Xiaoman finished scrubbing the last chamber pot, his ten fingers already pale and swollen from soaking in the well water.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, so exhausted that his back hunched slightly.
It added a touch of weariness to his already lean and frail frame.
Though he was not old, he looked as if he had aged seven or eight years.
In the hazy moonlight, a little fox lay quietly on the well cover, its fluffy long tail drooping down and gently hanging over the edge.
Resting its chin on its front paws, it watched him unblinkingly with its watery, round eyes.
Seeing those pale, waterlogged hands and his figure struggling to make out objects in the dark, silent heartache and pity welled up in the little fox's amber pupils.
Unfortunately, Xiaoman's eyesight was poor. In the dim night, he could only grope his way through his chores, relying on blurred shadows and his sense of touch.
Therefore, he did not know that on every such night, this little fox would quietly come and watch over him in silence. Nor did he know that when his hand fumbled for the brush on the stone slab, it was that furry little head that stealthily nudged it right to his fingertips.
It was already midnight by the time Xiaoman returned to his cramped, gloomy room.
The room was right next to the kitchen. Aside from scrubbing chamber pots, he was also responsible for tending the fires.
Half of the room was piled with firewood, and the other half was occupied by his makeshift wooden bed.
Xiaoman groped his way to the low table. When his fingertips brushed against a warm porcelain bowl, a knowing smile touched his lips. He instantly guessed that Xiangyun must have come.
In front of strangers, the young girl was always quiet and reticent, but in truth, she was mischievous and clever. At this moment, she was likely hiding in some shadow, plotting to jump out and startle him.
Feigning ignorance, Xiaoman settled down peacefully by the table, scooping up the wontons from the bowl one by one and bringing them to his mouth.
The wrappers were thin and the filling was generous. With every bite, the piping hot, savory flavor warmed his heart.
As a lowly servant at the Huanyin Pavilion, he usually ate the guests' leftovers; simply having a hot meal was a luxury.
The courtesans and musicians, however, were provided with special late-night snacks. Xiangyun often saved a portion and secretly brought it to share with him.
If he refused to eat, she would get angry and scold him for being too thin.
Sure enough, just as he swallowed the third wonton, a pair of warm little hands suddenly covered his eyes from behind.
"The female ghost is here—" a voice squeaked, deliberately pitched high. "Guess who I am?"
Xiaoman couldn't help but smile. His vision was already blurry, so covering his eyes was entirely redundant, but he still played along gently, "I guess... it's the female ghost."
"Wrong! It's Xiangyun!" The girl released her hands with a giggle, crouched beside him, and used his spoon to scoop up a wonton.
As her hair brushed lightly against his fingers, Xiaoman stiffened slightly. He lowered his head in sudden awkwardness, his pale fingers unconsciously wiping against his trouser leg. "I... I just finished my chores, scrubbing the chamber pots... My hands aren't clean, they're dirty and smell. Let me get you another bowl."
"No need, I already sneaked five of them before you came back," Xiangyun said dismissively. "Besides, you washed up carefully, so how could they be dirty or smelly? When my dad used to work the fields, he watered the crops with manure by hand, and didn't we all eat the rice that grew from it?"
At the mention of her father, a trace of gloom flickered in her eyes.
If her father hadn't died of illness and her family's land hadn't been seized by wicked relatives, she wouldn't have been left helpless and destitute, sold by her aunt to this place to become a musician.
Back then, she had knelt at her aunt's feet, crying her heart out and begging bitterly, only to be met with a cold, harsh reprimand: "You were a foundling anyway! Your father raised you out of the kindness of his heart, and now it's time for you to repay that debt!"
Xiaoman clearly heard the sadness in Xiangyun's voice, so he set down his spoon and asked softly, "Do you still want to hear a story today?"
"Yes, yes!" Xiangyun's eyes lit up instantly.
She loved listening to Xiaoman's stories more than anything.
His voice was always slow and steady, like a stream on a spring night. Whenever she encountered something she didn't understand, he would patiently explain it word by word, and he would also tell her the moral hidden behind each tale.
Xiangyun often guessed to herself that someone like Xiaoman, who had read so many books and knew so much, must have some unspeakable hardship that led him to end up here.
A few courtesans in the pavilion always liked to tease her, saying she was always clinging to a blind man who emptied chamber pots, with half of his face frighteningly burned. They mocked her, saying she must be truly desperate to stomach anything.
Xiangyun never paid them any mind. She felt that when Xiaoman told stories, his whole being emitted a faint glow.
Even the scars on his face seemed to vanish, making him look more handsome and refined than any other man.
Especially a few months ago, when an overbearing, wealthy guest had forcibly dragged her into a room. No matter how she cried and screamed, no one answered—until Xiaoman stumbled in following the sound, shielding her behind him and saving her.
From that moment on, she deeply remembered this young man and made up her mind to stay by his side.
"The story for today is... the fox who watched chess."
Xiaoman looked up slightly, as if lost in memories.
"In the east of the city, there was a young master who was a rare genius in the art of chess. He could read the stars to lay out formations and calculate every chess game in the world. His elders taught him strictly from a young age. While other children played outside, he could only set up a chessboard under the tree in his backyard, practicing by playing against himself.
Every afternoon, a fiery red little head would peek over the wall right on time, tilting its head to watch him place his pieces.
After watching for a long time, the fox memorized the chess strategies.
Once, when the young master was hesitating over a move, a small pinecone happened to fall from the wall, rolling onto the chessboard with a clack. The young master paused, actually made that move, and won the difficult game."
As if recalling something amusing, Xiaoman's voice carried a gentle smile. "From that day on, the young master always kept a plate of pine nut cakes by the stone table. The little fox wasn't shy about it either. It came on time every day, ate two pieces of cake, and watched three games of chess. If a servant came to disturb them, the fox would raise its fur and growl lowly; if the young master spaced out, it would deliberately knock over a chess piece."
"Did they talk?" Xiangyun asked softly. Since it was just a story, her questions were imaginative and free-flowing.
"Never," Xiaoman shook his head. "One played chess, and the other watched. That was perfectly fine."
He turned his head to look out the window. The moonlight was a hazy blur in his eyes, as if separated by a layer of glowing white mist.
He wondered if, in this life... he would ever have the chance to see that fiery red little shadow again.
He was afraid that even if it saw him in his current state, it wouldn't recognize him anymore.
Actually, what he just told Xiangyun about them never talking was a lie.
That little fox had accompanied him for longer than his own parents had.
As a child who drew much attention in his family, he was required from a young age to excel in everything, with not a single mistake allowed in his words or actions. All his inner bitterness, grievances, suppressed exhaustion, and even all the secrets he couldn't share with outsiders—he poured them all out to the little fox.
It often seemed as though it understood, gently stroking the back of his hand with its little paws, tilting its furry little head, and gazing deeply at him with those moist eyes.
At the thought of this, a very faint smile graced Xiaoman's lips.
Outside the window, curled up on a wooden branch tinted by the warm glow of a lantern, was a ball of fiery red.
The little fox raised her front paw and quietly wiped away the tears rolling from the corners of her eyes.
She hid herself within the red light filtering through the lantern paper, unseen by anyone.
But she could not escape a deliberate sense of smell.
Suddenly, the light of a talisman tore through the air!
The little fox jumped up in fright and fled frantically into the night, while the people inside the room remained completely oblivious.
"I knew I didn't smell it wrong, there really is a fox spirit!"
A white cat dashed across the roof tiles in hot pursuit, moving like lightning, relentlessly chasing after her.
Seeing that she couldn't shake him off, the little fox panicked and rolled on the ground.
Instantly, a soft red light bloomed, and she transformed into a woman in a red dress, landing gracefully. With her dark hair cascading down, she cast a backward glance, her tear-stained eyes reflecting her panic.
She suddenly blocked the path of a patrol of guards. With a natural, enchanting charm flowing in her gaze, she cried out tearfully, "Save me, my lords! A mad cat is chasing me and trying to bite me... Please save this humble girl..."
Those eyes were seductive and captivating; without a second thought, the guards shielded her behind them.
In the air, the white cat leaped down from the eaves with its limbs spread out. Just as it was about to unleash the lightning seal formed on its paw, it saw the group of guards swarming forward.
"Oh, crap!" It hastily pulled its paw back to avoid accidentally hurting the humans.
As a result, the lightning struck the cat's own tail, instantly leaving a scorched black patch and a bald spot.
"...Where is that burning smell coming from?" The white cat sniffed in confusion, then suddenly let out a miserable shriek, "Ahhh! My fur!"
Seeing this, the captain of the guards shouted, "It's a cat demon! Get it, men! Take it down immediately!"
Right at that moment, Jiang Zhiyu rushed over with his sword and hurriedly stepped between them. "Hold on, everyone! It's a misunderstanding, a complete misunderstanding! This is Alchemist Ji from the Jingming Pavilion, absolutely not a demon!"
