Chapter 2 — My Little Vixen

The bathroom dissolved into a heavy silence, so absolute that the only sound left was the gentle, continuous trickle of running water. Rong Vang stood amidst the rising clouds of mist, lingering for a long, agonizingly protracted moment before he finally let out a single, quiet word: "Alright."

One by one, the tips of his tails began to fade and vanish into thin air. In the end, only a single tail remained—the very one he usually allowed me to stroke whenever I pleased. Yet for reasons I could not quite fathom, a sudden, piercing wave of sorrow washed over me, making him look startlingly forlorn. He resembled nothing less than a tiny, stray fox whose master had grown to despise the texture of its fur. My lips parted slightly, an instinctive urge rising within me to offer some form of explanation or comfort, but he had already turned around, bestowing upon me a gentle, heartbreaking smile.

"Did I frighten you?"

"I am so sorry."

The corners of his eyes remained tinged with a delicate red. Tiny droplets of condensation clung to his long eyelashes, making it momentarily impossible to tell whether the moisture came from the thick mist of the bathroom or the tears he was desperately forcing himself to swallow. From that fateful day onward, Rong Vang strictly forbade me from ever touching his tail again. To be completely accurate, he continued to treat me with the utmost gentleness. He would wake up early every morning to prepare breakfast for me. Whenever it rained, he would thoughtfully bring an umbrella to my office. If I worked overtime until the dead of night, he would quietly sit in his car parked down below, waiting patiently for my return. Upon my arrival home, he would crouch down to change my shoes for me, his fingers brushing gently against my ankles with the exact same tenderness as before.

Yet, both his fluffy ears and his mesmerizing tails had completely vanished. Utilizing some obscure beast-clan secret art, he had hidden them away entirely. As I stared at the empty sofa in our living room, a matching sense of emptiness hollowed out my chest. Was this remotely logical? This was entirely, utterly absurd! I, Co Mien, had been married for a mere three months, yet my husband had suddenly transformed from a limited-edition fluffy masterpiece into a standard-issue human mortal. Granted, the human version of him was undeniably breathtaking. But a life devoid of fluffy tails was like milk tea without pearls, hot pot without beef, or barbecue without dipping sauce—it had been stripped of its very soul.

I endured this agonizing state of affairs for three whole days. By the evening of the fourth day, my self-restraint finally shattered. Rong Vang was sitting quietly at the edge of the bed, engrossed in a book. I crawled over stealthily and threw my arms around him from behind.

"Rong Vang."

His hand, right in the middle of turning a page, abruptly froze.

"Hmm."

"Where did your tails go?"

"I put them away."

"Let them out so I can touch them, just for a second."

He fell silent. I pressed my forehead gently against his back, murmuring, "Just a tiny bit."

Rong Vang lowered his eyes, his voice dropping to a soft, barely audible whisper. "Didn't the young lady find them terrifying?"

I froze in place. My chest tightened as though pierced by an invisible needle. "I didn't mean it like that..."

Before the rest of the sentence could escape my lips, a sharp, piercing pain stabbed directly into my mind. Immediately afterward, a massive flood of unfamiliar memories came rushing and crashing into my consciousness. This world was far from ordinary; it was the setting of a web novel centered entirely around beast-folk. And Rong Vang was no ordinary white fox beastman either. He was the legendary, long-lost former king of the fox clan: a Nine-Tailed White Fox, born with supreme allure woven into his very bones. From birth, he possessed the innate ability to bewilder human minds, command all manner of beasts, and bend fate to his will.

According to the original plotline, internal turmoil within the clan had once left him severely wounded and stripped of his memories. The Co family had stumbled upon him during this vulnerable state, taking him in and turning him into my contract husband. As for me—Co Mien—I was a wicked, villainous supporting character who had shamelessly exploited his gentle, amnesiac disposition, treating him as little more than a living plush toy for my own amusement. Every single day, I would stroke his tails, knead his ears, and force him to use his tails to warm my feet in the dead of winter. Worse still, upon discovering that he actually possessed nine tails, I had mocked him for being terrifying and unnatural, declaring that he no longer resembled a proper beastman.

Later on, Rong Vang's memories would inevitably return. The true Fox King would ascend once more, his nine magnificent tails unfurling in all their terrifying glory. The very first thing he would do upon reclaiming his throne would be to drag me back to the forbidden grounds of the fox clan, forcing me to pay a heavy, agonizing price for my past transgressions. The chilling concluding line of the original synopsis echoed menacingly in my mind: "Co Mien finally understood that the tail of a Nine-Tailed White Fox had never, not even once, been something a mere human could touch at will."

My eyes flew open in absolute terror, my entire back drenched in a layer of cold sweat. Right before me, Rong Vang sat quietly, watching me with a steady gaze. The warm lamplight illuminated his refined, delicate features, highlighting his gentle and harmonious expression.

"Young lady?"

"Your complexion looks rather poor."

He reached out a hand, intending to check my forehead. With a frantic, startled motion, I dove headfirst beneath the covers, shrinking into a tight ball. His hand froze awkwardly in mid-air.

"Co Mien?"

My voice trembled as I stammered, "I-I'm fine."

He studied me intently. "Really?"

"Truly!"

I gripped the edge of the blanket with white-knuckled desperation, wishing I could weave myself into an impenetrable cocoon. It was over. Everything was completely, irrevocably over. Just how many times had I recklessly touched him in the past? How many times had I kissed his ears? How many sleepless nights had I spent buried in his fluffy tails? I had even casually remarked to him once, "Rong Vang, it would be wonderful if you actually had nine tails; then I could cuddle a different one every single day."

What was that statement? That was a formal death warrant. That was a suicidal declaration of war. That was a wicked supporting character thoughtfully picking out floral wreaths for her own grave.

Rong Vang asked in a low, melancholic voice, "Didn't you want to touch my tail?"

"I don't want to anymore!"

I bolted upright from the bed, wearing an expression as solemn and severe as someone presiding over a major corporate shareholder meeting. "Starting from today, I have decided to deeply respect the human rights of beast-folk."

"..."

"Both your ears and your tails are vital parts of your physical anatomy. In the past, touching them without your explicit permission was entirely devoid of basic manners and courtesy."

"..."

"From now on, I shall strictly maintain a polite and proper distance. I will no longer treat you as a giant, glorified plush pillow."

Rong Vang stared at me in silence. The faint, flickering light dwelling in the depths of his amber eyes extinguished, inch by painful inch. "Is that so?"

I nodded my head with frantic, desperate energy. "Yes!"

He remained quiet for a very long time before finally offering a faint, fragile smile. "Very well."

That smile was breathtakingly beautiful, yet it sent a fresh wave of primal panic rippling straight through my heart. Ever since that fateful night of sudden awakening, I resolved to embark on a strict path of "fur-detox." To be more precise, a total detoxification from Rong Vang. No ear-stroking. No tail-touching. No kissing. No embracing. No longer forcing him to act as my personal bed-warmer. And absolutely no more gazing into his overwhelmingly handsome face during the dead of night, letting mere physical attraction completely override my reason and self-preservation.

In the past, whenever bedtime arrived, I had always loved rolling straight into his embrace, clutching his tails tightly and burying my face against his chest to fall asleep. While Rong Vang would always protest with a mild, "Young lady, behave yourself," his hands would invariably act with absolute honesty, wrapping securely around my waist. Occasionally, when I woke up overheating in the middle of the night and impatiently kicked the blankets away in a daze, he would gently loop his tail around me, using it to block out the midnight chill in place of the discarded quilt. Back then, I had even accused him of being a hypocrite, claiming he secretly enjoyed it just as much as I did.

Reflecting upon it now, could that possibly be described as enjoyment? That was merely the future Fox King enduring humiliation with gritted teeth to bide his time! To successfully lower his hostility index and avoid my gruesome fate, I resolved to sleep in a separate room entirely. On the very first night, I gathered my pillow and marched resolutely toward the living room. Rong Vang stood quietly at the threshold of the master bedroom, watching my departure.

"Co Mien."

"Yes?"

His voice was feather-light. "Are you not going to sleep in here tonight?"

I forced a look of absolute composure. "Not anymore."

The single tail resting behind him twitched faintly before hastily tucking itself away out of sight. "Why?"

"Even a husband and wife require a healthy amount of personal space."

"..."

"Besides, I am currently undergoing a period of spiritual cleansing and self-cultivation."

Rong Vang gazed at me intently. Within those pale amber eyes, the lingering illumination dimmed bit by bit. He remained silent for so long that I almost convinced myself he would not utter another word. Then, he softly inquired, "Is there something about me that has made you uncomfortable?"

My scalp went completely numb. "No, no, no, you've been wonderful."

"Then why do you no longer want me?"

That single sentence struck like a microscopic, razor-sharp needle, piercing straight into the center of my heart. I came dangerously close to melting right then and there. But the terrifying image of myself locked away within the fox clan's forbidden grounds flashed violently across my mind, instantly jolting me back to harsh reality.

"It's not that I don't want you."

"It's just that from this day forward, both of us need to act like mature, sensible, and dignified adults."

Rong Vang lowered his head. "Alright."

The exact moment the door clicked shut, a remarkably faint sound drifted from the hallway outside—resembling the soft, lingering weight of someone gently leaning their forehead against the wooden panel. I lacked the courage to pull the door back open. Had I dared to look, I would have found Rong Vang standing alone in the dark corridor, his nine magnificent tails trailing downward in utter desolation, resembling a landscape swallowed by an unyielding blizzard. He kept his head bowed, quiet tears falling silently onto his fingertips. It was a sorrow both heartbreakingly quiet and agonizingly desolate.

My grand survival plan had officially commenced. Step one: Quit the fluff. Step two: Maintain distance. Step three: Minimize hostility.