Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there once was a hero who was brave and pure of heart.

Born beneath a perfect alignment of the Eight Immortal Stars, the great sages of their time had made a pilgrimage to the place of his birth and gathered over the hero as an infant. They performed their ancient rituals in the presence of the child and his parents, and foretold for him a great and righteous destiny, one that would shake the fundamental pillars of the heavens and the earth.

But upon hearing the prophecies, his parents grew afraid that the agents of darkness would seek to destroy their child before his time. They fled to the furthest reaches of the kingdom and raised their child in hiding until he came of age. When they returned, they found their home being guarded by three large white herons, and so knew that what they had done was blessed and right in the eyes of heaven.

Stories of a great and virtuous hero soon spread throughout the land. Villagers shared his stories with each other around their fires. Young women giggled and blushed as they gossiped of him amongst themselves. Boys acted out his adventures in the streets with crude paper fans and swords fashioned out of bamboo and twine.

Tales of his exploits even went so far as to reach the great capital at the heart of the kingdom, and the ears of the divine emperor himself. Intrigued by the rumors, the divine emperor summoned the hero to his royal palace to honor him and to discuss with him the way of the enlightened man, for he believed himself to also be a moral and noble man blessed by the heavens.

News of the hero’s coming spread through the capital city like a forest on fire. Elated by the opportunity to witness a figure of such prestige with their own eyes, the common citizens rose as one and worked without rest to prepare the city for his arrival. They swept the streets and the alleys, swathed the entire city in red banners, and hung bright golden lanterns from the eaves of every building. Women bought the finest jewelry and face paint that they could afford. Men trimmed their beards and washed their faces until they shone, some for the first times in their adult lives. Everyone wished to make a favorable impression on the hero who was said to be the noblest and most virtuous among men.

When he arrived, the city exploded with celebration. Streamers of every color flew overhead in great falling arches. Fireworks squealed and burst in the sky. Huddled groups of giggling young girls ran forward and adorned the hero and the imperial guards escorting him with garlands of the freshest flowers. They unrolled a long bolt of fine red silk at his feet and sent dancers before him, singing:

Make way! Make way! The hero of man

Blesses all who draw breath

How fortunate is the divine emperor

To meet with the second coming of Danmu

Make way! Make way! The hero of man

Blesses all who gaze upon him

How fortunate are we all

To bathe in the presence of heaven

They made their way throughout the entire city, singing and celebrating the hero’s coming until the sun was high in the sky.

Once they arrived at the royal palace, they escorted the hero through a series of decorated doors and into a vast and lavish hall of wood and stone. Two rows of giant pillars, each hewn from single trunk pieces of ancient red pine, glistened with artisanal engravings of silver, mother of pearl, and unalloyed gold.

A hundred ministers, advisors, and counsellors, in their decorated uniforms of red, black, and blue, stood in attendance alongside the ornate pillars with their wide sleeves held together and heads reverently bowed. They lined a broad carpeted walkway that stretched almost the length of the entire hall, from the entrance and down to the base of a large dais, where it lay flanked on either side by head high jade statues of long whiskered dragons. Atop the dais, the emperor sat on a throne of fragrant, dark softwood inlaid with a golden figure of a phoenix wreathed in chrysanthemums.

The hero lowered himself onto all fours, and touched his forehead to the ground.

“Long life to the divine emperor for honoring his humble servant with his favor,” he said. “Truly his grace is immeasurable!”

But to the surprise of everyone present, the divine emperor did not rise in greeting, or smile down upon the hero. Instead, he gazed above and beyond the hero as if he were not there, and ran a pensive, ringed hand through his beard.

“We had heard so many stories of you, hero, and had been so intrigued to meet with your person for ourselves,” he said. His voice was cold and aloof. “But now that the moment is upon us, we admit to finding ourselves deeply disappointed.”

The royal attendees murmured to each other behind their sleeves in shock. Had not the divine emperor sent for the hero himself? Had he not looked forward to this meeting as much as any of them?

The hero prostrated himself even further. “O Chosen One of Heaven, your unworthy servant is but a mortal man, woven of flesh and blood. If the eyes of the emperor have found me wanting in any way, then may he command me to leave at once and it shall be done without delay.”

The emperor said nothing, stroked his beard, and made a long, thoughtful sound.

Then a voice spoke.

“Most honorable father,” it said. “Most honorable father. I beg your forgiveness for my interruption, but I must implore you not to send our hero away so soon.”

The voice came from an elaborate screened stall far behind the emperor’s elevated throne. Although it swelled and carried easily throughout the throne room, it also somehow contained within it a measure of hushed serenity that settled and deepened the surrounding silence, a white flowered lily on the surface of a still, dark pond.

“It is not your place to be noticed or heard, most honorable daughter,” the emperor replied without turning. He lowered his voice a shade in warning. “Remember your duty. Do not bring upon yourself the dishonor and embarrassment of being dismissed from this courtroom and our sight.”

“Again I must beg your forgiveness, most honorable father,” spoke the princess. “For I would not have spoken as I did had I not been compelled by my very duty to remind this courtroom of our subjects and their great love for the hero. Did they not work long and diligently in preparation for his arrival? Were not their songs and celebrations so loud that the sound of them reached even our ears, here, in the heart of the palace? To turn the hero out so soon after such a welcome would only reflect poorly on the palace and our royal family.”

As she spoke, the hero’s mind filled with insight. He saw that the emperor, having seen the efforts of his people and having heard the sounds of their joyous welcome, had chafed and let envy grow in his heart. Envy had spawned dislike, and it was for this reason that the hero now suffered the divine emperor’s displeasure.

But the blade of grass grown in the minds of fools is a tree that bears fruit in the wise, and even as the flower of new knowledge bloomed within the hero, another grew beside it. He saw too that the princess had spoken with plural purpose, not as an arrow pierces a target, but as a net catches fish, and among them swam a singular intent of passing to him the knowledge and reason of her father’s disharmonious state. The hero marvelled at the princess’s conveyance and by it knew her to be intelligent, courageous, generous, subtle, and kind.

“O Most Insightful and Divine Emperor,” he said, speaking quickly. “What mortal could hope to impress a chosen of heaven? Can a star stand beside the sun? What prowess or wisdom could your unworthy servant have hoped to display that would not waver and collapse when brought before the splendor of your divinity?”

The emperor ran a gilded hand through his beard, and a pleased look gleamed in his eyes.

“Truly it is as you say, O Noblest of Kings,” the hero continued. “And now your servant is proved a disappointment in his comparative simplicity and homeliness. How clear the difference must be between The Divine Incarnation of Heaven and this lowly servant in the eyes of all here in your presence! Command your humble servant to leave at once with his shame, and it shall be done in the swiftest of manners.”

But the divine emperor brushed the notion aside with a wave of his hand. Assuaged by the hero’s flattery, he smiled down upon the hero at last.

“The fault lies equally upon us, noble hero, for being as accustomed as we are with our own heavenly self.” he said graciously. He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Forgive this humble emperor his unkind words, and continue to allow us the honor of your presence. For though the most esteemed princess speaks out of turn, the truth in her words cannot be denied. We have all been looking forward to this day.”

The hero lowered his head. “Truly your grace is immeasurable!”

Behind her screened curtain, the princess smiled into a delicate hand. There amongst all the ministers, and nobles, and advisors of the great throne room, she alone had heard the true heart of the hero’s words in response to her own, and so knew him to be insightful, brave, humble, and to hold within him a rare, selfless balance of cunning and wisdom.

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Over the course of the next few days, the divine emperor hosted the great hero in the royal palace. They touched upon many subjects and conversed over higher matters of philosophy, enlightenment, and fate. At each new turn of discussion, the hero spoke with such clarity and depth that many of those who stood in attendance trembled at his words and felt their hearts changed by his wisdom.

The emperor asked to hold the hero’s great iron fan and curved sword, and to hear from the hero’s own mouth a personal narration of the many tales that had reached the capital. The hero immediately offered them up to the emperor, and there in the presence of him and his court, recounted all the notable events of his life starting from the very beginning and the moment of his birth, the sages, and the stars.

The court of ministers, counsellors, and advisors listened to his tales in spellbound awe. They gasped at the recounting of the Divine Bull with its blood red fur and its amber eyes. They wept for the mother who gave her life for her daughter’s in the Field of Stones. They laughed aloud at the antics of the feathered ogres, and then applauded enthusiastically at their demise.

All the while, seated behind her screen, the princess listened in silence and felt her wonder of the wide world and her admiration of the hero grow with each passing day.

But the emperor was not as pleased.

The wisdom, the virtue, and the stories that so captivated the royal court, darkened and embittered the emperor’s heart. He fumed with frustration at each eloquent phrase from the hero’s mouth, and boiled at each retelling of his heroic feats. He tossed and turned in his chambers each night, anguished by the hero’s celebrated status, and burned with a hatred that burns most intensely of all, a hatred without slight.

Finally, one night, unable to bear the hero’s presence any longer, the emperor came up with a plan.

The following day, as the royal court convened and the hero bowed before him, the divine emperor bade the princess to come forward and sit beside him at his right hand. Perplexed, she did as he commanded, remaining hidden behind the screen with the help of her attendants.

“Today, hero,” said the emperor. “What we wish to hear from you is not a matter of ideology or personal history, but one which lies much closer to our heart.” He gestured broadly to the screened palisade beside him. “For many years, we have worried and deliberated upon just what manner of individual would be worthy to receive the honor of our most honorable daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The hero froze and the princess’s heart became like a hummingbird within her. The ministers, counsellors, and advisors murmured excitedly to each other behind their sleeves. Could it be?

The emperor raised a regal hand, adjuring the court into silence, then placed it humbly upon his chest.

“Hero,” he said. “These past days have proven to us that none greater have come before you in our age, nor are any likely to follow. It is my utter belief that no father, rich or poor, could receive a higher honor than to have you as a son-in-law. Here, before a hundred worthy witnesses, I ask: will you take the princess as your wife?”

So lay the first of two traps that the emperor had crafted with cunning care. If the hero refused, then he would be insulting the emperor and the princess so harshly that it would be punishable only by death. But if he accepted, he would be forever confined within the palace from then on, and his life as a hero wandering the land would be at an end.

The courtroom exploded with whispers of excitement. The tumult of their noise resonated and rolled within the throne room so loudly that the hero had to yell to be heard.

“The divine emperor honors me beyond any of my wildest dreams,” he said. The attendants quieted to hear him speak. “But your humble servant is not worthy to be granted such an honor. I am a simple man of lowly birth, with neither lands nor riches to my name.”

“Nonsense!” the emperor exclaimed, prepared for such a response. He lifted his head and raised his voice to address the entire court. “Is there any person who could possibly claim to be more honorable than our hero?”

“It is not so, Your Majesty!” said all the ministers, counsellors, and advisors as one.

“Is there any man among men who could possibly claim to possess within themselves more strength or perception than our hero?”

“It is not so, Your Majesty!” they replied.

“Therefore is there any man among men more worthy to be considered for the princess’s hand in marriage?”

“It is not so, Your Majesty!”

Their words rang and echoed in the courtroom. Then they faded into silence.

The hero, still procumbent, struggled in vain to extricate himself from his plight without insulting either the princess or the emperor who had so generously hosted him for so long.

“Most honorable father,” the princess’s voice stepped gently into the bated silence, a fawn’s first footfall into winter’s first snow. “Most honorable father. Though I thank you for the opportunity, would it not be an extraordinary shame to see the hero so restricted for the rest of his life? Truly it is as you say, any spouse of such a hero would undoubtedly be the luckiest woman of all.”

She paused for the barest portion of a breath.

“But should he not be free? He is, after all, his own man with his own spirit.”

The hero felt his heart move at her words, for in them he heard the courage to deny her father, the selflessness to deny herself, the generosity it took to wish for him his own desires, and foremost of all, the true silver bell chime of love.

“Do not speak unless spoken to, Most Honorable Daughter,” said the emperor sternly. “The decision rests entirely in our hero’s wise and capable hands.”

In the long span of quiet that followed, the hero balanced the weight of many things in his mind. Acutely aware, as few ever are, that in that moment he stood at a great crossroads on the path to his fate, the hero dismissed the emperor, the attendants, and the palace at large from his mind and searched within himself to find a decision that would most satisfy his heart.

“Your Majesty,” he said, at last. He took a deep breath as the silence within the great hall deepened and grew still.

“If it truly is what you wish, then your servant would be honored to receive your daughter’s hand in marriage.

The throne room exploded with cheers and applause. The hero dared to lift his head and cast his gaze in the direction of the princess in her palisade. Momentarily forgetting that she was already obscured from sight, the princess hid her blushing face behind her small hands.

The emperor smiled.

“We are most delighted, noble hero,” he extolled. “We are most delighted indeed! Today we have found ourselves a son-in-law who is without peer!”

“It is as you say, Your Majesty!” said the emperor’s one hundred attendants.

“But I’m afraid,” said the emperor. He raised a ringed hand to summon his hall once again into an attentive silence. “That this brings us to a single tedium of formality.”

“I am your humble servant, divine emperor,” bowed the hero.

The emperor nodded. “It is one of our oldest laws and one of our most ancient customs, for the bride and groom to present a gift to each other’s families at the wedding ceremony. It is a tradition that is followed by all, rich and poor, noble and commoner, young and old. None are above this law, not even those of royal blood.”

The attendants in the courtroom murmured to each other in agreement.

“But it is as you once said,” said the emperor. “You are without riches or lands. We could not presume to take either your sword or your fan from you, for they are as much a part of you as your own hands and feet. Therein lies our dilemma.

The emperor held his hands with his palms up, as if he was weighing the options between them

“If we ask for too simple a thing, it may give the impression that we were being too generous and therefore favoring you too highly. But we also cannot ask for something you do not have, or cannot grasp - that would run opposite to our desires and show us to be false and untrue.”

Then he clapped his hands together in excitement. “But we believe we have found a solution to this conundrum that will resolve all these issues and allow us to move forward with balance.”

“There is a rare silver fox that is said to reside in the land of the distant Mountain, at the borders of our kingdom,” the emperor continued. “And while the palace holds many fine animals within its walls, it cannot yet claim the possession of a silver fox. Capture this creature for us and bring it back alive as your gift. Then none shall be able to speak against the union of our families, and you and the princess shall be married without delay!”

And so sprang the second and more cunning of the two traps the emperor had devised. In truth, he had never heard of any such fox and had fabricated its entire existence. But since none had heard of it, none could deny it, and the hero most certainly could not return empty handed or declare the emperor a liar. He would search the lands of the Mountain, without result, until he was finally declared unfaithful, a swindler, or both.

Once again, the throne room exploded with ecstatic applause and shouts of joy. Once again the princess smiled behind a trembling hand as her heart fluttered and shook with disbelief. And the emperor laughed and laughed with all the seeming appearance of magnanimity, gloating to himself at his victory over the hero.

Suspecting nothing, the hero lowered his head a final time.

“Truly your grace is immeasurable!”

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The next morning, the hero set off on his journey with his sword, his fan, and a small jade hairpin gifted to him by the princess as a sign of her favorable regard.

When he reached the village at the foot of the Mountain, he called on all who lived there, asking for any information or clue as to where he might find the silver fox. But to his disappointment, the villagers of the valley knew very little about the Mountain or the Forest upon it, despite having spent their entire lives in its shadow.

“We have no reason to go up there,” one said.

“Who knows what could be lurking in the Forest?” said another.

One elderly lady living alone with her husband simply shut the door in his face without a word.

Undaunted, he gathered his belongings and went up from the village and into the Forest, where he searched high and low for the silver fox for many days and nights on end. He lay snares along the foot trails of small animals, stalked the most accessible sources of water, lay out the most tempting morsels of raw meat, everything he could think of. But even after nearly a complete turn of the moon, he found nothing to indicate that there was any sort of fox on the Mountain at all. With a grim determination, he returned to the village to restock on food and supplies.

“Hello!” a young girl called from the entrance of her home, as he was making his back out of the village. She bowed when he looked her way.

The hero, cheered by the sight of the girl’s young, happy face, bowed in reply. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“What are you doing here, uncle?” she asked.

“I’m trying to catch a fox,” he replied. “But I’m sad to say I haven’t been able to find one.”

“Of course you haven’t found one, uncle,” the girl said, matter of factly. “That’s probably because you don’t know where they are.”

“It’s true, it’s true,” the hero sighed. “If only someone knew where I might find one, and could share with me. But I have asked everyone, and can’t seem to find anyone who knows.”

The girl tilted her head, with a serious look on her face. “But you haven’t asked me.”

The hero hid a smile and smacked himself lightly on the forehead. “Oh, why of course I haven’t!” He made a great show of formally walking up to the young girl, who giggled clumsily behind her hands.

“Lady,” he asked gallantly. “Do you know where there might be any foxes on the mountain?”

“Of course I do, uncle!” the girl smiled proudly. “I know where all the foxes are, even the silver ones!”

At this, the hero stiffened with shock. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded.

The hero swallowed, mouth dry. “Could you tell me, child? It would be such a help after so many fruitless nights.”

The girl looked around secretively, then beckoned for the hero to lean in close.

“They live in the Forest,” she confided with a whisper. She pointed a small, stubby finger up the side of the Mountain. “Up there.”

His heart sank with disappointment. “I see.”

“But you can’t bring your sword into the Forest,” she whispered again. “Or else they’ll know, and they’ll hide.”

He frowned.

“Daughter!” yelled a voice from inside the house. “Daughter, where are you?”

“Coming, father!” she yelled. She turned to the hero and bowed. “Uncle, I need to go now. Goodbye!”

He bowed. “Goodbye.”

She turned back into the house, and slid the door to a close behind her. But for a long moment, the hero stood and stared after her, thinking on the conversation that had just taken place.

When he reached the entrance of the Forest, he stepped off the path, and wrapped his fan and sword in a well oiled cloth, tied it tight, and buried them in a shallow marked pit.

He found the silver fox just around the very first bend of the Forest’s path.

It was resting on a log, bathing in the sunlight, as if it had always been so effortless to find. Relief, and a small sense of wonder, washed over him. But as he took his very first step toward it, it rose and leaped over a patch of bushes.

Not wanting to lose sight of it, the hero ran after it, catching only the barest glimpses of it as he ran hard at its heels through the trees - a tail disappearing into some ferns, the sound of its paws padding furiously against the ground. But the fox was quick and seemed always to be a few steps ahead of the hero. Thoughtless now in his pursuit, he chased headlong after the silver fox, off the beaten path, and deep into the Forest.

Still the fox eluded him, somehow managing to always stay out of sight and reach. As a final desperate ploy, the hero ripped his packs and supplies off his back just as the fox darted behind a large, moss covered tree. Unburdened, the hero flew after the silver fox, rounded the tree with a wild, excited laugh, and disappeared.