A crash of metal jarred the old man awake.
He hadn't meant to sleep-- but at his age, sitting down meant dozing off. A twitchy leg had knocked over the pot he had placed ready to hand.
The old beggar scrambled to his feet, peering around in the dark. The fire had burned down to embers. How long had he slept? Tonight of all nights--
He cracked the door open and listened. No sound.
He edged out into the street, looked up past the eaves. The stars in the moonless sky pointed toward midnight. That late? He gulped and listened again.
Nothing but sea-sounds. Waves shushing in and out on the shore below the deserted village, gurgling, rumbling--
Not waves. The breath of the beast clambering up from the sea. The ground shivered with its silent tread.
The beggar darted back inside the widow's house, fanned the coals to a blaze. He lit all the lanterns he'd gathered. For most of them he had shaped a red paper sheath, using all that was left after papering the door in brilliant crimson.
The beggar ran in and out, hanging lanterns from the eaves and bare tree limbs until the street around this one house blazed gold and red.
On village outskirts, a sheep bleated in panic. The villagers had herded their livestock with them in flight to the mountains, but one had been left behind.
There came a thumping and crashing, then Peach Blossom village fell silent.
The beggar eased back inside. By the door one more candle sat ready, lit and flickering. Beside it, a string of whip-cannons, each a tiny packet of black powder branching from one common fuse.
The ground trembled. At the beginning of every year, on the eve of the second new moon after winter solstice, the Nian came up from the sea to ravage the land. Countless warriors had battled in vain against those deadly horns and fangs and claws. Battled, and died.
The beggar peered through the crack.
A huge horned form loomed from the shadows. The air reeked from the monster's breath. It glared at all the shimmering lanterns, and growled. A great horny foot stamped a step closer, long dagger-like claws digging grooves in the dirt of the street. The house shook.
The beast squinted against the light of glimmering lanterns. Nostrils big as windows snuffled the air, taking in the scent of man.
One lone man left in Peach Blossom village. One wise old man.
The beggar lit the end of the fuse, leaped out the door, threw the string of firecrackers to land at the Nian's feet. He banged the metal ladle inside the pot, around and around, and shouted to add to the clamor. The whip-cannons burst, crack after crack, with blinding flashes of magnesium.
Glaring light, brilliant crimson, nerve-jangling noise-- too much for the night-prowling monster from the sea. It backed away hissing in anger, turned and fled to the sea. Vanquished-- until the next New Year's eve.