The moment the "Huang Xiangu" slid into its new body, it instantly sensed something was off. But by then there was no turning back - halfway inside now, it tried to recoil in panic only for the leather pouch's cruelly designed six-sided opening to tighten alarmingly. The external seams stretched easily when pulled from outside, but once trapped from within, the locking flaps would contract instantly. The thin, tight six-pointed clasp bit into its bones with agonizing precision, sending it spinning through the air before collapsing unconscious in a heap.

From the fat man's fart that startled the "Huang Xiangu" to the sparrow's misfired hunting rifle driving it into this deadly trap - all happened within one breath. We three lay frozen under our red pine tree watching, stunned by how swiftly events had turned. After a brief moment of disbelief, we dashed over to claim our prize.

Just as I secured the leather pouch in my grip, a deep-throated roar echoed from the mountainside. A primal, intangible pressure darkened the night air so suddenly it made us stumble back. "There's a bear cave near the fox graves!" We paled at this realization and took off running toward the riverbank without another word.

This winter had come too early - the bears were still fattening their reserves before hibernation when this commotion could wake them. But I didn't linger on these thoughts, trusting that reaching the forest station would save us most of our chances. We plunged through ice-locked logs following our original path back to camp, gasping for breath all the way. Inside the hut we burst into laughter at each other's pitiful states.

The fat man hastily lit a lantern and tugged open the pouch. When he pulled out the unresponsive "Huang Xiangu" with its tail dragging limp, he feared it was dead - a live pelt would fetch far better price than this corpse. After all, neither of us knew how to properly skin an animal without damaging the fur quality. We both groaned when we realized our prize might only buy two pounds of candy instead of ten.

"Sparrow" had experience with these creatures and warned urgently: "Don't let go! This one masters playing dead best - it'll vanish the moment your grip loosens, careful about its final trick..."

The fat man was already preparing to drop it when he heard this. He tightened his grip on both hind legs and tail just as something bizarre happened. The "Huang Xiangu" indeed played dead but seemed to understand Sparrow's warning too well. Before the second escape plan could be revealed, a thick black cloud erupted from its posterior.

Though the lantern light was dim, we clearly saw the noxious plume billowing behind it. Within seconds my lungs seized against an unbearable stench that made me stagger toward the door. The icy night air helped little as nausea and vertigo overtook me completely.

Sparrow also bolted outside with handfuls of snow slapping his face to combat the stench. When I noticed the fat man was still inside, panic surged through me - but suddenly he crashed out the window looking positively green from exposure. Still clutched in his hand: the "Huang Xiangu". His eyes burned with tears from the searing odor, blinding him completely as he stumbled into the wooden frame. Yet even in this state, his grip never wavered as he bellowed through gritted teeth: "Damn you to hell, I won't let go! Ten pounds of candy, nothing will make me let go!"

The "Huang Xiangu" fainted again under the fat man's iron grasp. I felt a surge of triumph knowing we'd finally captured it and that the mountain bears hadn't tracked us down. "Even a stink bomb won't break our resolve," I laughed as I patted the fat man on the back. "With daybreak coming, we should secure this beast before heading to town for candy - maybe even some cigarettes too. Knock Mountain's old man keeps smoking those terrible roll-your-own blends... time someone upgraded his stash."

The thought of trading our prize filled us with excitement. This forest watch post was proving better than expected - if only we could catch a fox tomorrow night. The fat man danced joyfully, fastening the "Huang Xiangu" to the wall with wire. We rummaged through Knock Mountain's leftover yellow millet buns from his clay jar to satisfy our hunger.

These sticky rice dumplings tasted strange somehow. With Lunar New Year still weeks away, who could have prepared this many? And why would this old man and granddaughter need so much food anyway? The mystery niggled at us as we continued eating.

The "Huang Xiangu" finally revived from its fainting spell. I tossed it a piece of bun but it refused to eat. Instead it sat in the corner like a sorrowful beauty, gazing at her caged leg with tear-filled eyes that streamed endlessly down its face.

The fat man found this amusing and barked: "Don't you dare cry! I'm going to interrogate you right now - confess how many chickens you've stolen from the people. And remember, first thing tomorrow I'll be taking you to to become a fur collar!"

We all laughed heartily at his dramatics when suddenly loud thuds rattled our cabin door. A jarring cry like splintered wood being sawn pierced through the wind-lashed night. I immediately grabbed my hunting rifle and flung open the door - only to find the forest station utterly deserted under the howling blizzard.

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