The fact that I'm a fox has always struck me as a bit unoriginal.

  From ancient times to today, whether it′s novels, anime, legends, or movies, foxes are everywhere—vilge foxes, fox spirits, fox gods; every type you can think of. Even as an insult, "fox spirit" has been around for centuries and still won't go out of style.

  As a self-procimed unique, trendsetting, and stylishly handsome fox, I hate this oversaturation. Rarity is value, and when foxes are everywhere, we lose our worth.

  Fortunately, while there may be many foxes, only a few people have ever seen foxes like us who can cultivate a human form. As long as we still have that aura of mystery and that mythical essence, I can find some comfort.

  But apart from occasionally feeling down about the oversupply of foxes, my biggest frustration is with a country bumpkin named Tang Xiaohua.

  Think about it. In a new century crowded with trendsetters, in a city pulsing with modern style, there′s actually someone out there named "Xiaohua" ("Little Flower")! Isn't that just tragic? And what is even more tragic than the tragedy is that this fox is the guardian spirit of this Tang Xiaohua!

  Ah, such is the fate of being an extraordinary fox—you can't escape it. Just because we have a few more skills than our ordinary kin, like summoning clouds, walking through walls, or becoming invisible, we’re destined to take on responsibilities that other foxes never have to bear.

  I′ve always had a hazy understanding of myself, not quite sure what level of fox I belong to. But whatever spells foxes know, I know them all. I remember when I crawled out of that pitch-dark fox den; my mind felt like it had a built-in GPS. I went straight to the city′s maternal and child hospital, slipping through twelve walls on the way. Finally, I stumbled into the delivery room, where I looked up and saw a nurse holding a wrinkly newborn girl who looked a bit like an old dy.

  But that little Tang Xiaohua didn′t make a sound. No matter how many times the doctor tried to make her cry, she remained defiant, refusing to shed a single tear.

  Just when everyone thought the child might have something blocking her airway, I stepped forward and gave her a sp on the little butt.

  With a loud wail, Tang Xiaohua won the year's award for the loudest baby cry. Then, I noticed that no matter where I stood, her eyes would always turn right to where I was, and she'd giggle.

  This girl could see me! From the moment she was born, she could see me! This was bizarre. According to our fox customs, humans are never supposed to be able to see us unless we brush our tails across their eyes.

  I started to wonder who on earth had assigned me to be the guardian spirit of this little oddball. Unfortunately, ever since I left the fox den, I discovered I couldn’t find my way back, and any memories of my life in the den have quickly faded, like soap bubbles popping in my mind.

  I suspect this is all part of a spell cast to keep me focused on my guardian mission. By the terms of our pact, I must watch over Tang Xiaohua until she reaches the end of her life. And in the long, boring years ahead, the best way to keep me from sneaking back to my den for a nap is to make sure I can't find my way home. Ruthless!

  Although my memories have been blurred, someone has occasionally been communicating with me in a way simir to the fox cn's telepathic method, sending certain instructions. I tried using reverse search techniques to track down this mysterious figure and demand to know why they stuck me with a little oddball like Tang Xiaohua instead of a beautiful, normal princess born with a silver spoon. But every time I fail, whoever assigned me to Tang Xiaohua is definitely an old fox of great skill. With just a formless voice to go on, I can't locate him at all.

  Resigned, I had no choice but to awkwardly stay by Tang Xiaohua's side. I know that until I complete my mission, I can't return to my cozy fox den. I truly am a fox with a strong sense of home.

  And just like that, seventeen years have passed.