Tangdi had barely dried half his fur when he sensed something approaching him.
That overpowering smell of medicinal oil…
He rolled over, leaped up, changed into human form, and perched in a tree. Youping came stumbling to its foot and gazed up at him with a heartrending cry. The oil in its fur was half-dry, leaving the coat in clumps. Bits of grass dangled from its whiskers, and tears fell from its eyes one after another.
Tangdi could only shake his head. “You’re tougher than I thought. You actually managed to catch up.”
Youping hugged the trunk with its front paws and tried to climb. It slid down, tried again, and slid down again.
Tangdi sighed. With a flick of his long whip, he caught Youping and tossed it into the shallow water beside the riverbank.
Youping stood in the water, staring blankly at him. Tangdi snapped his fingers, and the water curled into slender little dragons that washed the oil from its fur.
Youping shook off the droplets. Tangdi sprang down to the bank, and Youping immediately hurled itself at him!
Tangdi dodged deftly and cast an immobilizing spell, fixing Youping in place beside the water. Youping looked up at him, its eyes pouring tears like rain as low, broken sobs sounded in its throat.
Tangdi looked down at it with a headache brewing. He had always hated being lectured, yet now he felt an irresistible urge to deliver a lecture himself.
“How can a fox be so hopeless? A fox must rely on itself. In this world, you can’t depend on anyone else. Only by relying on yourself can you survive.”
Youping went on crying pitifully, its nose running as well. The sight of all that sticky mucus was more than Tangdi could bear.
Truthfully, Tangdi had a special feeling toward white-banded foxes. He did not know what kind of fox he himself was. As far as he could tell, he was the only one in all heaven and earth who could change the color of his fur. Whenever he wandered through the great wide world, he sometimes felt as though he belonged nowhere. Of course, Tangdi liked to think that only made him more singular and free-spirited.
White-banded foxes, whose coats resembled those of moon-eclipse foxes, seemed rather like him: they, too, protected themselves by mimicking other colors.
But still…
He poked one of Youping’s front paws with a stick. “Depending on others is a bad habit. You have to grow up and learn to stand on your own. If you refuse to grow and I leave you behind, how will you ever survive?”
Despair filled Youping’s eyes. Its expression plainly said that it wouldn’t survive at all.
Tangdi dropped a pastry beside its paw and tapped it on the head. “Well, the Spirit Lord entrusted you to me, after all. If I abandoned you completely, I’d have some explaining to do. All right, then. Don’t try to stick to me again, and I’ll teach you how to become an independent fox.”
IV
The first step toward becoming an independent fox: finding food.
Tangdi carried Youping to a hillside where a rabbit had made its burrow. The rabbit was a little foolish; only a few thick tufts of grass concealed the entrance.
Youping stood there blankly for an instant, ignored the burrow entirely, turned toward Tangdi, and pounced.
Tangdi slipped aside and cast an invisibility spell.
When his figure abruptly disappeared, Youping froze. After standing still for a while, it began to wail. It went around in circles, dug at the dirt, scratched at trees, and threw itself against the hillside.
It made such a commotion that even the rabbit poked its head out of the burrow, ears twitching as it watched.
Youping caught sight of it and sobbed in a trembling voice, apparently pouring out its grievances to the rabbit about the cruelty of Tangdi’s abandonment.
How humiliating! It was disgracing foxes everywhere!
Unable to stand it any longer, Tangdi used his whip from midair to scoop up Youping and carry it to the river. He made himself visible again and stared at the little fox, full of helpless frustration at its refusal to improve.
Youping sobbed and plunged toward him. It struck Tangdi’s body and slid off. Astonished, it opened its eyes wide and tried again, refusing to accept defeat. It slid off again. Another pounce… another slide…
It pounced and slipped, slipped and pounced. After countless attempts, it finally stopped and looked up at Tangdi through eyes brimming with tears.
Tangdi stood where he was, expressionless. “The Spirit Lord was right. Once you’ve attached yourself to someone and they’ve managed to peel you off, you can never stick to them a second time.”
He crouched and stroked Youping’s fur. “One fox really is different from another. We don’t all think alike. Perhaps you were simply born to be a spirit pet.”
Youping let out a piercing “nn-yah!”
Tangdi raised an eyebrow. “Still arguing? Are you saying that I’m one, too?” He smiled. “I’m not. Among the immortal beasts living at the Spirit Lord’s residence, Geyue, Old Xuan, and I aren’t spirit beasts. I became a proper immortal. My title in the immortal register is Wandering Immortal. It’s simply that the Spirit Lord enjoys raising immortal beasts, while I happen to prefer living as a fox.”
He patted Youping’s head again. “Perhaps you think there’s no difference between becoming a spirit pet and becoming an immortal. But there is. A very big difference.”
A spirit pet existed as an appendage to an immortal. Tangdi, on the other hand, was truly an immortal himself. He could travel as he pleased throughout the Three Realms. If he didn’t want to take on a duty in the Heavenly Court, he could refuse. He was not obliged to take orders from anyone.
He set Youping down in a thick patch of reeds beside the river. “Lie down and close your eyes. What can you hear?”
Youping grumbled twice in protest, then closed its eyes. Its body trembled faintly, its heart still clamoring with frustration. But before long it began to hear things.
It heard the wind brushing the fine fur at the tips of its ears. It heard reed leaves rubbing against one another. It heard tiny insects rustling through the grass. It heard the river flowing…
The murmuring current beat in time with its own heart.
Youping pricked up its ears and opened its eyes. There was a fish in the water. With one little leap it plunged into the river, bringing both paws down on the fish.
The fish got away.
Youping chased it back and forth through the water. The splashing current struck its belly, filling it with an excitement it couldn’t explain. It ran to and fro, sending up droplets that glittered with colorful sunlight and blurred its vision. It tossed its head, and a rainbow sprang before its eyes.
Tangdi lay in the grass and watched through half-closed eyes.
No fox could resist the taste of freedom, not even a plaster fox.
He very much wanted to say something profound to Youping: “Child, this is the Way that lies within your heart.”
He transformed back into a fox, raised his tail, and let it sway among the reeds.
Looking at Youping reminded him of his own childhood. The reeds swaying in the wind had taught him what freedom felt like. The solid earth beneath his belly felt the way he imagined a mother’s embrace would feel: firm, safe, a place where he could relax completely.
Where had he come from? Where was he going?
In an instant, all those bewildering questions fell away. Whenever he chose, he could stand up again and continue forward on his own four paws.
In this wide-open world, there was nowhere he could not come or go. That was why, even after becoming an immortal, he still loved being a fox. Foxes were solitary, free-roaming wanderers. Whether to stay or leave was entirely their own choice.
Watching Youping splash around in the river, Tangdi knew he would never have the little creature glued to him again.
After all, it had finally discovered the taste of freedom. A fox that knew freedom could walk onward on its own.
V
Youping leaped and caught the fish in its jaws amid the splashing waves.
It was the first successful hunt of its life. Thrilled, it raced back and forth through the river with the fish in its mouth. Then it stopped abruptly, turned around, and looked at Tangdi with shining eyes.
Still gripping the fish, it dashed over to Tangdi and placed its catch before his paws.
The fish flopped on the ground in front of him. Tangdi changed into human form and patted Youping’s head. “Well done.”
Youping made a small rumbling sound in its throat, shuffled its sturdy little paws backward, and made no move to bite the poor fish.
Tangdi took a pastry from inside his robe and handed it over, then tossed the fish back into the river.
Youping seized the pastry and swallowed it in great mouthfuls. Tangdi stroked its head with satisfaction. “From today onward, work hard at becoming a strong, untamed fox!”
Youping gave a little “nn-guh,” shook its fur, gazed straight into Tangdi’s eyes with its own shining pair, and suddenly sprang forward…
Early summer, before the City God Temple.
Night had fallen completely. Lai Yitie was about to close his front door when a familiar figure appeared, blocking it with one hand. With the other, the visitor produced a large silver ingot and demanded through clenched teeth, “Medicinal oil. Ten more bottles!”
Lai Yitie wiped his tears with his sleeve and adjusted his mourning cap. “There isn’t any left,” he said hoarsely. “My father passed away suddenly, and this is the one formula he never passed down to me. You happened to buy the last few bottles, sir. It seems that this formula was fated to disappear from the Lai family forever…”
At that, he choked up and could speak no more.
“Spirit Lord, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!” Tangdi wailed, stumbling back to the immortal island with a face full of misery.
Bihua Lingjun put down his chess piece, fetched a book from his study, opened it, and handed it to Tangdi.
Tangdi skimmed a line and nearly blacked out.
White-banded fox, commonly known as the plaster fox: Gentle by nature and fond of affection. During its courtship season in early summer, it offers prey to its chosen mate. Acceptance of the offering constitutes an engagement. A white-banded fox remains faithful to one mate for life, never leaving or abandoning that mate. If one partner is weaker, it will attach itself to the stronger partner of its own accord.
Smiling brightly, Bihua Lingjun patted Tangdi on the shoulder. “Once it grows to about your size, you should be able to peel it off. Three years have already passed. What’s another eight or ten? They’ll go by in no time…”
Tangdi threw back his head and howled at the heavens.
On his chest, Youping wriggled once and began to purr in utter contentment.