Yourong - Chapter 2

The three cubs lined up outside the window and pushed the window paper open with their heads, their eyes bright with curiosity.

My eldest even produced paper and brush from his satchel and started drawing on the spot. His style was wildly expressive; you couldn’t make out a human figure in it. He insisted it was only a hobby and he wasn’t taking commissions yet. Someday, though, he hoped to become the foremost illustrator of erotic art.

I clawed at Gu Fengchun’s broad back and cried, “Think of the children! The *children*!”

Yes, I had raised three cubs alone. Yes, I was mature, steady, beautiful, and reserved. But deep down I was still an innocent maiden. Doing *that* in front of an audience was beyond me!

Gu Fengchun pinned my arms. “You’re still trying to trick me? I don’t care what you say. I’m not stopping. They’re fast asleep—”

In desperation, I turned his head toward the window.

What followed was a gloriously thorough bout of eye contact. The three cubs grinned with complete confidence. “Hi!”

Gu Fengchun: “…”

My gaze drifted downward. I opened my mouth, then thought better of it.

Gu Fengchun took it hard. He sat at the edge of the bed with his face buried in his hands. I straightened my clothes and patted his shoulder. After a moment’s thought, I offered some comfort.

“Well, life goes on. You open your eyes, you close them, and before you know it, it’s over. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”

At the window, I stroked each cub’s head and retrieved my money pouch from my daughter’s neck. I cleared my throat, and all three nodded knowingly. Giving them to Gu Fengchun had only ever been a stopgap. Once he finished hunting the vicious demon in Myriad Demon City, they would come back to me.

We performed a tearful little mother-and-children farewell. I was just about to leave when something tightened sharply around my neck. A chain ran from my throat to Gu Fengchun’s palm. His head was bowed, his long hair hiding half his face. The black eye I could see fixed on me so fiercely that my skin prickled.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Huh? Hell, this was some strange kind of role-play. The proud, blushing, quick-tempered young priest of ten years ago had turned dark inside and out!

We fox spirits survive by knowing when to yield. I smeared tears all over my face, shuffled back to Gu Fengchun, and dutifully started tying up his hair.

“Husband, darling, are you hungry? I’ll make you a bowl of noodles. No scallions, right? Oh, you’re still such a picky eater. You naughty thing.”

My name is Hu Yourong. I practice medicine for a living and perform on the side. A minor detail: I’m a menace in the kitchen.

I dragged along my second son, who actually knew how to cook, and hurried into the kitchen. He ran a paw over the spotless stove, searched the empty cupboards, and looked up at me miserably.

“Mother! Even a clever fox can’t cook a meal without rice. I can’t do it. I really can’t.”

At last, in a fit of indignation, he jumped into the pot to make stewed fox out of himself. My eldest, always eager to watch the world burn, tossed firewood into the stove and set about lighting his morning’s masterpiece. My second son did a tap dance around the hot pot.

My daughter tugged my sleeve and wiped drool from her mouth. “Slurp… Mother, I promise I won’t let Second Brother’s sacrifice go to waste.”

In the end I dug some wheat seeds out of my pocket and went to the trouble of planting and harvesting a fresh crop. The finest food, after all, is often made in the simplest way.

Two days later, I gazed at the bowl of plain noodle soup before me and was thoroughly won over. Who invented these plain noodles? I wondered between mouthfuls. They were surprisingly delicious.

Two of my children ate until they were ready to burst. Rubbing their round bellies, they declared that they wanted to be reborn as wheat, then closed their little eyes and fell asleep.

I carried a bowl to Gu Fengchun. I had no idea where he’d been messing around these past two days. He smelled of face powder, and he’d taken a knife wound to the shoulder. With one hand, he wrapped a bandage around himself in front of me. For some reason, it felt as though he was deliberately trying to seduce me. No decent man would pause to look up three times while bandaging himself, bite his lower lip, and let out little moans.

I lifted some noodles to his mouth. “Here comes a little noodle.”

He looked at me. “Did you poison it?”

“Of course not. Just a little laxative,” I answered before I could stop myself.

I came to my senses and scrambled to explain. “Medicine to relieve the fatigue in your whole body and restore you to health. Ha ha. You know I’m only looking after my husband.”

…

“A gentleman uses his words, not his fists! Husband, darling, Fengchun! Gu Fengchun, stop!”