In the following days, Bai Heng devoted more of her energy to observing Old Widow Wu.
The old woman still kept to herself.
She continued venturing out every few days to gather firewood in the woods behind the village.
However, Bai Heng noticed that her trips to the woods had become more frequent than before.
Each time she went, she would linger for a while inside the dilapidated mountain god temple. Sometimes briefly.
Sometimes for longer.
When she emerged, the small cloth bundle in her hands would sometimes look fuller and sometimes emptier.
It was as if she were bringing things to the temple. Or perhaps retrieving something.
Bai Heng never approached the temple herself.
She only watched from a distance, carefully committing every detail to memory—the date, the time, and the length of each stay.
This day arrived once again. It was time for Old Widow Wu to head into the woods.
Bai Heng had positioned herself early on an ancient pine tree at the outskirts of the woods.
She peered through the gaps in the branches toward the mountain god temple in the distance.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across the clearing in front of the temple.
Birds chirped among the trees, and squirrels darted about.
Everything seemed normal.
Yet Bai Heng felt that the woods today were quieter than usual.
The birds did not sing as joyfully.
They would chirp a few times before suddenly falling silent.
It was as if something had startled them.
Or as if they remained on high alert.
She narrowed her eyes slightly and activated her Heavenly Fox True Pupils to carefully scan the surroundings.
Nothing seemed out of place.
But that unnatural quietness refused to fade.
Roughly half an hour later, Old Widow Wu arrived.
She carried a bundle of firewood on her back today and walked slowly, just as always.
When she reached the temple, she set the bundle down, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
This time, she stayed inside for a very long while.
Bai Heng counted the passing time. One breath. Two breaths. One incense stick. Two incense sticks.
Nearly an hour had passed, and she still had not emerged.
A faint unease stirred in Bai Heng’s heart.
Just as she hesitated over whether to move closer and investigate, the temple door suddenly opened.
Old Widow Wu walked out with empty hands. There was no small cloth bundle this time.
She closed the temple door properly, picked up the bundle of firewood again, and turned to head back.
When she reached the edge of the woods, she suddenly stopped.
Then she turned her head and looked directly toward the ancient pine tree where Bai Heng was hiding.
This time, her gaze lingered for a long time.
The look in her eyes was different from before. It was no longer a casual, fleeting glance.
Instead, it carried a clear, deliberate meaning.
It was as if she were saying, I know you’re there.
Or asking, Aren’t you going to come over?
Bai Heng remained motionless on the tree.
After watching her for a moment, Old Widow Wu withdrew her gaze and continued on her way.
Her hunched figure gradually receded until it disappeared at the end of the forest path.
Bai Heng stared in that direction for a long time without moving.
She suddenly realized one thing.
All these days, every time Old Widow Wu came to the woods and visited that mountain god temple, she had perhaps been waiting for her.
Waiting for her to walk over on her own.
Waiting for her to speak first.
Yet she had never taken that step.
The moonlight was beautiful that night.
Bai Heng lay at the entrance of her rock cave, gazing at the gradually full silver moon. Her thoughts churned restlessly.
Old Widow Wu’s glance today was clearly an invitation.
An invitation to the temple. An invitation to meet her.
Should she go or not?
If she went, she might unravel the doubts that had been building these past days.
But it also meant she would be proactively revealing herself and placing herself in unknown danger.
If she didn’t go, she could continue hiding. Continue observing.
Continue waiting. But what if she missed something important?
What if Old Widow Wu truly meant her no harm?
What if this was exactly the moment she had been waiting for—
Bai Heng closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She thought of Yun Qing’s entrustment. Of the ancient storage ring quietly resting within her sea of consciousness.
Of the youth Qin Yun’s bright eyes and carefree smile.
She had come here to fulfill a promise.
Not to take risks.
Not to solve mysteries. And certainly not to satisfy her own curiosity.
She needed to remain cautious.
But sometimes, excessive caution could cause one to miss precious opportunities.
Bai Heng opened her eyes and looked out at the moonlight beyond the cave.
She stood up and shook out her fur.
Then she stepped out of the rock cave and slowly made her way toward the woods behind the village.
The moonlight was excellent, illuminating the mountain path clearly.
Bai Heng walked along the familiar trail at an unhurried pace.
She maintained her Heavenly Fox Concealment, keeping her aura suppressed to near nothingness. But this time, she did not deliberately hide her physical form.
Moonlight spilled across her snow-white fur, casting a faint silvery glow.
When she reached the edge of the woods, she paused.
Deep within the forest, the dilapidated mountain god temple stood silently beneath the moonlight. The temple door was ajar.
Whether Old Widow Wu had forgotten to close it or had left it open intentionally, Bai Heng could not tell.
She stood there for a moment before stepping into the woods.
Her footsteps were light.
They made almost no sound as they trod upon the fallen leaves.
Yet in the silent forest, that faint rustling was still clearly audible.
She stopped in front of the temple.
The door remained slightly open, revealing a narrow gap.
A very faint light emanated from within. It was unclear whether it was moonlight filtering inside or something lit within the temple.
Bai Heng did not push the door open immediately.
She simply stood there before the temple, quietly gazing at that narrow gap.
After a moment, a voice came from inside the temple.
The voice was old and hoarse, yet clear.
“Come in.”
Bai Heng’s ears twitched slightly.
She raised her front paw and gently pushed open the old wooden door.
The interior of the temple was dimly lit.
Only a sliver of moonlight streamed down through the broken roof, illuminating the statue in the center.
The statue was heavily weathered and worn, making it impossible to discern which deity it honored.
Beneath the statue, an old woman sat cross-legged.
It was Old Widow Wu.
She was no longer hunched over, nor did she appear frail and decrepit.
She sat upright, her turbid eyes clear and sharp, quietly watching the white fox at the entrance.
“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
She spoke. Her voice remained that same old, hoarse tone.
Yet the composure and calm in her manner were utterly different from the reclusive, mute old widow she had pretended to be.
Bai Heng stood at the doorway without approaching.
“You’re not mute.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Old Widow Wu nodded slightly.
“No, I’m not.”
She paused. Her gaze settled on Bai Heng with a mix of scrutiny and satisfaction.
“You’re quite the cautious little fox. I came to sit in this temple every few days, thinking that if you were interested, you would eventually come over. Who knew you would drag it out until today.”
Bai Heng said nothing in response. She simply continued watching her quietly.
The old woman was not annoyed. Instead, she smiled. The smile spread across her wrinkled face with a touch of kindness.
“Rest assured, this old woman means you no harm. If I did, you would have died in that rock cave long ago.”
She spoke lightly, but Bai Heng’s tail tightened slightly.
The old woman seemed to notice her wariness and waved a hand dismissively.
“Don’t be nervous. If this old woman wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have left that leaf for you.”
Bai Heng’s heart stirred.
“You left that leaf?”
The old woman nodded.
“Yes, it was me. I wanted to see if you could understand its meaning. But you stared at it for a long time and did nothing. So I had to try a different approach—coming here more often until I finally drew you over.”
She sighed.
“You’re a good little fox in every way, except you’re too cautious. Caution is good, but sometimes you should trust people a little.”
Bai Heng remained silent for a moment.
“Who are you?”
She asked directly.
The old woman looked at her with a hint of approval in her eyes.
“Good question. This old woman’s surname is Jiang. My given name is a single character: Po. When I was young, people called me Granny Jiang. Now that I’m old, they still call me Granny Jiang.”
She paused and slowly stood up.
Her movements were unhurried, yet free of the deliberate frailty she had shown before.
“As for my origins, it’s a long story. If you’re willing to listen, this old woman will tell you. If not, you can turn around and leave now while there’s still time.”
She gazed at Bai Heng.
Her turbid eyes held seriousness and a touch of anticipation.
Moonlight streamed through the broken roof, falling between the human and the fox.
Bai Heng did not turn to leave.
She simply squatted at the temple entrance, facing the moonlight, and quietly met the gaze of the old woman who called herself Granny Jiang.