The Fox Thief and the Eternal Lamp

My last memory was darkness—thick, endless, suffocating black.

Then came the jostling. Two servants stuffed me, limbs and all, into a burlap sack and tossed me like a sack of rice onto a cart.
At the final moment, a familiar lump wriggled in after me—Abao.

Good old Abao.
My brother in fur and misfortune.

Since I had eaten someone else’s property first, I didn’t put up much resistance.
I had a plan: once they hauled me before General Qin, I’d throw Gu Yi under the carriage wheels. Gu Yi was now the emperor’s honored guest—surely the West Han officials wouldn’t dare harm his acquaintance.

So I was quite at ease.
The cart rattled over stones, rocking me to sleep.

Two hours later, we arrived.
They dragged me out, dumped me unceremoniously into a pitch-dark cell, and slammed the door.

My head hit the wall with a crack—so much for my nap.

A guard peered at me and whistled.

“Can’t tell if I should admire your calm or mock your stupidity. Already in jail, and you can still sleep?”

Groaning, I rubbed my head.

“Why not? Even if they’re gonna chop my head off, I’d rather die well-rested.”

That shut him up for a moment. Then he muttered darkly,

“Fine, sleep then. You’ve got decades to catch up on.”

I finally looked around and realized—yes, this was a real dungeon.

And judging by the guard’s tone, my situation was not great.

Apparently, everything I’d eaten in that warehouse had been tribute—gifts meant for the Emperor himself.
Every root, every jar, every crumb of ginseng was worth a man’s life.
And I had devoured all of it.

Since General Qin was in charge of the tribute, they’d already sent a messenger galloping to summon him. He’d arrive within a few hours.

I was doomed.

If I’d only stolen from a random noble, I could’ve used Gu Yi’s name as a shield.
But now that the Emperor’s tribute was gone? Even Gu Yi’s favor might not save me.

If Qin decided not to give him face, I’d lose my head before sunset.

I paced in circles, heart pounding, until a tiny gray blur zipped past.

A mouse.

And then it hit me—Gu Yi had said, “As long as Abao is with you, I can find you.”
Did that mean Abao could contact him somehow?

I dug into my sleeve. Empty.

A quick glance around—and there he was. Abao, plump and determined, wedging his round backside into a mouse hole.

Running away.

“You little traitor!” I shouted. “We drank together, we suffered together—and now you’re leaving me to die alone?”

I lunged and grabbed his tail.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not escaping by yourself! You ate those tributes too—you’re dying with me!”

“Squeak squeak squeak!”

“I don’t care! Get back here!”

With a desperate squeal, Abao wriggled harder and slipped through, leaving me clutching two pathetic tufts of fur.

“Abao!”

Gone.

I sank to the ground, stunned for a moment—then the tears came.

“You damn rat… we shared wine just yesterday, and now you abandon me…”

The guard groaned in exasperation.

“What’s with the wailing? Everyone dies someday. You’re just going early.”

“But… but I’m not ready to die yet…”

He sighed, softening a little.

“All right, fine. You look young. How old are you anyway? I’ll make sure you get a gravestone.”

Still sniffling, I raised five fingers.

“Five? Fifteen?”

I shook my head.

“Twenty-five?”

Another shake. Then I whispered miserably,

“Five hundred.”

He froze.
Then, deciding I was mad, he left me alone.

I wasn’t lying.

Five hundred thirty-seven years, to be exact.
Among foxes, that was still considered young.

Once I’d cried myself out, reflection set in.

Five centuries of life—and what had I accomplished?
Couldn’t even phase through a wall. Couldn’t vanish into mist. Couldn’t save my own tail.

If I ever got out of here, I swore I’d actually study for once.
I’d read every book, learn every spell, and become the most terrifying demon this world had ever seen.

Eventually, exhaustion won. I slumped into the corner and closed my eyes.

The guard paced by with his oil flask, refilling lamps.

“Oh, you’re done crying? That’s better. Men shouldn’t bawl like that—shameful,” he teased.

I ignored him, wiping my face. But when I did, my fingers brushed something loose—my mask.

The human-skin disguise slipped off.

I balled it up and threw it at him.

“I’m not a man.”

He blinked, raised the lamp, squinting.

“Huh. You’re right… a woman. Hard to tell in this light.”

I turned away, focusing on the flickering flame.

The lamp’s glow warped, deepened—until I wasn’t seeing a prison wall anymore.

Two blurred silhouettes appeared in the haze, speaking softly.

“Look, is this the Eternal Lamp?”
“Yes.”
“I heard your kind—the Celestials—love lighting these things. How extravagant.”
“Hah. It’s only a lamp.”
“A lamp made from merfolk blood and bone! Their blood for oil, their bones for wicks. Every Eternal Lamp burns on the corpse of a skinned merman. Tell me—if I ever offend your kind, will you flay me too?”
“With your reckless mouth? Most likely.”

The conversation dissolved into echoing silence.

Footsteps followed. Heavy, deliberate.

A tall figure cloaked in black stepped into the cell. The guard straightened at once.

The newcomer’s voice was low and sharp as a blade.

“So. You’re the little thief who dared eat the Emperor’s tribute?”