CHIANG, SHUN-JEN opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the interior of an abandoned house. Exposed bricks and roof tiles lined the walls. A chill crawled across his skin, and dizziness overtook him. His clothes were damp—he couldn’t tell whether it was from last night’s rain or his own sweat. Right in front of him, lying on the ground, was LI, SHIH-LIANG, eyes closed tightly.

  CHIANG tried to sit up. The moment he did, vertigo nearly sent him tumbling again. He steadied himself, opened his satchel, and took out a few mantou buns he had purchased back in Jining. Before coming north, mantou had been a rare food for him. He wondered if LI felt the same.

  That idle thought stirred the memory of the things he had said the night before—cruel words, spoken in frustration. Guilt knotted in his chest. He was just a regular man, and yet he had demanded they report everything to the authorities, ignoring LI’s fears—ignoring the very real risk of exposure, of being treated as an inhuman freak, of being accused of murder.

  He shook his head. That thought—of cutting ties, of staying away to avoid using LI for his own sense of righteousness—returned again. Maybe that would be best. But right now, his head throbbed too hard to decide anything. First, he would wake LI and offer him some mantou.

  LI opened his eyes to find CHIANG swaying on his feet, face flushed. He held out a mantou and said, “Eat this quickly. We need to talk.”

  The two of them sat cross-legged across from each other, chewing on their buns in silence, until CHIANG finally spoke.

  “I think… it’s better we go our separate ways,” he said. “I’m sorry for what I said to you last night… cough... I need to reach the capital in time for the exam. And you… cough... you should return to your hometown. Our paths were never the same to begin with.”

  “I’m not going back,” LI replied calmly. “What those foxes said last night—they were right. I don’t even know the way back. Not by myself. I think I’ll go to the capital too, see if I can make a living there.”

  “And I’m not leaving you,” LI continued. “I’ve caused you enough trouble already. I need to repay that debt. Besides, I’m not going to abandon you now, not when you’re sick!”

  “I’m fine,” CHIANG murmured. “Just a minor illness… I can still…”

  Before he could finish, a wave of nausea hit him. He lay down on his side, too weak to resist it.

  “Take off your wet clothes first,” LI said. “I’ll wrap them in a blanket to dry.”

  CHIANG nodded faintly. But his limbs didn’t cooperate. Seeing this, LI helped him undress, carefully pulling off the damp fabric and covering him with a thick indigo cotton quilt. It reminded LI of the day they first met. Back then too, CHIANG had looked so fragile.

  “I’ll go find some water,” LI said softly.

  LI stepped outside the abandoned house and walked along the forest path. He searched carefully, but found no source of water. He decided to keep moving. After crossing a small hill, a rural village came into view. A wave of relief washed over him.

  CHIANG was in bad shape. That damp, cold house was no place for someone to recover from an illness. If they could find shelter in this village, maybe things would be alright. LI made his way down the slope toward the settlement.

  This village was nothing like the towns of Jiangnan. It was far more modest, with plain structures and narrow lanes. The largest building in sight appeared to be a traditional courtyard house—likely the residence of the local gentry.

  As he entered the village, the locals stared at him with strange, wary eyes.

  Something’s wrong.

  A pungent scent drifted through the air—foxes. More than one. From the subtle differences in the scent, LI realized the place was swarming with fox spirits.

  He froze.

  So this was how it ended. His traveling companion was sick. Supplies were low. They’d fled Jining in the night to escape the Luoyang guild, only to stumble into a den of foxes. What was he supposed to do now?

  A hand clapped down on his shoulder.

  “You’re not human, are you?” a voice said behind him. “You smell different. But you’re not one of us either. What exactly are you—and what are you doing here?”

  LI slapped the hand away and stepped back instinctively. He was discovered. Should he fight? But they were outnumbered, and CHIANG was still back in the woods. Even if he escaped, where would he go? Was there any place in this world that would accept him?

  His heart sank. Exhaustion crept in—not just in his body, but in his soul. He was so tired of running.

  LI stood his ground. Fur tore through his skin. His skull cracked and shifted into a lupine shape. Fully transformed, fangs bared, he growled:

  “I’m the werewolf you bastards have been hunting! If you want to kill me, then come on!”

  The man stepped back in alarm. His body twisted and shifted into the form of a fox. He raised his hands cautiously.

  “Hold on. Let’s talk this through. I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”

  LI blinked. The rage on his face turned to confusion.

  “Huh?”

  Back in the abandoned house, CHIANG lay on the ground, waiting for LI to return. Just moments ago, he had insisted they part ways, yet now, all he wanted was for someone to be at his side. What a selfish thought, he realized.

  What kind of person did he want to be?

  Did he seek to pass the exams and become an official just to satisfy his family's expectations and preserve their privileges? Or was it truly for the ideal of benevolent governance—to help the people?

  All his life, he had received an education that praised virtuous men who grieved before the world grieved, who offered salvation to the suffering. But in his own village, he had never seen such virtue in his father, a scholar-official. Though his father would sometimes offer relief to needy kin, he spent most of his time away in official posts, leaving the household to be managed by servants.

  Those servants often extorted the tenant farmers on CHIANG’s family lands. Once, during the New Year, CHIANG had reported their abuses to his father. Yet nothing changed. The exploitation continued, day after day.

  He grew to resent his father. And then, he began to resent that part of himself which hated his father. He dreamt of becoming an official to change it all. But after everything he had experienced on this journey, even that dream now felt hollow.

  He sighed deeply.

  Footsteps approached. Two figures entered through the door: one tall, over six feet, with the features of a fox; the other, clearly LI in his wolf-like form.

  CHIANG stared in shock. A fox spirit?

  Before he could react, the fox spirit picked up his pack and stepped outside, while LI, still in his beastly form, walked over and gently lifted CHIANG in his arms, still wrapped in his cotton quilt.

  “Don’t worry,” LI said. “This one’s not one of Lord Zhang’s men. He’s willing to help us.”

  With CHIANG on his back and the fox spirit carrying their belongings, the trio departed the ruined house and followed the forest path. When they entered the village, the residents turned to stare at the unusual sight.

  The fox led them to a modest brick house and gestured for them to come in.

  “This is LI, CHING,” LI said. “Courtesy name CHING-I. He’s a craftsman here, and he’s agreed to let us stay for a while.”

  The fox nodded. “Yes, CHIANG, YUNG-JEN. LI told me about you earlier. As you can see, I’m a fox. But I’m not like the ones who oppose you. Honestly, I’ve only heard rumors of Lord Zhang and the Luoyang guild. No one in this village has any real connection to them.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  CHIANG, still weak, said hoarsely, “LI, CHING-I… thank you for taking us in… cough… once I recover… I’ll find a way to repay your kindness. Please accept this.”

  He reached into his pack and pulled out a silver tael.

  LI, CHING-I waved it off. “No need to be so formal. Just call me normally. Your friend agreed to help out while you’re staying here. You just focus on resting. You’re a student, aren’t you? It’d be a shame if illness kept you from the exam.”

  LI added, “By the way, YUNG-JEN, when exactly do you have to arrive for the exam? You never told me.”

  “No rush. The exam’s still a month and a half away. I set out early so I could see the sights along the way… cough,” CHIANG replied.

  “Good. Then let’s make sure you get better first,” LI said.

  LI, CHING-I brought out a dark green right-over-left robe. “It’s a bit big on you, but it should do for now.”

  “Thank you,” CHIANG said.

  “LI, CHING-I,” CHIANG asked, “won’t your appearances—yours and LI’s—frighten the villagers?”

  “Don’t worry,” CHING replied. “People here are used to seeing foxes. There are quite a few of us in the village. As for your friend, I’ve never met a beast like him before, more canine than fox… but once I explain it, I think they’ll be fine. I’ve never believed that we foxes are the only ones who live among humans while being different.”

  CHIANG was surprised by CHING’s answer. He never imagined there could be people who knew about spirits like foxes and werewolves, and still lived alongside them so peacefully. He had always thought his and LI’s relationship was a rare exception.

  Over the next few days, they stayed in the humble village. CHING hired a doctor to treat CHIANG, whose illness was diagnosed as a simple cold caused by exposure to the elements and constant travel. A few days of rest would be enough for recovery.

  CHIANG was grateful for CHING’s kindness.

  LI helped CHING daily with his handiwork. In his human form, CHING looked like a handsome young man, just a few years older than them. He was skilled in a wide range of crafts: sewing, carpentry, repairing farm tools, even working with iron. He often joked that he was like a “five-skilled dormouse,” but in truth, he was an exceptionally talented artisan. He even made tools that neither of the other two had ever seen before.

  CHING explained that while fox spirits lived hidden among the Han Chinese, they had their own ancient cultural traditions and craftsmanship, equal to that of any human artisan. His skills, he said, were passed down from other foxes.

  As days passed, CHIANG gradually regained his strength.

  One morning, he decided to take a walk outside. He dressed in his freshly washed gray silk round-collar robe and square scholar’s cap. Before heading out, he informed CHING, who—during the day—usually lived as a human.

  “I’m feeling much better now. I want to go for a walk. Where’s LI?” CHIANG asked.

  “He fell asleep in the workshop,” CHING said with a chuckle. “Seems like he worked hard today. He learns fast, though. Give him time, and he might become my best apprentice yet.”

  “LI is really amazing,” CHIANG said. “He’s helped me so much on this journey. He’s even saved my life more than once. He’s my benefactor.”

  “Exactly,” CHING smiled. “The wind’s a bit chilly today. You just recovered, so wear a jacket.”

  He handed over a leather coat.

  “Why are you being so kind to us?” CHIANG asked.

  “Because your friend lightened my workload a lot these past few days,” CHING replied. “And to be honest, when you two first arrived, you looked… pretty miserable. I’d feel guilty if I just ignored people in need.”

  CHIANG suddenly remembered the first time he met LI, the boy’s starving and ragged appearance. The memory left him thoughtful.

  He left the house and wandered through the village. Passersby glanced at him occasionally. Though the village was simple, it wasn’t dilapidated. The residents all seemed content and at peace. It felt very different from his prosperous yet complicated hometown in Minnan.

  “Hey, you there. Wait a moment,” someone called from behind.

  CHIANG turned around and saw a man dressed in a square cap and a blue cloth round-collar robe—a refined, scholarly figure.

  “I’m LI, CHUNG-CHIN, courtesy name CHUNG-I,” the man said. “I’m the local elder under the Lijia system here. And you are?”

  “I’m CHIANG, SHUN-JEN. Courtesy name YUNG-JEN. I’m currently staying at the home of the craftsman LI, CHING-I,” CHIANG replied.

  “So you’re the guest my nephew has taken in recently,” the elder said.

  CHIANG was surprised. “Yes, your nephew has been very kind to us.”

  “Would you mind visiting my home for a bit? I’d like to chat with you,” the elder said.

  CHIANG considered it, then nodded. “Sure.”

  The elder brought CHIANG to a siheyuan—a traditional Chinese courtyard house—that was clearly the largest structure in the village. He led him inside to a table near a large window. The two sat facing each other.

  “There’s only one scholar in this village,” the elder said with a smile. “Meeting a fellow reader is truly a blessing.” A servant came and placed a tea set on the table.

  CHIANG asked, “Sir LI, if I may… are you a fox spirit too?”

  The elder laughed. “No, no. I’m just an ordinary man. CHING-I’s mother was a fox spirit. You seem very familiar with the existence of such beings. Where are you from?”

  As he spoke, he poured hot tea from the pot into a pair of green porcelain lidded cups.

  “I’m from Minnan,” CHIANG replied. “I planned to visit the Temple of Confucius in Qufu, and then head to the capital to sit for the imperial exams.”

  “I see. Are there foxes in your region as well?” the elder asked.

  “No,” CHIANG said. “I only learned of their existence during this journey.”

  The elder passed one of the cups to CHIANG. “CHING-I has told me a bit about you two. I was quite surprised to hear of a werewolf, to be honest. Are you one as well?”

  “I’m just an ordinary human,” CHIANG answered. “I met my companion LI, SHIH-LIANG by chance during my travels.”

  CHIANG began sharing stories from his journey, and the elder listened with interest. At one point, a villager entered the courtyard and handed the elder a few taels of silver. CHIANG realized then that the elder was also a landlord. He noted that the rent here seemed lower than in his hometown, and that the elder received it directly, not through a steward.

  “Forgive the interruption,” said the elder. “As you’ve seen, I make my living from rent.”

  “Do you always collect rent in person?” CHIANG asked. “In my home, the landlords usually let servants handle such things.”

  “I only have one servant,” the elder replied. “Handling it myself helps me understand the village better.”

  Their conversation shifted. From what CHIANG could gather, this elder, LI, CHUNG-I, cared deeply for the community. He organized festivals, maintained a public grain storehouse, and supported education. Unfortunately, his resources were limited, so he could only help neighboring villages open academies.

  “You’re the local elder here, right?” CHIANG asked. “Couldn’t you collect a bit more during tax season?”

  LI’s expression turned solemn. “To be honest, I don’t like doing that. When I served in the county office, I disliked how the clerks often used excuses to levy extra fees. But I also understood that without such practices, the local administration wouldn’t function. The government’s funds from the central court were never enough. In the end, I resigned and came back here to live as a landlord.”

  “At least here, I can treat those around me kindly,” he added.

  CHIANG fell silent for a moment. Then, with a spark of feeling, he said, “Sir, you are truly a man of virtue. In your opinion, what does it mean to be righteous?”

  “What do you mean by that?” the elder asked.

  CHIANG took a sip of tea and gently set the lid back on the cup. His gaze drifted out the window.

  “In my hometown,” he began, “our servants always extorted the tenant farmers. My father didn’t seem to care. I didn’t want to become someone like him. But through this journey, I’ve come to realize—my acts of kindness weren’t always sincere. I was trying to prove I was good. In the end, I became someone who used the people I claimed to help, just to feel better about myself.”

  He gave a small, bitter smile.

  It wasn’t the elder across from him he resented. Nor the merchant guild that chased him. Nor even his family’s retainers or his relatives. The disgust he felt—was toward himself.

  “You hold yourself to too high a standard,” the elder said.

  “What do you mean?” CHIANG asked, turning his gaze back.

  “No one is perfect. No one comes from a perfect family. But people are, by nature, good. Just like water flows downward, people don’t harm others without reason. Even if they do, it’s not in their true nature. And from what I can see, your heart is kind.”

  “You really think so?” CHIANG said quietly.

  “The fact that you’re asking these questions proves it,” the elder said. “You’re capable of reflection. If you weren’t, you would’ve become arrogant by now. In my humble opinion, it’s not that you lack morals—it’s that you lack confidence.”

  “Try focusing on the people around you. Help them first. If you want to serve the world, start with your neighbors. I failed as an official, but here in the village, I do what I can. I don’t burden my tenants. That, at least, is within my reach.”

  The elder smiled. “Just a bit of advice from an old man with more years than wisdom.”

  CHIANG sat in silence, lost in thought.

  Why did I choose to help that wolf boy?

  Why did he choose to help me?

  Was it kindness? LI had no reason to act out of false virtue.

  Was it guilt? And if so, do I also owe him something?

  His mind spiraled into questions without answers.

  The morning sun spilled through the window, illuminating the two men drinking tea. A quiet harmony settled over the room.

  That evening, CHING was cooking soup over a fire. LI, SHIH-LIANG stood nearby, watching with eager anticipation. Soon after, CHIANG entered through the doorway.

  “Where have you been?” CHING asked. “You disappeared for so long.”

  “Your uncle pulled me aside for a long talk,” CHIANG replied.

  “Well, that sounds like him. Living each day with nothing to do,” CHING chuckled.

  Without warning, CHIANG stepped up to LI and threw his arms around him in a sudden embrace.

  LI stiffened, caught completely off guard. “Wh-what are you doing?” he asked awkwardly.

  “Thank you,” CHIANG said.

  “Thank you for never abandoning me. For putting up with my arrogance and temper.”

  LI looked bewildered. “What are you talking about? You’ve always treated me kindly. If anything, I should be thanking you—for taking me in and letting me work. Otherwise, I’d still be wandering Jiangnan, hiding from Lord Zhang’s men.”

  “You’ve made me believe that human nature can be good,” CHIANG said—and then he began to cry.

  Faced with CHIANG’s sudden outpouring of emotion, LI didn’t know what to do. He panicked.

  So… he transformed.

  “You can pet my fur,” he said. “If it’ll help you calm down.”

  CHIANG buried his face into LI’s neck, sobbing.

  LI stood there awkwardly, then let out a soft, sheepish laugh.

  CHING stirred the pot of soup and watched them silently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The warmth of the fire flickered across the room as the two clung to each other for a long while.

  That night ended in peace, with a quiet and joyful meal shared by three unlikely companions.

  The next day, after a brief discussion the night before, the two travelers decided it was time to leave.

  They would continue their journey to Qufu to visit the Temple of Confucius.

  As they bid farewell, CHING—reluctant to see them go—presented them with a peculiar vehicle for their journey.