Tales of a Fox
Description
Everyone knew that fox spirits ual energy from young, virile males, for their spiritual cultivation. An educated Qing Dynasty scholar, Luhan should have known that.
Foreword
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
-The Little Prince
I want to be human
There was a fox preying on Luhan’s chickens. This morning, he awakened to find another hen lost from his coop.
“You!” Luhan bellowed. It was ridiculous – a scholar who had passed the first state examinations at the age of 18, barefooted and standing on wet dirt outside a tiny, rundown hut in the mountains, yelling in frustration into crisp morning air because of a chicken-stealer, the bane of every village peasant, the dreaded fox – Luhan gave a second, louder yell, just to feel better.
Luhan wasn’t rolling in money. He’d taken all his life savings and spent them on a flock of chickens, a goat, tea, candles, flour, a few pots, and of course his writing instruments. It was part of his grand plan, where he would live in seclusion in the mountains, immersing himself in the grand knowledge of chinese literature and statecraft for the provincial exams. If holy men and monks swore by this spartan lifestyle, it had to work for Luhan.
Put it simply, Luhan was desperate. He was a xiucai, now, but so were thousands of others across China. He had to be ready for the Shandong examinations in three years.
And this fox - of all the nonsense that could be thrown into his buns – it had to be a chicken thief.
“Come out and fight like a man!” Luhan hollered. He shook his fist at the pine trees, straining his eyes for a glimpse of white.
“Or a woman!” Luhan added, as an afterthought. This was, after all, Mt. Laoshan, where local legend had it that immortals resided. There was hui xian tai – terrace for meeting immortals – also called shu zhuang tai – dressing terrace for immortals - a precipice rising sharply off the ground, like a tower. Folklore said that fairies would come down on beams of moonlight and rest on the plateau, giggling and combing their long hair.
Luhan would not mind, he concluded magnanimously, if it was a beautiful woman stealing from him. “Come show me yourself in the pale moonlight!” he shouted. Since he was alone in the mountains – travellers rarely ventured to this side of Laoshan – he could say whatever he wanted.
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