The fox who had been counting froze for a moment, then spat, “Such a young vixen, where did you pick up all that foxy nonsense!”
“That’s right, that’s right! You’re black as coal. Why are you wearing pink?”
All the foxes burst out laughing. The leader, a pipe dangling from his mouth, took a dreamy puff; even his fur seemed to breathe, turning smoother and shinier with every exhale.
“Come on, get moving! If you anger the Great God Yanji, you’ll be punished by being turned into human stakes!”
The foxes let out strange, shrill laughter, as though worshipping the moon. Each had a pipe between their teeth, puffing away in bliss, giggling and swaying, while the great gourds strapped to their backs opened their mouths and greedily swallowed the drifting pink smoke.
Xue Cuo pretended to puff along, but his eyes were secretly fixed on those enormous pink gourds.
Fine gourds. What splendid artefacts.
Gourds, by nature, are grown to store and contain. These ones, refined through fox-spirit rites, were clearly extraordinary, faintly breathing with spiritual energy. They had inhaled who knows how much, yet hadn’t swelled a bit.
A faint lotus aura shielded Xue Cuo’s body, keeping all evil at bay.
Yet even amid such thick clouds of human desire, the fox demons puffed away without succumbing to their beastly instincts. Could it be they had all attained the Dao, merely hiding their cultivation?
The little golden dragon poked out his head, gazed at the pink-tinged sky, and took a curious sniff. At once he went dizzy, seeing countless tiny, multicoloured figures dancing and prancing about.
Xue Cuo swiftly stuffed the brat back into his robe and chiding it: “You little rascal. Don’t cause trouble!”
He decided to test the foxes, so he sidled up to the leader and said admiringly, “Da-ge, these gourds of ours are truly fine treasures.”
The leader, head fogged by smoke, exhaled a pale wisp that took the shape of a weeping woman before fading into the air.
“Our gourds were gifted by the Great God Yanji,” he said proudly. “They can store water and objects, and even collect immortal essence. Hardly common trinkets.”
“How do they compare with those Black Wind Bags the ghost officials carry next door?” asked Xue Cuo.
The fox leader: “Naturally ours are superior! Those shabby wind bags can only trap a few living souls. How could they compare to our immortal gourds, refined from our natal treasures?”
“Natal treasures?”
Xue Cuo blinked, still puzzled.
The fox chuckled slyly. “Once we restore the Great God Yanji to his rightful throne, that thing will grow back. Why, to grow a few more or even make them a few inches thicker would be nothing at all!”
He suddenly tugged Xue Cuo’s cheek and blew a puff of smoke in his face, clicking his tongue. “You look dark to me, but you’re not half bad-looking. When I regain my manly vigour, I’ll paint the town pink and take you as my concubine. Our foxly love will be eternal!”
Xue Cuo’s face froze in horror. “Only not half bad-looking?”
Another fox jumped up, twisting and posing. “I’m beautiful too. Marry me, marry me too!”
The leader grinned. “Your fur shines like moonlight and your face rivals a fairy’s. Truly exquisite! I’ll make you my wife!”
“And me! I’ve thick fur and a natural fragrance!” cried another.
“Very well,” said the leader, laughing, “you can be my equal wife.”
Soon he had one in each arm, while the rest tumbled together, draped over one another in a chaos of fur and flirtation.
Xue Cuo, deeply disappointed, rubbed his face. Suddenly Xuan Zhao’s voice murmured in his mind, “These foxes reek of heavy killing karma.”
“Mm.”
Seeing his silence, Xuan Zhao suspected mischief and asked: [Boy, what are you scheming now?]
Xue Cuo sighed: [I can only be a concubine.]
Xuan Zhao: […]
The foxes grew ever more intoxicated, rubbing cheeks and murmuring sweet nonsense. Xue Cuo kept calling them “good geges,” but his hands were merciless, and he quietly struck several unconscious.
He mused that the so-called Great God Yanji had told these foxes to collect human desire, yet forbade them from indulging too deeply. To manage that, he’d spun a clever lie about their “natal treasures”. Truly malicious.
Leaving them rootless, weightless, and deluded. Such cruelty.
Sidling back to the leader, Xue Cuo whispered conspiratorially. The fox pushed the others aside and sat up: “You mean what you’re saying is true?”
Xue Cuo immediately produced several Black Wind Bags. “Would I lie? You don’t know. My name’s Black Wind, a real dashing fellow! I’ve been getting along famously with those ghost officials. I tell them every day how marvellous our gourds are. They’re positively green with envy! One went back and told his captain, and they’ve agreed to a trade.”
“I told you already. This treasure’s been passed down since the Fox Immortal Granny’s time! We can’t just trade it away. Absolutely not! No.”
“Aiya, but as soon as I said that, the three-metre-tall ghost official burst into tears on the spot… boo-hoo, sniffling like a babe! He begged and pleaded till I pitied the poor sod.”
“He said, ‘Your gourds are heavenly treasures, while our Black Wind Bags are just ragged sacks! Please, good grandfather, have mercy and let us trade two of ours for one of yours!’”
“I knew it was important, so I came straight to ask you.”
“Come now, don’t stop. Keep puffing,” said Xue Cuo smoothly, fitting the fox’s pipe for him. The leader took a long drag and squinted. “Two Black Wind Bags for one gourd?”
“Hee-hee-hee… you’ve done well, boy. I’ll reward you to grow you three or five more.”
Xue Cuo’s scalp prickled. He said quickly, “I’m unworthy! Of course, the first of those should go to you, Leader. I’ll offer up my share as filial respect.”
The leader grinned, exchanged a few murmurs with the others, and said, “You’ve a good heart. Fine, go and handle it. Do it well and you’ll be richly rewarded.”
Xue Cuo’s joy nearly split his face. Like a farmer at harvest, he gathered up the foxes’ great pink gourds. He shouldered one, carried another and had taken more than half their hoard.
“Be quick and come back soon,”
“Aye,” said Xue Cuo, his dark face bright with honest good cheer. “Just you wait and see.”
He had barely stepped out of the den when a soft little golden dragon wriggled free of his robes. The tiny clouds on its tail twisted and swirled. At one moment he formed a V, the next a straight line. He somersaulted and rippled like waves.
Xue Cuo lunged but couldn’t catch him, his face black as the bottom of a pot. “Have you been puffing?!”
Xuan Zhao burst out laughing in gloating delight.
