In the enchanted village of Shi Feng, time didn't pass the way it did in the cities especially during the Spring Moon Festival, when the veil between the mortal and spirit realms grew whisper-thin.
Lanterns bobbed gently like glowing fish over the river, cherry blossoms fluttered in the breeze even though it wasn't quite spring, and everywhere, laughter echoed with a hint of magic in its cadence.
Ren Kael stood at the edge of the bridge, watching the reflection of the crescent moon ripple in the water. His dusty scholar's robes clung to him awkwardly—he'd been traveling for days, chasing rumors of a performance that no one could prove existed.
They called it A Foxie's Play—a tale passed between drunken elders and dreamy-eyed children. A masked fox spirit, they claimed, appeared once every century, weaving illusions so real they could make even the heartless weep.
Ren didn't believe in fairy tales. But he did believe in curiosity.
"Looking for her, are you?" an old woman croaked from her paper-lantern stall. Her eyes twinkled like a trickster god's. "She only appears to those who don't seek her."
Ren gave a polite smile. "Then it's a good thing I'm only here for the dumplings."
She cackled, her laughter rising with the music now drifting through the village square—sweet, and impossibly distant, like it came from a memory not his own.
As the festival deepened into night, the crowd began to gather at the edge of the moon pond. The wind stilled. Even the trees leaned in.
And then, she appeared.
Cloaked in silver mist, her hair like flowing ink, and a porcelain fox mask veiling half her face, the spirit moved as though she were painting the world with her steps. Cherry blossoms bloomed in her wake. Golden threads spun from her fingers, weaving illusions in the air—children dancing with stars, lovers reunited, dreams given shape.
The villagers gasped, enchanted. Entranced.
Ren… didn't blink.
He crossed his arms.
The spirit paused mid-spin. Her mask tilted, curious.
Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, something shifted.
She descended the stage of mist and illusions, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. The crowd faded around them like a dream losing shape.
"You're not clapping," she said, voice smooth as river silk, teasing at the edges.
"I've seen better," Ren said with a lazy smirk. "Though I admit, the cherry blossoms were a nice touch."
Her eyes—amber and ancient—sparkled. "And here I thought I was flawless."
He raised a brow. "You're a fox spirit. Aren't you supposed to enjoy a good game?"
She leaned closer. "Then let's play one."
Ren's heart skipped—just once—but he hid it behind calm sarcasm. "Rules?"
"If I make your heart race before dawn," she said, circling him like a ribbon of mist, "you'll grant me a wish."
"And if you fail?"
A grin tugged at her lips. "Then I'll owe you one."
Ren met her gaze and said softly, "Then let's play."