Chapter 2: The Red Fox

Bai Heng’s most vivid memories from his previous life ended right there.

For many years afterward, he existed in a hazy, muddled state. 

He knew he was dead, yet he still had consciousness, which meant he had not fully died.

He didn’t know where he was. Perhaps because of this half-dead, half-alive condition, even the so-called “underworld” refused to take him. 

It seemed he was drifting somewhere outside the boundaries of life and death.

In that dreamlike yet not quite dreamlike state, even though his consciousness was blurry, he could clearly feel the passage of time—one day, one month, one year…

A thousand years gradually passed. 

During those thousand years, whenever his consciousness became relatively clear, it was when he felt the most bored. 

With nothing perceivable except time itself, he could only endlessly revisit his past memories before slowly sinking back into “deep slumber.”

Another thousand years went by. One day, when Bai Heng “woke up,” he discovered with joyful surprise that he could finally perceive something other than the passage of time.

He perceived “himself.” 

He realized he was not merely some ethereal, mysterious consciousness—he had a “body.” 

However, this “body” was extremely special: it was a single drop of blood, one drop of blood from his living body.

This drop of blood was sealed inside a thumb-sized piece of amber. 

This was the sight he saw after accidentally unlocking a strange new perspective. 

A translucent, honey-yellow amber with a single red speck at its center lay quietly in a small mountain gully, being endlessly washed by the clear mountain spring water.

Having suddenly gained vision made Bai Heng excited, but that excitement soon faded. 

His perspective remained fixed on the amber he inhabited. 

Since amber was an inanimate object, it could not move without external force. 

Before long, the scenery around the small gully became something he grew tired of seeing.

The rainy season was when Bai Heng felt happiest. 

When the gully flooded, the amber that housed him would be carried to new places, allowing him to see fresh rocks, trees, flowers, and plants.

Even so, the days were not too difficult to endure. Bai Heng always comforted himself this way. 

He learned to lower his expectations to the minimum. 

Occasionally, small animals coming to drink from the stream would bring him tremendous delight.

Day after day, another thousand years slowly passed. 

By maintaining a stable and positive mindset, Bai Heng managed not to go mad.

He had now been in the same spot for four years. Four years ago, a mountain flood had washed the amber he inhabited into a low-lying pond. 

After the floodwaters receded, the pond gradually shrank into a small puddle, and now it had completely dried up into a dirt pit.

Before the next mountain flood arrived, he would likely be stuck in this dirt pit for a long time.

Still, Bai Heng’s mood remained quite good, because in a tree hollow not far from the pit lived a family of adorable foxes. 

Watching those foxes play and wrestle every day brought him great joy.

Three years ago, a male red fox had come to the pond where Bai Heng was to drink water. 

Afterward, it dug a hole under a large tree nearby and settled down there.

Bai Heng watched it play every day, watched it go out to hunt and then return to nap under the tree, and watched it come to the edge of the pond to drink when thirsty.

Many days passed like this. 

Close to two years later, Bai Heng saw the red fox bring back a beautiful white fox. 

The two played together, hunted together, napped together, and drank from the small pond together…

During this time, Bai Heng surprisingly developed feelings like a proud old father. 

Watching the red fox gave him the same satisfaction as seeing his own silly son grow up and finally win over a beautiful wife.

After all, he had watched this red fox grow up day by day. 

Though their only real interaction was the fox drinking water from the pond he resided in.

The fox didn’t even know he existed, yet Bai Heng had genuinely developed feelings while “cloud-raising” it.

Bai Heng secretly gave the two foxes names. He called the red fox “Little Red” and the white fox “Little White.”

The names were simple, but they carried Bai Heng’s most sincere feelings toward them.

After spring arrived the following year, Bai Heng noticed that Little White went out to hunt much less often. 

It was usually Little Red who went out and brought back prey for her to eat.

Although called prey, foxes were omnivores. 

Catching small animals was good, but when they couldn’t, they would also eat berries, ferns, and the like.

Most of the time, however, Little Red brought back meat for Little White.

At first, Bai Heng didn’t understand what was happening. 

He thought Little White might be sick or injured. Then one day, he suddenly realized.

Little White was pregnant. 

That was why she no longer went out to hunt easily, and Little Red worked hard every day to bring back meat to provide her with more nutrition.

The day he confirmed that the couple was about to welcome the fruit of their love was the happiest day Bai Heng had experienced in three thousand years.

Another stretch of days passed. With her belly growing noticeably larger, Little White hardly ever left the den. 

Little Red was constantly going in and out, bringing food back for her.

Bai Heng knew that within the next few days, several new lives would be born inside that ordinary tree hollow.

He actually felt a little nervous.

Because of this, he observed Little Red’s every move even more closely.

One early morning, Bai Heng saw Little Red leave the den full of energy. 

In his heart, he said good morning, which could never be heard.

Around noon, Little Red still hadn’t returned, and Bai Heng began to feel uneasy.

By evening, Little Red’s figure had still not appeared. Bai Heng’s mood sank to rock bottom.

When the sky was almost dark, Little White—who had not left the den for a long time—poked her head out. 

She whined softly, sniffing the air, then ran off in a certain direction.

Bai Heng suddenly felt his heart tighten with worry.

When moonlight filtered through the branches and scattered sparsely across the clearing in front of the tree hollow, Bai Heng saw Little White’s lonely figure. 

She didn’t go back into the hollow but lay down in front of it, occasionally lifting her head to listen to the sounds around her and letting out a few soft whimpers.

The next day, Little White went out again and only returned in the evening—alone.

The following days were the same.

Bai Heng never saw Little Red again.

One day, after waiting the entire morning without seeing Little White come out, Bai Heng finally saw her emerge in the afternoon, looking somewhat exhausted.

Little White had given birth. 

How many kits, Bai Heng didn’t know. 

But for her, life from now on would only become harder.

Despite having looked forward to the arrival of these new lives for so long, Bai Heng could not feel happy at all.

Little White quickly became much thinner. 

She would only go out to fill her own stomach after nursing the little ones in the morning. 

Without Little Red’s help, raising several children alone meant her nutrition naturally couldn’t keep up.

All Bai Heng could do while watching was silently cheer for her.

More than a month later, one early morning, Bai Heng saw Little White unusually leave the hollow very early. 

She turned back and whined softly toward the entrance. 

Soon after, a fluffy gray little creature stumbled out of the hollow…

Morning sunlight dappled the clearing in front of the tree hollow. 

Bai Heng counted—one, two, three… a total of four fluffy gray little whimpering creatures playing around Little White’s feet.

Seeing the lively and adorable little kits, the heavy feeling that had weighed on Bai Heng’s heart for over a month finally eased considerably.