look out for the monster Nian
Family, fear and passage of time during Chinese New Year
Hi,
Happy Chinese New Year!
Nian (年) is a mythical monster during Chinese New Year, who only comes around during the holiday. As a custom to stay safe, villagers in ancient times would stay up all night, even lighting fireworks to scare the monster away.
Even though it’s an old tale and probably no modern Chinese person would think about it now or retell it to their kids or grandkids, I question such rituals. Staying up late, going into the 6am of next day, confuses and tires the body. Crowds gather and murmur—it’s almost like an endurance test that pushes the body and mind to their limits. So I don’t understand how it could be a triumph over the monster, except by inviting him in.
Throughout my childhood, Nian lived within my family like a ticking bomb. Every year, around the New Year holiday, there were fights and dramatic outbursts, tearing apart the friendly facade. These arguments often erupted over money, household chores, and old grievances, leavings scars long after the dust settled. My dad used to say, “Three women make up a play (三个女人一台戏) ,” and with so many of us, of course, it led to an Osage County moment. But as each year passed, the New Year conflicts grew milder.
Family gatherings can be strange. A lot of the time, you only see them once a year—people you share blood with. The supposedly deep bond is now substituted by meals, chitchat, TV, and perhaps, avoidance. Maybe that’s the root of the emptiness many of my friends have described during this holiday time.
It’s like the feeling of living in a cramped apartment in a big city. One day, I was pushing the elevator button when a teenager passed by, walking toward the opposite end of the hall. Then I was reminded I used to hear baby cry there when I was young. Suddenly, the stranger neighbor grew from a baby to a teenager. Then you wonder, where did time go? And where was I this whole time?
This is a fiction/poem hybrid, an attempt to blur the hard reality and fiction a bit more. It is a documentation of that undercurrent of fear, showing that what we’re afraid of—Nian—is lurking around what seems like a celebrated day. But where is the courage to confront this monster — whether in traditions or in ourselves — today? City life is safe, but would we want to exchange it for the dangers of the village for the thrill of the old times?
Hope you like it!
Until next week,
Rachel
The Nian Monster
She often jump-scares her boyfriend in their five-floor castle,
After he leaves her alone to play video games endlessly.
She waits in the corner, counting the seconds,
Planning the perfect scare, and records his reaction.
Later, she shows the video to his family during Chinese New Year.
“He’s often under a lot of pressure. This helps him let off steam,” she says.
Almost graduated, she’s ten years younger,
Yet carries herself with composure—smart, concise, always direct.
His family praises her, calling her mature beyond her years.
In the traditional myth, Nian, the fearsome beast,
Descends every Chinese New Year’s Eve, terrorizing the villagers.
He feasts on crops, livestock, and even people, especially children.
But one year, an old man, unafraid, used loud noises, fire, and red paper
To chase Nian away, and the villagers never saw him again.
“The tale of Nian is about overcoming fear,” GPT wrote,
“Bringing hope and driving evil forces away for a fresh start in the new year.”
This year, China released DeepSeek, a counterpart to GPT,
And the West, mistaking it for Nian, chased it from their App Store.
The boyfriend made a loud noise to his three-year-old niece,
Her little heart almost leapt from her chest.
She resented him, crying and hiding.
“Let’s get revenge on him,” the girlfriend said, and she did.
The boy’s sister, half a year older, hid in the bed with their grandmother,
Not wanting to socialize, to hear about his latest success.
He was almost a self-made millionaire,
Cash flowing from his clothing business and the traffic it drew.
His authenticity drew eyes but also scorn,
Accusations of privilege—was he truly self-made?
Everything he said was online, everything could turn against him.
His ego swelled and shrank as he got closer to fame,
The Nian monster of notoriety.
“Just one more year,” he said.
“Why do you study so much?” he asked the sister,
Who was finishing her master’s and about to pursue another degree.
He didn’t finish high school.
For her, Chinese New Year was terrifying,
A time to reveal the outcomes of their life choices:
The street or the institution?
The wild jungle or the ivy tower?
A life of fame, money, and cars—or books, knowledge, and hunger?
“I’d invest in your company,” he said,
Proposing a joint business with his girlfriend and sister.
The sister fell silent.
They switched topics: cities they liked, the weather, food—
The trivial chitchat that concealed the deeper tensions.
Fear of not knowing enough, fear of not having enough,
Nian lurks around the corner.