Living with a Fox

On that snowy winter night eighteen years ago, my grandfather committed an unforgivable mistake deep in the dense forest of the mountain. When the smoke from the shotgun dissipated, the pool of blue fluorescent blood on the snow made all the hunters change their expressions - that was the fox fairy who had been practicing for thousands of years showing his true form. From then on, our family fell into eternal night. Every new moon night, there would always be the sound of scratching claws on the beams of the old house, accompanied by sobs that sounded like crying and laughing. When I was sweeping the tomb during the Qingming Festival this year, I found that my grandfather's tombstone was covered with fine claw marks. That night, I dreamed of nine snow-white tails emerging from under the altar table in the ancestral hall, wrapping around my ankles and dragging them underground. The next morning, there was a yellowed marriage certificate beside my pillow, with my birthday and birth date written in cinnabar, and a plum blossom-shaped paw print at the signature. There was no joy on the wedding night, only paper figures carrying a scarlet sedan stopped at the gate of the courtyard. The moment the sedan curtain opened, I smelled a strange smell mixed with sandalwood and carrion. Under the hijab, the groom's fingers were pale and slender, but his nails were a strange bluish-black color. When he chuckled in my ear, I clearly heard the overlapping neighing of beasts. Now there is a strange statue of a fox-headed god in my hall, and the incense burner is burning rhinoceros horn incense mixed with ashes. Whenever I help others, I feel a cold feeling on the back of my neck, as if something invisible is lying on my back and blowing air into my ears. The most terrifying thing is that I can gradually taste the different smells of blood in the incense ash - those are the humans who have hurt the fox tribe...