Chapter Eight: The Little Fox of the Iron Family

Humans are just too small, so everything comes to an end...

Tie Xinyuan was deeply vexed, believing he had a massive poisonous mushroom hammer in hand, but no suitable nail to test its power. He certainly wouldn't dare let his mother try something as deadly as an amanita muscaria. Of course, as for the fox, who was ever so loyal, he couldn't use it as a test subject either.

Sitting at the door, basking in the chilly sunlight, Tie Xinyuan turned to gaze absentmindedly at the guards on the palace wall. They were, in fact, the most suitable test subjects. But seeing them grin foolishly just to amuse him, he decided to let them be.

A red date suddenly fell from the sky. Tie Xinyuan grumbled as he stood up, picked up the date, and placed it in the basket beside him. Flashing a broad grin at the top of the palace wall, he considered it a reward for those ignorant brutes.

Then a walnut came tumbling down from above.

Tie Xinyuan sighed. These rascals were treating him like a monkey in a show...

Looking at the lunch his mother brought, Tie Xinyuan had no appetite. Every meal was nothing but bland, white noodles. His mother, afraid he wouldn't like them, doused the top with plenty of sesame oil. Even plain boiled noodles would taste far better than this...

Ever since he had called his mother “mom” aloud, life had undergone a total change. Breast milk, that clean, nutritious, wonderful thing, was now lost to him forever. To wean him, his mother had even smeared turmeric on herself to lessen Tie Xinyuan's desire for milk.

It seemed there was no hope of living on breast milk as a meal. Tie Xinyuan sighed inwardly, picked up the wooden spoon as big as his own fist, and began to eat.

Every mealtime felt like punishment to him.

“Yuan’er, you’re eating so well. Your father loved the soup noodles I made—he’d always eat a whole basin full. You should eat more too, so you can grow up strong like your father.”

Tie Xinyuan wanted to say he didn’t like it at all, but if he didn’t eat, he might starve to death. To survive, he had no choice but to force his stomach to cope.

Long ago, Tie Xinyuan’s appetite was famously difficult to please. Though he didn't crave rare delicacies, the food had to be exquisitely prepared and perfectly flavored, or he would fly into a rage.

Back in those days, the only thing he looked forward to each day was three fine meals. Only with good food in his belly did he feel truly alive.

Now, despite his mother’s pride in her cooking, Tie Xinyuan found it utterly unpalatable. Still, he kept shoveling the meal into his mouth, not stopping until the bowl was empty. Perhaps, after enough time, he might come to like his mother’s cooking.

Seeing how much his mother enjoyed her meal, Tie Xinyuan tossed his peeled boiled egg into her bowl. One egg a day—this was his mother’s rule for him.

Wang Rouhua frowned, but seeing her son’s grinning face, she ate the egg white and placed the yolk in Tie Xinyuan’s bowl. Only then did Tie Xinyuan scoop up the yolk with his spoon and swallow it in one gulp, nearly choking. Wang Rouhua hurriedly gave him some noodle soup, saving him from suffocation.

“What a delicious egg white! Why don’t you like it?” she asked.

In truth, Tie Xinyuan liked egg whites. It was his mother’s misunderstanding that forced him to acquire a taste for yolks; besides, a little extra iron wasn’t a bad thing.

Their simple lunch ended amid his mother’s gentle complaints.

The fox, curled disdainfully in a battered basket, basked in the sun. Ever since this creature had become beautiful, it barely touched the household’s food. The hole in the palace wall had brought it great convenience, and it now dined exclusively on royal fare.

The Tie family always ate lunch early. Wang Rouhua kept to her peasant habits, eating only two meals a day. Though they no longer ate thick porridge when busy and thin gruel when idle, coarse tea and plain food were unavoidable.

The fox stretched lazily, then leapt over the short fence Wang Rouhua had set up, diving straight for the hole in the palace wall.

Squeezing through, it yipped twice at the guards atop the wall. When they waved, it crossed a patch of withered grass and dashed toward the imperial garden. Every day at this time, someone waited there to share a meal.

Recently, Emperor Zhao Zhen of the Song dynasty had been in a terrible mood. Ever since his accession, he had wanted to restore his birth mother, Consort Li, to her rightful place. Yet the debt of gratitude he owed to Liu E for raising him could not be forgotten. Thus, he was trapped in a tormenting dilemma—was birth or upbringing more important?

Even at this morning’s court session, the ministers debated not the post-disaster rebuilding of the capital, but passionately opposed allowing Consort Li’s remains to be interred in Dingling.

Facing the formidable scholar-officials, Zhao Zhen could do nothing but plead illness and withdraw from court.

There was a warm conservatory in a corner of the imperial garden that he loved best. Owing to the lay of the land, it remained spring-like even in deepest winter. Outside, rows of vegetables still grew. Only here could the weary Zhao Zhen feel a shred of vitality.

A snow-white fox raced through the leaf-strewn woods.

At last, a hint of a smile appeared on Zhao Zhen’s face. The young eunuch, Wang Jian, lifted the conservatory curtain with a chuckle. Since the little fox had arrived, His Majesty’s gloom always lightened a little.

At the conservatory door, the fox yipped softly.

Zhao Zhen laughed. “Jian, let it in. These days, it seems only this little one still knows how to behave before me.”

“Justice Bao just talks a bit too much. He wouldn’t truly dare be disrespectful to Your Majesty.”

“His words have splashed right onto my face—how can you call that proper? Never mind, you mean well. Go on, invite my guest in. Look, it’s drooling already—that’s hardly the imperial way to treat a guest.”

Wang Jian stepped aside, and the fox darted in, leaping onto a chair and stretching its neck as the eunuch brought over its meal.

Zhao Zhen chuckled, “What, your master still hasn’t given you anything good to eat today?”

The fox yipped impatiently.

“All right, I see you have your eye on the chicken. Jian, give it the chicken’s head.”

After giving the order, Zhao Zhen began to eat. Wang Jian removed the chicken’s head and placed it in the fox’s bowl, whereupon the fox eagerly buried its head and ate noisily.

Unconsciously, Zhao Zhen finished a bowl of rice. Seeing the fox still eating, he hesitated, feeling he hadn’t had enough, and asked Jian for another bowl.

Wang Jian was delighted. This was the first time in half a year that the emperor had asked for seconds. After serving him, the eunuch quietly slipped a piece of beef into the fox’s bowl, hoping it would coax the emperor to eat a little more as well.

A month earlier, the emperor had encountered this fox in a bamboo grove. The fox, unafraid, had brought the emperor a freshly caught rat when the guards approached, which greatly amused Zhao Zhen.

He strictly ordered that no harm come to this clever fox, and rewarded it with half a fat chicken. From then on, the fox became attached to the emperor, always bringing some gift—a field mouse, a hibernating hedgehog, or a dried mushroom. It never came empty-pawed.

After finishing his second bowl, Zhao Zhen rinsed his mouth with tea and smiled at the fox, “What gift have you brought me this time?”

Wang Jian produced a large pinecone and said with a laugh, “Your Majesty, with winter upon us and all the beasts in their dens, your guest couldn’t find anything alive and had to make do with a pinecone.”

Zhao Zhen looked at the fox still gnawing atop the chair and sighed, “Spring is for sowing, summer for growing, autumn for harvest, and winter for storing—such is nature’s law. We’ve lost our summer growth and autumn harvest, so how can there be any stores for winter? At least the fox can find a pinecone to nibble; for the people outside the capital, even pinecones are hard to come by.”

Wang Jian bowed, “You have opened the granaries, Your Majesty. The people will have food for winter. Besides, the floodwaters have receded outside the city. Though we’ve lost some lives, tens of thousands of acres of silted land have been created. As a child of a farming family, I know such land is the best. With some preparation, next year will surely be a bumper harvest.”

The emperor forced a bitter smile, “Three self-condemnation edicts have cost me my dignity. With each edict, I lose a prince—three edicts, three sons dead. Must all the disasters of the world be due to my failings?”

Seeing the emperor’s pain, Wang Jian dared not speak, but only stood mournfully by his side.

Suddenly, the fox jumped down from the chair, nosed open the curtain, and darted outside. The emperor watched its departing figure with a sigh.

Before long, the fox returned, carrying a yellowed stone in its mouth, which it placed before Zhao Zhen.

Wang Jian exclaimed softly, picked up the stone, carefully wiped it clean, and handed it to the emperor. “Your Majesty, this is the Shoushan stone you discarded last year.”

Zhao Zhen examined it and laughed, “Indeed, it is the very Shoushan stone I threw away in anger last year. Who would have thought the fox would find it? Well, it is good to recover what is lost. Since the fox found it, let it be rewarded. Have the palace craftsmen carve this stone and hang it from the fox’s neck, so that all may know this fox is one of my subjects.”

Wang Jian bowed in assent and looked back at the fox circling restlessly on the floor. With a smile he said, “Aren’t you going to thank His Majesty for his favor?”

The fox paid no heed, perked its ears, and slipped out the curtain. Its belly was full—what reason was there to linger?

Tie Xinyuan lay in his wash basin, drifting in and out of sleep, when the fox slipped in and settled down beside him as a matter of course. A strong aroma of roast chicken filled the air. Tie Xinyuan pried open the fox’s jaws for a look, then sighed, “Damn it, even the fox gets to eat chicken, while I’m stuck with plain noodles…”

PS: Still asking for recommendations, favorites, and clicks—Jie Yu really needs your support.