Little Fox Story: Little Fox and Auntie Oil Lamp
The house was warm with the fire in the stove, and the fragrant aroma of milk tea filled the air. The quilt, stuffed with new cotton, was adorned with sunflowers embroidered by Mom in the spring. Everything seemed perfect; everything should have been warm. Yet, Little Fox A-Qiu still felt cold, very cold.
It had never felt so cold before.
A-Qiu stepped out of the house and looked down the mountain.
There was a dilapidated wooden house there. Every evening, a light would glow from inside the house and wouldn’t go out until dawn.
“That’s a ‘haunted house,’” Mom told A-Qiu when it was very small.
“A haunted house?”
“Yes, the ranger who lived there is long gone, but the light still shines consistently. It must be haunted,” said Dad.
A-Qiu was very curious.
Curious little A-Qiu had once sneaked down the mountain while its parents weren’t paying attention and peeked at the wooden house from behind the bushes. “It really doesn’t look like anyone lives there,” it thought, and then, scared, it scurried back up the mountain.
“I really want to take another look,” A-Qiu thought, shivering in the cold.
“The light is so gentle. Even if it’s a ghost, it shouldn’t be scary,” A-Qiu thought again.
Determined, A-Qiu started walking down the mountain. As it walked, it thought about building a snow fox on this path last winter with Mom and Dad, about picking wildflowers in the spring on this same path. They had planned to build an even bigger snow fox this year. But in the fall, both Mom and Dad fell seriously ill and passed away one after the other. So, A-Qiu was left alone. It found food alone, ate alone, walked alone, warmed itself by the stove alone, and slept alone… Being alone was so cold.
The snow fell heavier.
The wind blew stronger.
The orange light from the wooden house gave A-Qiu a sudden warmth in its heart.
“I really want someone to talk to, even if it’s a ‘ghost,’” A-Qiu mumbled as it rounded the bushes.
It came to the wooden house.
Inside, it was silent except for the occasional soft “pop.”
Looking through the broken window, there was nothing inside. No tables, chairs, pots, pans, or even spider webs—just a single oil lamp standing quietly on a clean stove, glowing brightly.
“Hello, is anyone there?” A-Qiu cautiously pushed the wooden door open.
“Pop!” The oil lamp inside responded crisply, glowing even brighter.
“I’m a little fox. My name is A-Qiu,” said A-Qiu.
“Hello, child,” someone said softly.
A-Qiu looked around the room carefully again. There was indeed nothing else, only the oil lamp and the stove.
“Stop looking. It’s me, Auntie Oil Lamp, talking to you.”
For a few seconds, A-Qiu didn’t know what to say and just stared at the now brighter and prettier oil lamp. It was a very ordinary oil lamp with a copper body and a cotton wick.
“Is there no one else here?” A-Qiu timidly asked after a while.
“No, but there used to be,” Auntie Oil Lamp said slowly.
“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh,” the wind howled over the roof; “pat, pat, pat,” the snowflakes hit the door and window frames. A-Qiu placed Auntie Oil Lamp on the floor, cupping it with its hands, afraid it might go out.
On this cold night, amid the howling wind and snow, Auntie Oil Lamp slowly told A-Qiu about the past.
“Once, a forest ranger lived here. He lived for a long time. Every evening, he would light me, talking to me, saying many, many things. Later, he grew old and left, leaving me alone. But soon, a little mouse moved into this house.
It was a clever little thing, often telling little lies, but we got along well. Every night we would talk about many things, like where it came from, why it liked to steal things, what the ranger’s pipe looked like, and why I could light myself. Those were beautiful days. But little mice always grow up, don’t they? It fell in love with another mouse. For its loved one, it had to leave this house and move to a distant forest. I heard they settled under an oak tree.
After the little mouse left, an old rabbit came. A lonely old rabbit. We were both very old, so we had endless things to talk about. But it was so old. One day, it said it wanted to watch the sunset… I knew it would never come back, just like the ranger…”
“Every evening, I light myself, waiting for the next ranger, the next little mouse, or another old rabbit, or…” Auntie Oil Lamp paused, her warm light keeping the wind and snow outside, keeping the darkness at bay.
“Or a little fox, a lonely little fox,” A-Qiu said.
“Pop!” Auntie Oil Lamp made a crisp sound. In this sound, in the bright light, A-Qiu’s cold heart felt a touch of spring. It quietly watched the flame flicker in the wick, quietly talked with Auntie Oil Lamp. It felt that this winter wasn’t as cold as it had imagined.
This is a story about “loneliness” and “warmth.” The little fox is lonely, eating alone, walking alone, sleeping alone, just like we walk home alone from school, walk alone on the path of growing up. But no matter how lonely the situation, as long as you are willing to search, you can always find warmth. There will always be someone waiting for you on your journey, or willing to accompany you, like the oil lamp on a snowy night. Though it only provides a small light, it warms not only the little fox but also perhaps me and you.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
