, but every moment it stands alone in the water: wet, hungry, awake.

Because as long as these feet still stand in the water, these eyes still watch the swimming fish, and the taste in this mouth is one it earned itself,

then any time is a good time.

Translated by AI from the Chinese game text. It is replaced automatically when the official English text ships.