Nine Tails - Chapter 3

Before bed, I performed my usual mirror inspection.

I studied the three fox tails in the reflection and heaved a sigh.

Growing tails was hard.

As the name suggested, a nine-tailed fox ought to have nine tails.

But we weren’t born with all nine. We had to do good deeds, little by little. Only after enough had accumulated would another tail grow.

I’d worked diligently for well over a decade and grown exactly one. Add the tail I’d been born with and the one Mom had given me by transferring some of her magic when I got into university…

Three. That was all.

The more tails you had, the harder it became to gain another. On the other hand, more tails meant more magic.

There was another reason nine-tailed foxes were so rare and precious among our kind: our tails could grant wishes.

Legend had it that several hundred years ago, one of us had gained all nine and ascended to become a fox immortal, capable even of bringing back the dead and restoring flesh to bare bones.

An achievement of that difficulty was strictly fantasy material for me.

Better to study hard and do good deeds in my spare time. Once I got into graduate school, Mom would give me another tail.

After graduating, I’d take the civil service exam and become a servant of the people. Surely I’d be raking in merit every day.

Earn money. Grow tails. Win-win.

Someone else could be the first fox immortal. I’d be the first fox with a graduate degree.

First was first. That counted as bringing honor to my ancestors too.

And so I curled up with my three tails for another wonderful night’s sleep.

Halloween fell on a Friday that year. Saturday was my usual volunteer day at the zoo.

There wasn’t too much to do. Top up the animals’ water, feed them hay, that sort of thing.

Make announcements for children who couldn’t find their mothers.

Retrieve bags monkeys had snatched from inexperienced visitors.

Tell tourists not to feed the black bears while telling the bears not to dance for human food.

Summer was busier. Not many people came in winter, so I only had to do the first part: take care of the animals.

Apparently, couples preferred somewhere warm in winter, where they could play some hot and thrilling games.

Like murder-mystery role-playing games.

I bundled myself into layer after layer. As soon as I reached the zoo, Sister Du called me over for breakfast.

Eggs and soy milk.

“I’ll get you some hay in a minute. We’ve just brought in a batch of little wild rabbits. I thought girls your age would like them.”

Crouching with the hay, I watched the little rabbits huddled together a short distance away.

Oh, I liked them, all right.

I tried laying some hay beside me. Not a single rabbit dared come close.

Their little eyes were full of fear. They looked delicious…

“Hu Ke.” Someone appeared beside me. “You’re about to start drooling.”

I turned. Fu Junsheng was crouching next to me, looking small himself.

Was it my imagination, or had the rabbits started trembling?

“What are you doing here?” I asked as we walked side by side from the rabbit enclosure toward the giraffes.

He lowered his head slightly. “Your roommate said I’d find you here on Saturdays.”

That was even stranger. “Why were you looking for me?”

We were practically strangers. We’d only met yesterday.

“To have lunch.” He looked perfectly matter-of-fact. “Other people’s tastes never match mine. A place just opened behind the zoo. They serve rabbit. Want to try it?”

Fair point. Humans liked their meals to have a balance of meat and vegetables. Picking out all the meat when you were sharing with someone wasn’t terribly polite.

“Wait until I’ve fed the giraffes.” It took me half a second to decide. Who could say no to a delicious bunny?

I carried the hay inside while Fu Junsheng waited outside.

The forecast said it would snow that evening. The sky was a hazy expanse of white.

He was wearing a black overcoat. The gray scarf around his neck looked soft and comfortable, his face as pale as an almond.

Annoyingly good-looking.

I didn’t know what was on his mind. He tipped his head back toward the sky, stretching his neck, and breathed a little cloud of white into the air.

Only when I came out and called to him did he emerge from his thoughts. His eyes filled with warmth again when he saw me, and he bent down to brush the dust off my clothes.

The movement was practiced, as if he’d done it countless times before.

Someone like him must have plenty of admirers.

I lowered my head, burying half my face in my scarf. “Let’s go.”