Under the delicate care of his parents, Meng Lei lived a rather spoiled life his entire childhood. Like many of his peers, Meng’s family acquired their wealth and status in the society through harvesting tea leaves and opening brewhouses in the countryside that granted them the ticket to join the upper-class elites within one of China’s most populated cities. This business eventually offered them opportunities unimaginable to hundreds and thousands who still struggled at the bottom. However, unlike many of their kinds of people from the upper class, Meng’s parents were not the typical Chinese people you would find, as neither of them belonged to the Han ethnic majority that comprised of almost 92% of the Chinese population. Instead, they come from a long heritage of the Hmong people that resided in the stockaded villages of the Yunnan rainforest, tucked far away from city dwellers, and practiced their own traditional ways of living. But despite his parents flourishing in the city without the support of their community, the villagers had abandoned their parents because of their “betrayal to their ancestral code”, according to Meng’s father. Until now, neither side has ever reached out to each other to reconcile, and it’s as if Meng’s parents were forever vanquished from the eyes of the Hmong tribe. But things are about to undergo a dramatic changeover very soon.

It all happened one stormy night when Meng’s parents were on their flight back home from their visit to their newest brewery factory. When Meng arrived at the airport, the police delivered tragic news that an unexpected turbulence caused the plane to crash into the ocean and that there were no survivors left. Although they expressed deep words of solicitude to Meng about his loss of parents, it was not enough to prevent Meng from going into shock. A seemingly normal and inconspicuous day in his life had become an absolute nightmare – he would never get to be with his mother or father ever again. That night, Meng cried and cried until all of his tears were exhausted from his body, a mere corpse slumped against the cold bench just outside the police department. Meng was now legally an orphan, but according to the legal agent who spoke in a gentle voice, there was still hope left. “If you agree, we could make your closest relative as your legal guardian and allow you to officially inherit your family’s wealth. In my personal opinion, I believe this would be the best for you.” But no outsider, no matter how well-intentioned, would understand the consequences that it would lead to. If Meng agreed to live under the custody of his family’s closest relative, he would be sent back to the forest in which his family was banished from years ago, to live an uncharted territory that was different from Meng’s current life in almost every aspect, estranged and hated by his parents’ “enemies by blood.” But Meng, desperate and unprepared to live in the cruel society by his own (and to be honest, a bit curious to see the people that once abandoned his family), boldly agreed to the proposal. The police soon tracked down Meng Lei’s relatives, and thus his uncle, a man Meng had never seen before in his entire life, stepped forward to become his sole guardian for the rest of his adolescent years.

So by the time fall and autumn came, Meng flew out to the distant land of Yunnan in Economy Class, which he can’t say he’s experienced before ever in his life. At the airport, he was greeted by a middle aged man no different from an everyday street goer from the city, who donned a heartwarming yet clearly fake smile.

“Welcome, Meng! Welcome to Yunnan! How’s your flight?” the uncle-like figure greeted, his accent so disoriented that Meng could hardly understand it.

“It was okay, uncle. Thank you for coming here to take me back to the family,” Meng said out of courtesy.

Yet his uncle’s mood immediately darkened after hearing it and responds, “Listen kid. The Hmong village was never supposed to be your home. We only decided to come here because of the law. Do you really think that I want to accept a traitor’s child to my family?” It was then that Meng immediately understood the nature his situation—that he was not a welcomed guest here. So, with no other choice, the new unlikely pair continued to travel alongside each other in an awkward silence. Neither Meng nor his uncle talked to each other during the entirety of the 13-hour bus drive back to the stockaded village.

When Meng Lei finally arrived at the village, he was completely overwhelmed by the situation—the village, mostly comprised by houses built from bamboo, was situated in the middle of a forest with spectacular natural scenery, yet filled with people dressed in traditional robes and dresses that don’t seem to belong to this era. On their way to his uncle’s domicile, a tiny house built on stilts near the edge of the forest, Meng was greeted by the people here, but none treated him with the courtesy they would offer to any other typical guest. They all knew that he was the son of those that “abandoned” their village. As he settled in his uncle’s house, Meng finally received a proper culinary welcome from his aunt and niece. They served him a local cuisine that was developed exclusively by the Hmong people, such as savory chicken heart, steamed mud fish, and fried tea leaves.

As his uncle watched Meng, a son from the noble family trying his best to eat these traditional delicacies of their people with genuine effort, he finally spoke up again with his disoriented accent: “Listen, Meng. I understand that you have just lost your parents, and I am deeply sorry about the quarrel that happened at the airport. But still, I must tell you, living in the Hmong village for you, with us, will be a tremendously difficult task. You were never supposed to come back. You know there are still many people out there that loathed you and your parents because of what they did. Without our protection, you would’ve already been beaten up by some of your parents’ so-called ‘friends.’”

A thousand thoughts went through Meng Lei’s brain. Now, two paths laid before him: he can either choose to stay here with his uncle’s family or to go back to the city in which he will no longer be sheltered by his parents. He was completely shattered by the depressing reality he had to face when he was just only a teenage boy. His parents never quite taught him how to navigate such a tricky situation. But a little voice in the back of his head said he should at least try. “I will prove it to you uncle,” Meng decides. “That I am worthy to stay here.” His uncle nods. “Very well, then. Tomorrow, we will train you the ways of the Hmong people.”

That night, Meng dreamt of his parents. He dreamt of their time spent together and of his home back in the city. He missed them dearly but also saw a glimpse of hope spousing in the distance within his dream. Although hovering above fog, that hope still granted him determination to follow the correct path.

For the next few weeks, Meng Lei remained close to his uncle and learned everything he needed to be with the Hmong people. Being a tribe that shared an innate relationship with nature, the Hmong people depended their life mainly on harvesting mushrooms and herbs in the forest often located high above the mountains. Privileged to have never worked a harsh day in his life, Meng Lei was at first overwhelmed by the daily work he was expected to do. Back in the city, he was a spoiled kid that had everything brought before him, but here, he needed to work consistently to maintain a decent living. When dusk came, the Hmong people would often gather around in the center of the village and light up campfires to perform ritual ceremonies to worship their deities of the nature. During such ceremonies, the Hmong people would put on their most decorated clothes and dance around the fires in a circle while singing lyrics in a completely foreign tone that Meng had never heard before in his life. Although he couldn’t understand anything that came out from the mouths of the Hmong people, Meng still tried to memorize the movements and procedure to fully immerse himself in the cultural context he was living in. During those days, Meng Lei lived a rather non-eventual life with his uncle’s family. Though they never treated him properly, often giving him scornful looks or gossiping behind his back, Meng was satisfied deep in his heart, comfortable in his new environment without worrying too much about the life ahead or being without the company of his long-gone parents ever again.

When Meng Lei came back from his daily tasks from the mountain one autumn night, while all the others have gone to the village center for ceremonial practice, he saw something peculiar showing up far away in the distance. As he approached the edge of the village to find out what it was was, he immediately discovered that there were three local huntsmen carrying a suspicious bag out from the back door of his uncle’s tea garden.

“Quick, we need to transfer the girl out before they find us!”

These hunters did not belong to the native Hmong tribes in this region, and Meng immediately realized that they are traffickers from the suburbs of Yunnan that were infamous for illegally selling young children in black markets. Meng’s brain soon went blank. Without a second thought, he threw off his bag and charged toward the culprits while wielding a sickle that was used to harvest mushroom in his hand.

“Hey! Stop what you are doing and put down the package! Hey! Hey!”

“Who are you? The hell!”

Meng quickly flung one of them down to the ground, and as he tried to cease the other two from moving forward, he was soon beat in the head by a heavy strike. “Ha! It’s just another child who thought he could be a hero. Let’s just beat this one up and leave him here to feed the wild mountain cats!” chanted one of the huntsmen in anger as they continued their attack toward Meng laying half-dead on the ground. In his last breath before passing out, Meng used all his strength and shouted: “Someone help! We are here!” His vision blacked out as his thoughts gradually faded away…

When Meng woke up, he realized that he was surrounded by his uncle’s family. Off to his bedside, a large crowd of the Hmong people also curiously looking at him. “You…you saved my daughter’s life!” a voice appeared at the side of Meng’s ear as he saw his uncle standing beside him, laughing in tears.

“It was what I was supposed to do, uncle.” Meng said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I… I don’t know what to say. You were never responsible for saving her!”

“That’s what I should’ve done. As a family, we are supposed to help each other when others are in need of help!” And this time, his uncle did not deny or rebuke him—instead he hugged Meng so hard that Meng couldn’t even catch his breath.

In the end, the three huntsmen were sent to jail to accept the punishment that awaited them. After all his struggles, Meng finally proved to the Hmong people that he was worthy of staying in the village and even gained respect from many of them. Soon after, Meng gladly accepted his first invitation to lead the dance ceremony one fated night, and his delicate and beautiful performance in front of the crowd immediately surprised the Hmong people. “I always knew that Meng Lei was a natural!” said his uncle proudly. Meng Lei knew deep inside that his talent was actually the result of the sweat and tears he shed as he practiced the traditional Hmong dance for endless hours, but he keeps this thought to himself. Now it was finally his moment for his hard work to pay off. So he danced and danced. He danced to the lyrics of the Hmong myths of the mountain lion he had grown so familiar with until the last spark of the campfire died off. And Meng Lei, finally sitting down on the grass, envisioned himself as the heroic figure depicted in the lyrics: Mao Lei, the child that survived the mountain lion.