Chapter Five: Rescuing the Fox

The hunter saw that Wang Ling was tall and imposing, his complexion fair, dressed in scholarly robes—clearly a man of learning. He grew somewhat apprehensive, hastily returning the greeting with a smile, “Sir, you are too courteous. If there’s anything I can help with, please just say so!”

Wang Ling smiled and said, “I’d like to purchase a few of your game animals. How much would that cost?”

“These… wild game from the mountains aren’t worth much…” the hunter replied, glancing hesitantly at the little white fox at Wang Ling’s feet. It was hard not to notice the fox, so striking by his side.

Before the hunter could dwell on it, Wang Ling produced a gold coin and smiled, “In that case, let me exchange this gold coin for your game. What do you say?”

The unique sheen of gold instantly captivated the hunter’s gaze, making him forget all about the fox.

“This… this, my game isn’t worth nearly so much…” he stammered.

Wang Ling’s smile grew warmer. “It’s alright. Hunting in this cold weather is no easy task. The extra can count as me inviting you for a drink—what do you think?”

Without waiting for refusal, Wang Ling pressed the gold coin into the hunter’s hand.

This so-called gold coin was true currency, cast from gold, shaped much like a copper coin but infinitely more precious. One gold coin could be exchanged for a thousand copper coins; it would buy not just a meal, but drinks for a year or more.

The hunter was thoroughly bewildered, his hands fumbling as he hurriedly handed over the game slung on his shoulder to Wang Ling. “I feel bad, truly… This coin could buy all the game in the hills. I should return it to you…”

He spoke thus, but his grip on the gold coin was tight, unwilling to let go—a reflexive gesture, no doubt.

Wang Ling’s voice grew gentler as he smiled, “No matter. My family is wealthy. Such small things mean nothing. I only ask that, when you return home, you don’t say too much… At most, say a nobleman took a liking to your game and bought it. Nothing else, please?”

His words were carefully weighed. Expecting the hunter to say nothing was impossible. Where did the gold coin come from? In this era, such a sum was not trivial—much like unexplained wealth in the modern world.

After all, copper coins were the everyday currency; gold coins, like gold in later times, rarely circulated.

All in all, it would be difficult to explain and likely troublesome. But asking the hunter not to mention anything else—not even the fox—would suffice.

“Alright, alright…” The hunter agreed at once, eager to comply. Seeing Wang Ling had nothing further to say, and afraid he might reconsider, the hunter quickly turned to leave.

As for why Wang Ling purchased the game, or why he had a fox with him—what business was that of the hunter’s? Perhaps wealthy gentlemen liked to keep foxes, just as they kept cats or dogs.

Meanwhile, Wang Ling untied the game he had just bought and placed it on the ground. The two foxes, who had seemed half-dead, suddenly sprang up like arrows and darted into the undergrowth.

But at a couple of yelps from Little White, the two foxes poked their heads back out from the grass, furtive and sly.

Truly cunning, Wang Ling thought. These two were as sly as Little White. He left them to their own devices, but called after the hunter.

“Oh, by the way…” Wang Ling suddenly stopped him.

The hunter froze, fearing Wang Ling would ask for his gold coin back.

But Wang Ling merely smiled, “In this heavy snow, may I ask where you’re headed?”

Relieved that the coin was not in jeopardy, the hunter noticed a faint blue glow in Wang Ling’s eyes—a strange, needle-like light that quickly turned his pupils jade-green.

Looking into those eyes, the hunter felt as if he were staring into a deep, bottomless lake. His mind was drawn in, and his manner and speech became dull.

He replied, “Sir, not far ahead in Guangyang City, there’s a waxing and waning market—the grand fair!”

Wang Ling was enlightened, remembering, and bowed with a smile, “Thank you for letting me know. And as for today, just forget about it… On your way, you met a nobleman hunting on horseback, who bought your game with a gold coin.”

The hunter, still dazed, repeated this several times before wandering off, lost in thought. It was not until he had walked more than ten miles and was nearly home, that a gust of wind brought him to his senses.

“Huh? How did I get back here in such a haze? Ah, yes, I went hunting today, caught a deer, and a nobleman on horseback bought it from me.”

He hurriedly checked his pocket for the gold coin and found it still there. Reassured, he strode off towards home, not caring that he could no longer recall the nobleman’s face.

Seeing the hunter, whom he had put under a spell, disappear into the distance, Wang Ling smiled, satisfied that the matter had been settled. He thought to himself that, with the grand fair ahead, he might as well take a look and buy some things. The wooden pillow on his bed had broken recently, making sleep uncomfortable, and it seemed the household grain was running low.

He spoke to the three foxes circling his feet, “Come on, this place is dangerous. Don’t return here again.”

Wang Ling couldn’t guarantee the hunter wouldn’t leak secrets, so this area was no longer safe. He wasn’t worried for himself, but feared that the foxes might encounter danger again, and he wouldn’t be able to save them.

In the past, Little White understood most of what Wang Ling said; this time the message was a bit more complex, and Wang Ling wasn’t sure if Little White could comprehend it.

Regardless, the three foxes circled his feet, unwilling to leave. Before long, Wang Ling was confused by their antics. All three were of similar size, their fur pure white without a single blemish. After a few laps, Wang Ling could no longer tell which was Little White.

He could only smile wryly, repeating his instructions to drive them away.

Suddenly, one fox tugged at his trouser leg. Wang Ling paused, “Are you Little White?”

The fox chirped, then climbed up Wang Ling’s trousers to perch on his shoulder, waving a paw as if pointing in a direction.

Wang Ling was no saint, but after months of solitary mountain living, he had grown attached to Little White’s company.

Though he couldn’t understand Little White’s cries, he sensed that there was no longer any pleading or anxiety in them—only affection and playfulness remained.