The Great King Ordered Me to Marry – Chapter 1
by Little PandaOf the Little White Fox Who Stole Chickens
Qiufeng Ridge was treacherous, its mountains thick with poison miasma, purple haze spreading everywhere.
Ancient trees grew in dense clusters, wild grass waist-high. No mortal or common beast dared enter—those who did lost all sense of direction.
“Where’s that little beast run off to!” a voice roared in anger.
“If I don’t catch it today, I’m not going back!” It was clearly a different person.
In the distance, a snow-white fox leaped up, a chicken clamped in its jaws, and dashed into the poison miasma. It moved with easy grace, showing not a trace of fear.
Several mortals carrying curved blades and bows followed the sound, then stopped short, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and fury.
“We can’t go into that miasma. Even if we don’t die, we’ll lose half our lives. That fox is probably dead already!”
Another man ground his teeth. “At least it got an easy death. If I’d gotten my hands on it, I’d have pulled its sinews and skinned it alive!”
“Enough, enough,” a third urged. “We can raise more chickens. If we chase any further, we’ll lose our own lives.”
“It’s not just one chicken—it’s the whole town’s chickens… Ai!”
But no mortal dared trespass into Qiufeng Ridge. They exchanged glances and turned back, cowed. The chickens were gone—so be it. They couldn’t lose their lives.
The chickens were gone—all of them. Without exception, they had ended up in that fox’s belly.
The white fox bounded along merrily, as if bathing in the poison mist. There was no sign of it turning into bones—in fact, its steps grew lighter and quicker.
It crouched in the grass, its furry ears twitching, listening to its surroundings. Before long, it had finished the chicken.
And when you looked again, there wasn’t a trace of blood on its mouth. Whether it had wiped itself clean with grass or licked itself spotless, it was as if this fox had never stolen a chicken at all.
Just then, a great howl rose from deep within the mountain. It wasn’t the roar of a beast—it was the sound of the forest swaying, a startling noise.
Hearing it, the white fox shook itself and transformed into a young girl. As she ran, a jingling sound rang out.
Only then could one see that around each of her ankles were three loops of red cord, each loop strung with a silver bell. The bells chimed with every step.
Her long hair had been loose, but as she ran, the mountain wind swept past like a pair of gentle hands, lightly gathering it up for her.
The gathered hair rose like fox ears, held in place by a pom-pom hairpin. Two braids behind her ears bobbed up and down, as anxious as she was.
The sound of the pine forest grew louder, like great waves crashing in her ears, as if urging the fox to hurry home. The dense old trees around her swayed back and forth, nearly bending double.
These were no longer trees—they were hands waving back and forth.
Oh no, Auntie Lan had found out. She had to get back quickly!
The white fox darted through the woods, then leaped down through a gap in the rocks. Her body floated like a falling petal, landing lightly on the water’s surface.
Fortunately, she didn’t fall in—she landed on a small boat. The boat moved on its own, without oars or wind.
The white fox was frantic, wishing the boat would go faster. She rolled up her sleeves, bent down, and began paddling with her hands, soaking her sleeves completely.
The boat crossed a black pool, and then—a hidden paradise. At the far end was a space a hundred zhang1 high, with dwellings and a water wheel. Carmine-colored flower trees stood against the rocks.
A dignified woman in dark robes sat on a stone bench by the shore. Her hair was coiled immaculately, her expression as serene as an orchid, like a banished immortal who had left the world behind.
Yet at the foot of the stone bench lay a group of small demons sleeping peacefully—flower squirrels, fawns, rabbits, birds—all of them, filling the place with a thick aura of demonic energy.
Immortals and demons are irreconcilably opposed2—how could this woman be an immortal?
The white fox dawdled off the boat without offering a greeting. She had already figured out how she was going to get beaten. She sidled up to the woman and said cheerfully, “Auntie Lan, why are you waiting for me here? It’s chilly today—don’t catch cold.”
The girl the fox had transformed into was as beautiful as could be. When she acted coy, she was like a spring flower in full bloom, delicate and dazzling.
“How many times have I told you? You are not to leave Qiufeng Ridge without permission!” Lan Hui said coldly, not even glancing at the fox’s fresh, pretty face.
“If anyone left, it wouldn’t be me. Qiufeng Ridge is the water, and I’m the fish in it.” The white fox’s eyes darted away.
When the fox’s amber eyes were wide open, there was no trace of flattery—only a lively, mischievous sparkle.
Especially the small mole under her left eye, which added an air of melancholy. Fortunately, there was no sadness on her face—only the guilt of a thief.
“Then why did I sense mortals following you toward Qiufeng Ridge?” Lan Hui sat upright, each word carrying weight.
“Their legs are on their own bodies—how would I know?” The white fox lay down on Lan Hui’s lap, looking up with an innocent expression.
“Zhuoxue!” Lan Hui snapped.
Oh no.
Zhuoxue’s expression changed. She didn’t dare keep up her playful act. After a long pause, she stammered, “I came back safe and sound, didn’t I? Besides, everyone in the town below is mortal. What mortal can do anything to me?”
“What did you go down the mountain for?” Lan Hui finally looked at her.
Zhuoxue didn’t answer. She lowered her eyes and licked her lips. The sweet fragrance still lingered between her teeth.
All the small demons sleeping at Lan Hui’s feet woke up. They had no intention of sharing Lan Hui’s anger on the fox’s behalf, and began chattering away.
“Mountain Lord, she must have gone down to steal chickens again!”
“She never learns! If word gets out, other demons will think Qiufeng Ridge mistreats her and doesn’t give her meat!”
“It’s definitely chicken theft—just look at the way she’s licking her lips!”
“Is there a single day she doesn’t steal chickens? If mortals could get in here, Qiufeng Ridge would have been razed to the ground long ago!”
Every single one of them was pushing the fox into the fire.
“How many chickens have you stolen from mortals this past month?” Lan Hui rotated her wrist, and a disciplinary ruler appeared in her hand.
The fox knew she was in trouble. She quickly crouched down, covering her head with her hands, and let out feigned whimpers. Before the ruler had even fallen, she was already crying, mumbling, “Please, Your Honor, see clearly—this humble one never stole any chickens!”
“Learning all sorts of nonsense from the mortal world again, talking in circles!” Lan Hui was long used to this and had no pity left. She stood up and swung the ruler hard, striking the fox across the back.
The small demons fell silent and scattered without looking back.
With each strike of the ruler, silver light flared. The pain was not in the skin or flesh—it was in the heart.
“It hurts, Auntie Lan, it hurts so much!” Zhuoxue trembled, her heart feeling as if it were being squeezed, the pain stealing her breath. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears. “You are a generous and magnanimous person—please, have mercy and let this little one plead her case!”
Lan Hui continued, “Swindling, stealing, every kind of wickedness—what have I taught you all these years? In the end, you’ve forgotten everything!”
The girl, still in human form, curled into a ball at her feet, trembling so hard that the silver bells on her ankles jingled without pause.
One strike of the ruler, then another.
“You’ve eaten every chicken on Qiufeng Ridge, and now you’re not even sparing the ones down the mountain. Do you know that some of those fowl, if they cultivated for another hundred years, might develop spiritual intelligence3?” Lan Hui stopped and grabbed Zhuoxue by the shoulder, turning her over.
Zhuoxue was still curled up. The hands covering her face were suddenly pulled away, forcing her to meet Lan Hui’s eyes.
Her hair was tangled messily around her face, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. The corners of her eyes were as red as if she’d applied half a pot of rouge. Perhaps because she’d bitten her lip, the corner of her mouth was unusually red.
“Did you hear me?” Lan Hui raised her hand.
Zhuoxue’s pupils contracted. Terrified that the ruler would strike her face, she jerked her head away.
The ruler did not fall. Lan Hui rotated her wrist, and the object in her hand vanished without a trace.
Zhuoxue, eyes still red, turned her head to look at her and hesitantly shook her head once.
Her ears had never worked well since birth. It was common for her to miss four or five words in a sentence, and she had to fill in the gaps herself.
Fortunately, if the voice was loud enough, she could hear clearly.
But even when she did hear clearly, she pretended not to understand. If she couldn’t hear, it saved a lot of trouble.
Not listening, not listening—can’t hear.
Lan Hui’s expression showed the frustration of a teacher whose student refused to learn, but she truly didn’t want to repeat herself. She said coldly, “Whose chicken did you steal today? I’ll have Lishu go repay the debt.”
“How can you call it stealing? I dropped a string of copper coins4 in their yard earlier,” Zhuoxue said quietly. “Heaven doesn’t drop pies from the sky5. Since they picked them up, the chicken is mine.”
“And now you can hear clearly?” Lan Hui produced the ruler again.
Oh dear, why was she angry again?
The fox hastily transformed back into her original form, a fluffy ball curled up by Lan Hui’s legs, her ears twitching slightly. She was truly pitiful and beautiful.
Lan Hui simply sat down, gazing at the water without a word.
The fox curled there for a long time, but no further punishment came. That made her even more anxious.
She cautiously lifted her head and studied Lan Hui. “Auntie Lan, are you angry?”
Lan Hui sighed. “The dangers out there are beyond what you can imagine. I keep you shut up in Qiufeng Ridge all day—it’s not because I want to mistreat you.”
The fox’s tail swished, her eyes bright. “I’ve gone out so many times and never encountered any danger. The outside world isn’t as bad as you think, Auntie Lan. One of these days, I’ll take you out for a walk, and then you’ll feel at ease!”
Reform? No—she wanted Lan Hui to reform!
Lan Hui’s eyes darkened. Her thoughts were an invisible undercurrent, surging violently beneath her chest.
“I’ve never once seen you step out of Qiufeng Ridge. You think the outside world is too terrible!” The fox’s thoughts grew wilder, and she even tried to convince Lan Hui.
Never once?
Yes, never once. In all these years, Lan Hui had never even glimpsed daylight.
Lan Hui looked at the fox by her legs. Through that fluffy white bundle, she seemed to see the passage of time.
“Times have changed, things are different now. No matter how much I say, it’s not as good as you going out to see for yourself, Auntie Lan.” The fox’s mental abacus was clicking loudly6.
Lan Hui was silent for a long time—so long it felt like the sky might age and the earth grow old.
The fox’s heart was in her throat.
Lan Hui looked up at the rocks. Their outlines were indistinct in the darkness, and her vision blurred along with them.
“When I found you, you were still in swaddling clothes. Now you’ve been at Qiufeng Ridge for eighteen years. Perhaps… I have been overthinking.”
“Exactly!”
Lan Hui changed the subject. “You absolutely must not steal chickens anymore. Since you don’t like staying at Qiufeng Ridge, perhaps you should go to Ninghong Mountain.”
This time, Zhuoxue truly hadn’t heard clearly. She murmured, “What mountain? Lingkong Mountain?”
Lan Hui was tired of talking. Ninghong Mountain was in the east, Lingkong Mountain in the north. One was home to mortal monks who ate vegetarian and chanted sutras all day; the other was home to demons.
And not just any demon—a great demon7.
The fox jolted, then wound herself around the woman’s legs like a cat, speaking human words in a muffled voice.
“Auntie Lan, Zhuoxue knows she was wrong. You’re not really going to abandon me, are you?”
“I heard that the Great King of Cangqiong Mountain Realm is on Lingkong Mountain. That White Tiger is cruel and lawless, immensely powerful, with an appetite to rival the Taotie8—it eats people without spitting out the bones!”
“If it wants to eat me, what will I do?”
“When you eat chicken, where do you spit the bones?” Lan Hui asked.
Footnotes
- A traditional Chinese unit of length, approximately 3.3 meters.
- A common saying in Chinese mythology: immortals and demons are natural enemies and cannot coexist.
- A term in cultivation mythology referring to the awakening of sentience and intelligence in non-human beings through spiritual practice.
- Standard Chinese copper coinage, round with a square hole, strung on cords.
- A Chinese idiom meaning 'nothing comes for free' or 'no such thing as a free lunch.'
- A Chinese idiom meaning 'scheming openly' or 'calculating loudly,' implying someone is making no secret of their intentions.
- A high-level demon classification in Chinese mythology, indicating a powerful and ancient demon.
- A mythical Chinese creature known for its insatiable appetite, often depicted on ancient bronzes.
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