“Gray, did you come to collect herbs? So did I.”

It was Old Onion.

“Ah, it’s you, Grandpa Onion. I went up the hill just for fun—”

“For fun? Then why did you bring a bamboo basket? Collecting herbs is important work; you shouldn’t be ashamed of doing it.”

Embarrassed, Gray wanted to slip away, but Old Onion blocked his way.

Onion approached Gray. Gray was surprised that the old man was no longer dirty and smelly. He looked tidy and fresh in his light-blue shirt. Onion put his arm around Gray’s shoulder and said affectionately, “Gray, how about going treasure hunting with me today?”

“Grandpa Onion, where are we going?” asked Gray hesitantly.

“You don’t have to worry about it. Just come with me, ha-ha-ha! See, down there next to the cliff. Isn’t that the herb you’re looking for?”

Sure enough! Gray was ecstatic. He ran over to the ancient mountain dragon herbs and dug them up and put them in the basket.

“Grandpa Onion, did you call them out? I’ve been searching all around here. Why didn’t I see them? I’m so hopeless!”

“In fact, you had already seen them. Look, there are more.” He pointed under the big tree.

Under the tree was a ditch, so the soil was more moist, and there were more of the ancient mountain dragon. The herbs were so beautiful. Gray’s heart was beating fast.

“Don’t dig them all up. Save some for the future,” Onion admonished him.

Both excited and ashamed, Gray dug up the herbs.

As they descended the mountain, Onion seemed distracted. He slipped and would have fallen if Gray hadn’t steadied him. He gasped.

“Gray, have you ever been to Magic Spring?”

“Magic Spring? I’ve never heard of it. Where is it?”

“I don’t remember exactly. So many years have passed. Let’s go this way.”

Before Gray knew it, Old Onion had led him into the dense, dark woods. Onion walked in front. The woods had no path, and Gray wondered how Old Onion knew where to go. Did he know that there was a path ahead? Or could he tell the direction even in the dark? This was so fresh and novel to Gray that he forgot about Magic Spring. But suddenly Onion stopped and groaned. Gray saw that a python had wrapped Old Onion around a maple tree trunk.

“Grandpa Onion . . . you . . . ,” Gray stammered.

“Gray, help! I can’t breathe. Get rid of it with your hoe . . .”

Gray dashed over and struck the python with the hoe, violently and blindly, again and again.

“Good, good . . . ,” Onion said lazily, as if enjoying himself.

The python loosened its grip and slithered slowly away through the dead leaves on the ground. Its body was smashed.

“Oh, it’s okay now. Grandpa Onion, are you all right?”

“Of course I’m fine. With you here, I’m safe. I’ve been to Magic Spring just now. What a wonderful view! I’m a little selfish, don’t you think?”