The Little Fox Spirit Doesn't Want to Carry a Cub - Chapter 23

When Li Ruan woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. He was awoken by a noise outside the window. Sitting up dizzily, he rubbed his eyes and saw a dark silhouette outside. The little mountain sparrow was perched on the windowsill, pecking rhythmically at the frame.

With a wave of his hand, a gust of wind blew the window open, and the sparrow flew in.

“Li Ruan, how was last night? Jiang Shen believed you, right?” The sparrow landed on the edge of the bed, cocking its head proudly. “My idea was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

“I feel like he didn’t entirely believe me,” Li Ruan said, lying back down and hugging the quilt. “He asked so many questions I couldn’t answer.”

“But if he didn’t believe you, wouldn’t he have kicked you out?” the sparrow argued.

“True.” Li Ruan tilted his head. “He even let me sleep in his bed, so he probably doesn’t suspect me too much.” He had completely forgotten that he was the one who pretended to sleep to avoid answering questions.

Jiang Shen had been gone for a while, but his scent hadn’t completely dissipated from the room. Li Ruan hugged the quilt that Jiang Shen had tucked around him yesterday and took a deep breath. Perhaps because of the cub, he was now very dependent on Jiang Shen’s scent; without it, he couldn’t even sleep well. The few pieces of clothing Jiang Shen left in the cave had been crumpled and rubbed so much over the past few days that they were nearly unwearable.

However, the scent in this room was limited. Jiang Shen had only arrived at the temple at dusk yesterday and hadn’t stayed long. Feeling unsatisfied, Li Ruan decided to find the man himself.

“Do you know where Jiang Shen went?” Li Ruan sat up and asked the sparrow.

“He’s at the altar in the front mountains this morning, presiding over some grand ceremony. I saw him,” the sparrow replied. It had found a branch to sleep on last night and witnessed the start of the ancestral ritual this morning. “I went to the woods to eat some fruit, and when I came out, the crowd at the front mountain had already dispersed. Hasn’t he come back?”

“I don’t think so,” Li Ruan said uncertainly. Although he had slept soundly, he had a vague sense of when Jiang Shen left this morning. If he had returned, Li Ruan shouldn’t have missed it entirely.

“I did see some plates of snacks in the courtyard, though,” the sparrow said, pointing outside. “Were they prepared for you?”

Li Ruan walked to the window. Sure enough, there were several plates of pastries on the stone table in the courtyard. He hadn’t noticed them last night, but he vaguely recalled the table being empty. Was it Jiang Shen?

“Forget it.” The attraction of food was far inferior to Jiang Shen himself. Li Ruan didn’t overthink it; with a shimmer of light, he transformed back into a small fox. “Let’s go find him.”

Jiang Shen was originally supposed to return immediately after the ritual. According to the schedule, he would preside in the morning, rest and prepare in the afternoon, and then enter the Ancestral Hall in the back mountains tomorrow for three days of fasting and prayer.

However, a hitch occurred.

“Entering the Ancestral Hall tonight?” Jiang Shen looked at the man in court robes bowing respectfully before him, his expression unreadable. “How sudden. That wasn’t what was written on yesterday’s schedule.”

The man was the Head of the Bureau of Sacrifices, over fifty years old and always amiable. “Initially, that was the case. However, last night the temple priest and I observed the celestial omens; today is an auspicious day, most suitable for entering the hall to pray. Your Highness came to pray for His Majesty; entering a day early would show your filial piety and determination to the ancestors and the Heavens…”

He spoke slowly, testing Jiang Shen’s patience. Jiang Shen cut him off: “In that case, why wait until tonight? Let’s go now. How about that?”

The official froze.

“Don’t we want the ancestors and Heavens to see my determination? Is entering half a day early enough?” Jiang Shen’s lips curled into a smile, but his eyes remained cold. “Go prepare.”

He gave no one a chance to argue. After the official left, Yu Xiu stepped forward. “Your Highness, this…”

Jiang Shen stopped him. “Follow me inside to change.”

Back in the side room, Jiang Shen removed his heavy purple ritual robes, leaving only a light purple inner robe. The rules for fasting and prayer were different; he had to go alone and live simply. As a maid removed his crown, Jiang Shen instructed, “Everyone withdraw. I have words for Captain Yu.”

Once they were alone, Jiang Shen remarked dryly, “Some people can’t even wait three days.”

“Your Highness, are you truly entering the hall now?” Yu Xiu asked.

“You heard him. If I don’t go, I’ll look like I lack filial piety,” Jiang Shen said, fastening his hair with a simple wooden hairpin. “Those old fellows are just waiting to catch me in a mistake. I must show my ‘sincerity.'”

Worshipping ancestors wasn’t Jiang Shen’s true intent. He would rather search the land for famous doctors than believe that chanting sutras in a hall would cure the Emperor. But the court and the people valued these rites. To win their hearts, he had to perform—and perform perfectly.

“It’s such a waste of time,” Jiang Shen sighed. He had wanted to go back and interrogate that “little fellow.” Now, this would take at least three days.

“But your safety…” Yu Xiu worried. The rules forbade guards in the hall; only a manager delivering vegetarian meals could approach.

“Everything will proceed as planned. Don’t worry,” Jiang Shen said. “But there is one thing. Have someone prepare more plates of snacks and send them to the courtyard where I stayed last night. Leave them in the yard; do not enter the room.”

Yu Xiu: “…” He was loyal, but not stupid. “Your Highness, about that ‘hypothesis’ you mentioned this morning…”

Jiang Shen looked back, his expression innocent. Yu Xiu lowered his head. “Just a hypothesis. Understood.”

The Ancestral Hall was a secluded temple at the very back of the grounds, surrounded by green trees and silence. In the afternoon, Jiang Shen entered alone, dressed in plain white.

The hall was simple: tablets of past emperors in the main hall, three prayer mats, and side rooms for rest. As the doors closed, Jiang Shen stood before the tablets. Though he didn’t believe in gods, he respected the dead. He lit incense, knelt, and bowed three times.

Then, he sat at a desk. Fasting involved more than just staying inside; he had to hand-copy scriptures to show his devotion. These would be sent back to the capital for the public to see. He ground the ink and began to write, his calligraphy elegant and sharp.

He had just finished two pages when there was a knock at the door.

Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock.

The movement was light but clear in the empty hall. Jiang Shen’s pen paused. He knew who it was. His weary expression was instantly replaced by one of keen interest. Even he didn’t notice the smile surfacing in his eyes.

Yet, he didn’t get up. He continued writing, sitting even straighter as if he hadn’t heard. The knocking continued rhythmically. Usually, a person would give up, but the visitor was stubborn. If he didn’t open the door, the noise might eventually alert the managers outside.

With a sigh, he got up and opened the door just a crack. The youth leaning against it lost his balance and let out an “Ouch,” nearly falling in.

Jiang Shen caught him. The youth was slender, but soft to the touch. Having stood in the sun, he smelled warm and fresh like greenery. Jiang Shen liked the feeling and didn’t immediately let go, though he put on a stern face. “Why are you here?”

Li Ruan was much more frank. He buried his head in Jiang Shen’s chest, took a satisfied sniff of his scent, and said, “I came to find you.” His voice was soft.

Jiang Shen thought the youth really acted like a clingy little animal that couldn’t bear to be away from its owner for a second. He suppressed a smile and led him inside, closing the door.

“So this is the Ancestral Hall,” Li Ruan said, looking around. “It looks boring. Are you going to be locked in here for three days?”

“These are the ancestral tablets of the imperial family,” Jiang Shen warned. “Aren’t you afraid of offending the spirits with such talk?”

“They’ve long since reincarnated; they won’t hear,” Li Ruan said nonchalantly. “And if they became immortals, they wouldn’t care about mortal affairs. Once you’re free from the cycle, who would want to come back?”

Jiang Shen was stunned. The youth looked young and even a bit silly, yet he had such a transparent perspective. Jiang Shen turned back to his desk. “So you just broke the rules and came here? Don’t you know no outsiders are allowed during the Prince’s fasting?”

Li Ruan bit his lip guiltily. “I… I didn’t know.” He did know—he’d heard about it while searching for Jiang Shen as a fox. But three days was too long. He didn’t want to be apart that long.

“Now that you know, why aren’t you leaving?” Jiang Shen teased.

Li Ruan didn’t leave; instead, he edged closer to Jiang Shen. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m so hungry.” He looked at Jiang Shen piteously. “I’m carrying your cub; I can’t go hungry. How can you ignore me?”

Jiang Shen’s hand jerked, leaving a blot of ink on the paper. For some reason, this youth was convinced he was pregnant. Jiang Shen gave up arguing about biology. He tossed the ruined page aside. “I had people send food to you. Did you not see it?”

Li Ruan blinked. So those were for him. Even if Jiang Shen didn’t remember him, he still worried he’d be hungry. Li Ruan beamed. “I didn’t see them. I came straight to find you when I woke up.”

Little liar. Jiang Shen suppressed a smile. An unskillful little liar at that. “That’s unfortunate. I’m fasting. Food is only delivered twice a day. If you wait here… you’ll have to wait another two hours.”

“Oh…” Li Ruan looked sympathetic. “Being a Prince is so pitiful. No wonder you didn’t want to come back before.”

Jiang Shen: “?”

“I’ll just be hungry with you then. It’s okay,” Li Ruan said seriously.

Jiang Shen was speechless. He stopped pretending to write and looked at the youth. “Since you’re staying, shall we continue what we didn’t finish last night?”

Li Ruan’s expression became evasive again, but knowing he couldn’t hide, he resolved himself. “Ask whatever you want.”

If Jiang Shen had 70% doubt last night, it was now mostly gone. This youth couldn’t hide his emotions; joy, sadness, truth, or lies were written plainly on his face. But that didn’t mean everything he said was true.

“You’re the one who wants me to trust you,” Jiang Shen said. “Since you came all this way, you should have evidence.”

“Evidence…” Li Ruan scratched his hair. He hadn’t brought anything Jiang Shen left behind. And since Jiang Shen had no memory, telling stories about the past might not help. What else…

“I know!” Li Ruan looked up. “I have evidence. You used to tell me stories about the court. I remember some.”

Jiang Shen had told him secrets that even ministers didn’t know. Although Li Ruan had listened to them as simple stories, he managed to recount a few deep memories. Jiang Shen’s expression changed.

“…And that time you caught the Governor of Huguang,” Li Ruan continued. “You had a subordinate dress as you to lure him out. You said he was a pawn sent to test you, with only two choices: tell you the truth of the assassination or try to kill you. He chose the latter. Also, that secret letter you burned—”

Li Ruan stopped. He’d retrieved that letter with magic. He couldn’t mention that.

“What about the letter?” Jiang Shen asked.

“The… letter… I don’t remember the rest.”

Lying again. Jiang Shen let out a soft breath. Because Li Ruan’s memory was a bit fuzzy and he hadn’t fully understood the politics at the time, his account was a bit jumbled. But he got many things right—things only Jiang Shen knew.

“When I told you these things, did I not tell you to keep them secret?” Jiang Shen asked.

“You did,” Li Ruan said. “You said they were top secret and people could be killed for knowing them. But you wanted evidence, so I had to tell you. Besides, you aren’t an ‘outsider’ anyway.”

Jiang Shen was silent. He couldn’t refute that. “What about the letter?” In his memory, he had burned the fake letter that lured him to the capital. Yet the youth mentioned it. Was there a hidden detail he’d forgotten?

Li Ruan went silent. Finally, he whispered, “Can you please stop asking? I have some things I can’t tell you yet, but I don’t want to lie to you. Can we just… not talk about that?” He grabbed Jiang Shen’s sleeve. “I’ve told you everything I can. Just believe me, okay? I really just wanted to find you…”

Jiang Shen’s heart stirred. The evidence was enough. He had a vast network of spies, yet some things only he and the youth seemed to know. If he had once shared such secrets, he must have trusted this person completely. It felt cruel to force him to prove himself now.

“What… is your name?” Jiang Shen asked.

“Li Ruan,” he replied. “But you used to call me ‘Little Fox.'”

“Little Fox?” Jiang Shen remembered the jade pendant. “So you sent me that pendant?”

“The pendant?” Li Ruan realized. “Oh, right! I gave you one made of peach blos—” He paused. “It’s pink, carved like a fox, right? You wouldn’t let me leave the day you went back to the capital until I made it for you.”

“…You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

“Of course not,” Jiang Shen said quickly. “I left it in the capital. I wanted to find its owner… I would never throw it away.”

Li Ruan blinked. “You were looking for me?”

“Mm.”

The youth sat by the desk, chin in his hands, eyes shining with a light rarely seen in others. Hearing that, he smiled happily. “Well, you’ve found me now.”

Li Ruan felt the sparrow was right. He shouldn’t have underestimated mortals. They had left so many traces; even if he hadn’t come, Jiang Shen would have found his way back to Changming Mountain eventually.

With the interrogation over, Li Ruan relaxed. But as he relaxed, his stomach growled louder.

Gurgle…

In the silent hall, the sound was distinct. Jiang Shen stopped his pen and looked back. The youth was curled up on the soft mat behind him, eyes closed. Half an hour ago, he had insisted on staying to help Jiang Shen with the ink and water, but he hadn’t lasted long before drifting off.

Gurgle…

Jiang Shen heard it clearly this time. Even in his dreams, the youth’s stomach was protesting. He really was hungry. Jiang Shen put down his pen, checked the time, and pushed open the hall doors.

He walked through the courtyards until he reached the outer wall. “Your Highness!” the manager hurried forward. “You shouldn’t be out here during fasting!”

“I’m hungry,” Jiang Shen interrupted. “Get me some food.”

“But the rules…”

Jiang Shen glanced at him coldly.

“Yes, of course,” the manager changed his tune. “It’s nearly dinner time. I’ll prepare it immediately.”

“Make sure there’s plenty of variety,” Jiang Shen instructed. “I’m very hungry.”

He returned to the hall. The youth was still sleeping soundly. Dinner would arrive soon; he couldn’t let anyone see the “little fellow” here.

Jiang Shen sat beside the youth and looked down. Up close, his face was exquisitely beautiful, without a single flaw. Jiang Shen reached out and brushed a finger against his cheek.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispered. “Did you seduce me?”

He couldn’t imagine what else could have made his former self lose all caution and share every secret with this stranger.

“I wanted to seduce you,” Li Ruan murmured, opening his eyes dizzily. He wasn’t fully awake, but he answered anyway. “But I couldn’t seem to do it.”

Jiang Shen laughed. “This doesn’t look like you failed.” If the youth was right, the Jiang Shen of a few months ago must have had his soul stolen.

Li Ruan was still tired and didn’t want to move. “Maybe I did later, I don’t know. But… I know something else.”

“What?”

Li Ruan smiled at him, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “You’re leaning so close. Do you… want to kiss me?”

Every time Jiang Shen had wanted to kiss him before, he looked exactly like this.

Exactly the same.