Many years later, the little fox had grown into an old fox, dozing at her feet. Xiao Yan was released by the new emperor and went to live out his days alone in a quiet place surrounded by mountains and streams. Every so often, he would see an old woman with a wine flask, sitting by the creek in front of his house and staring into space. She would crumble peach-blossom pastries into the water and watch the fish scramble for them. He asked her, “Who are you mourning?” She smiled, her white hair fluttering in the wind. “A spring everyone has forgotten.”
