From that moment onward, the enormous mountain chicken refused to say another word to Chongge. He asked whether it had a name, whether it had really come down from Heaven, and all sorts of other questions, but it would not answer a single one. Occasionally it cast him a cold glance before turning away or closing its eyes. Chongge had no choice but to go on calling it Mountain Chicken.
Chongge had always believed that a good fox kept his promises. Since he had promised to look after the mountain chicken properly, he was determined to do his utmost. He did not know what it liked to eat, and the chicken would not tell him when he asked. So he pulled up all kinds of wild grasses and gathered fruits and grass seeds to put in front of it. At first the chicken regarded his offerings coldly; later it would not even look at them, much less take a bite. It occasionally drank a mouthful or two of the clean water he set before it, but nothing more.
Chongge was heartbroken to see the quantity of chicken meat on the bird diminishing day by day. It refused to eat or move, lying motionless on its grass mat with its eyes shut. Chongge worried that it would grow miserable from being shut inside the cave, so every day he changed into human form and laboriously dragged it outside by its wings to bask in the sunlight. In the evenings he dragged it all the way back inside.
More than ten days passed in this fashion. The mountain chicken still would not eat or speak and apparently considered even looking at Chongge beneath its dignity.
Its previous owner must have been an immortal, Chongge thought. Perhaps it thinks becoming the chicken of a mere fox is beneath its station. He often placed a forepaw solemnly on the bird and told it, “Mountain Chicken, I’ll always be good to you.” The chicken never stirred or paid him the least attention.
One morning Chongge changed into human form as usual and hauled the bird out onto the soft grass to sun itself. Then he resumed his fox shape and trotted back and forth, carrying fruits and grass seeds in his mouth to put before it. He darted into the bushes and found a red fruit. He had just picked it up when the fur on the back of his neck tightened, as though something had seized him, and suddenly he was lifted bodily into the air.
Chongge kicked all four paws and struggled desperately. Then he dropped into a warm embrace. A hand stroked the top of his head, and a smiling voice above him said, “There, there. Don’t be frightened.”
The person holding him was a young man in long blue-green robes. His eyes curved into crescents as he smiled and smoothed Chongge’s coat. “Why, you’re a Heaven-Eclipse Fox! How fortunate that I should happen across a cub of your kind.” Chongge thrashed wildly in his arms. The man patted his head reassuringly. “There, I’m not a bad person. I’m an immortal from the Heavenly Court. My name is Bihua Lingjun. You’re a young Heaven-Eclipse Fox, so you ought to be able to take human form and speak. Tell me, what is your name?”
Chongge’s terror gradually subsided. The man holding him did indeed radiate a powerful, pure, clear immortal aura.
He really is an immortal. But aren’t immortals supposed to stay up in Heaven? Why has he come to this mountain? Could he be the chicken’s former owner, come to fetch it?
Chongge suddenly grew a little afraid. The red fruit was still in his mouth. He carefully spat it between his two front paws and held it tightly before replying in a small voice, “I’m called Chongge. I live on this mountain. If you’re an immortal, what are you doing here?”
The immortal gently stroked his fur. “I was simply passing by and happened to notice you. Little fox, I think you’re very adorable, and you have excellent immortal roots. Would you like to come back to Heaven with me? Heaven is great fun. At my residence I could teach you immortal cultivation. You wouldn’t need to work as hard as you do in the mortal realm, and you wouldn’t have to undergo heavenly tribulations. You could live freely and comfortably. What do you think?”
Chongge immediately shook his head. The immortal sighed. “If you don’t wish to come, I won’t force you.” He gave Chongge’s fur a few more reluctant strokes before setting him down.
Chongge immediately assumed human form. His elders had told him that if he was ever fortunate enough to meet an immortal, he must take human form as a sign of respect.
The immortal smiled and patted his head. “You’re adorable in human form, too.” He glanced at the fruit in Chongge’s hand. “Do you like that kind of wild fruit?”
Chongge shook his head. “No. I’m raising a mountain chicken, and I picked this fruit for it to eat.”
The immortal sounded astonished. “Oh? You’re raising a mountain chicken? A fox keeping chickens! How very interesting.” Chongge lowered his head, his pointed fox ears drooping slightly. “But it doesn’t like me. It ignores me and never eats anything. Oh, right, you’re an immortal! Do you know what mountain chickens like to eat?”
The immortal stroked his chin. “I’ve actually never raised a mountain chicken, and I don’t think anyone in Heaven has raised one, either. I’m afraid I don’t really know what they eat.”
“What?” Chongge said. “But the mountain chicken I’m raising fell from the sky. I found it after it landed. It doesn’t look like any ordinary mountain chicken. It’s huge and colorful. It must be a divine chicken.”
The immortal raised his brows with interest. “A divine chicken? Would you mind taking me to see this chicken of yours?”
Chongge led him out of the woods and pointed toward his cave. “Look, that one lying over there. That’s the chicken I found. It’s enormous and very colorful, isn’t it? It hasn’t been eating, so it’s a little thinner now.”
The immortal looked at the chicken, then down at Chongge. “Where… did you find him?”
“In the woods. There was thunder in the sky, and he fell down.”
The immortal looked at him again. “Why do you think he’s a mountain chicken?”
Chongge blinked. “Isn’t he?”
The immortal smiled slightly. “Of course he isn’t a mountain chicken. He’s a phoenix.”
Clutching the red fruit in his hand, Chongge stood there dumbfounded.
A phoenix! The king of all birds, a divine bird. Not a divine chicken, and certainly not a mountain chicken.
No wonder he was so huge. No wonder his feathers were so colorful.
The immortal said, “Phoenixes are extremely proud. When one is in such a wretched state, he’d rather be mistaken for a mountain chicken than admit he’s a phoenix. No wonder he won’t speak to you when you keep calling him that.”
Chongge’s ears drooped farther, and he lowered his head.
The immortal patted it again. “But don’t worry. You may not be able to keep a chicken, but being a fox who keeps a phoenix is an excellent prospect, too.”
Chongge looked up. “C-can I still keep him?” A phoenix was a magnificent divine bird. How could such a creature let a fox raise him?
The immortal narrowed his eyes in a smile. “Why not? All living things are equal. There’s no inherent distinction between high and low. You found him, saved him, and have been caring for him devotedly. That makes him your phoenix to look after. Hmm, I happen to be raising a phoenix myself. His temperament is probably quite different from your phoenix’s, but as they’re both phoenixes, they should have some things in common.” He felt around inside his sleeve, produced a small book, and placed it in Chongge’s hands. “These are some notes I wrote about caring for a phoenix. I expect they’ll be of some help.”
Chongge held the booklet and stared foolishly at the immortal. The immortal stroked the top of his head once more. “What an adorable little fox you are. It’s a shame you won’t return to Heaven with me. Well, meeting you means we must have some affinity. I’ll give you one more thing.”
He took another item from his sleeve and held it out. “Keep this talisman safe. If you ever find yourself in danger, tear it apart and I’ll come help you as quickly as I can.”
Chongge put away the talisman, tucked the book under his arm, and thanked him. The immortal said he had urgent business elsewhere, transformed into a ray of immortal light, and vanished.
Chongge walked to the mouth of the cave, crouched beside the phoenix, and stroked his feathers. “So you’re a phoenix.”
The phoenix opened his jet-black eyes. His gaze remained cold.
Chongge said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were a phoenix, and I kept calling you Mountain Chicken. From now on, I’ll follow the proper way of caring for phoenixes and look after you all over again.”
The phoenix’s body suddenly stirred. Then he closed his eyes once more.