An old woman in Shaoxing was spinning thread late one night at home when suddenly a young maiden pushed open the door and entered, smiling, "Grandmother, you are so diligent, aren't you tired?" Focusing her gaze, she saw a girl of about eighteen or nineteen, exquisitely beautiful and adorned in splendid attire. The old woman asked, "Miss, what brings you here so late at night?" The maiden replied, "I saw Grandmother sitting all alone, so I specially came to keep you company."

The old woman suspected she was the daughter of a wealthy family and repeatedly inquired about her background. The maiden said, "Grandmother, do not be afraid. Like you, I am also lonely. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we lived together and passed the time chatting to stave off boredom?" The old woman then suspected she might be a fox spirit, hesitating and remaining silent. The maiden smiled faintly, took the spinning wheel from her hands, and said, "Grandmother, you don't need to worry. I have known how to spin thread since childhood; I am capable of supporting myself and won't be a freeloader." As she spoke, she turned the wheel, and indeed, her skill was masterful.

Seeing how gentle and lovely she was, the old woman was no longer frightened. As the night deepened, the maiden said, "I brought bedding with me for this visit—pillows and blankets—which I left just outside the door. Could Grandmother please bring them in for me?" The old woman agreed with a nod, stepped out of the room, and returned shortly, carrying a large bundle.

The maiden placed the bundle on the **, reached out, and unfastened it. Inside were a pillow and a quilt, made of a fabric of unknown origin that felt incomparably soft and smooth. The old woman spread the quilt, and the two retired to bed. An exotic fragrance filled the entire room, lingering for a long time.

After falling asleep, the old woman thought to herself, "Such a beauty is truly a peerless vision in this mortal world; it is a pity I am not a man." The maiden chuckled beside her pillow, "Grandmother, past seventy, and yet you indulge in improper thoughts?" The old woman replied, "How could that be?" The maiden countered, "If you have no such fantasies, then why wish you were a man?"

Seeing that the maiden had seen through her thoughts, the old woman knew she must be a fox spirit and felt a sudden surge of terror. The maiden laughed, "Since you wish to be a man, why do you fear me instead?" Hearing this, the old woman became even more terrified, her legs trembling uncontrollably. The maiden remarked, "You have such little courage, and yet you wish to be a man. Let me tell you the truth: I am no fox spirit, but an immortal, and I would never harm you. As long as you keep this a secret, your livelihood will be secure."

The next morning, the old woman knelt on the ground to pay her respects to the maiden. The maiden reached out and helped her up. Upon contact, the old woman felt her skin was soft and slippery, like water, and couldn't help but harbor amorous thoughts. The maiden laughed, "You were scared to death last night, and now you've reverted so quickly? If you were a man, you would surely be ensnared by love." The old woman replied, "If I were a man, I would willingly perish upon your form."

From then on, the two lived together. The maiden was exceptionally skilled; the silk threads she spun were uniformly fine and lustrous, and the cloth she wove was as bright as brocade, selling for twice the price of comparable goods. Every time the old woman went out, she would securely lock the doors and windows. If a visitor arrived, she would receive them in the outer room. Thus, for half a year, no one knew the maiden's true identity.

Later, the old woman let slip some information, and the maiden's deeds spread wider and wider. Sisters in the village flocked to request an audience. The maiden reproached her, "It's all because of your gossiping; it seems I won't be able to stay long." The old woman, realizing her mistake, blamed herself deeply. However, the petitioners grew countless every day, with some even resorting to forceful demands. Unable to bear it, the old woman consulted the maiden on how to handle the situation.

The maiden said, "If it were merely female companionship, a brief meeting would be harmless. I fear that once this precedent is set, frivolous young men will swarm here—what then?" The old woman begged incessantly, and the maiden reluctantly agreed.

The following day, village women of all ages gathered to pay their respects. The maiden, tireless and indifferent, showed no regard for rank or status, treating everyone the same. She sat upright on a chair, allowing the crowds to kowtow, yet never uttering a single word. The village youths, hearing of the maiden's beauty, were utterly captivated and vied to see her, but the old woman refused them all.

In the county town lived a scholar named Fei Sheng, a man known for his romantic reputation. He exhausted his family fortune, bribing the old woman heavily to plead with the maiden for a single glimpse. The maiden complained, "Are you trying to sell me out?" The old woman prostrated herself, begging and pleading on Fei Sheng's behalf. The maiden finally relented, "You are greedy for the scholar's money, yet I am moved by his deep affection. A meeting may be granted. However, our destined connection has reached its end."

At dawn the next day, Fei Sheng prepared incense and candles and came to call. The maiden received him behind a cloth curtain, asking, "Young Master, you spared no expense to see me; what have you to say?" Fei Sheng replied, "I have long heard that your beauty rivals that of celestial beings, your countenance no less than Xi Shi or Wang Zhaojun. I only wished to behold your visage, and beyond that, I dare not harbor any improper thoughts." As soon as the words left his mouth, radiant light shone from behind the curtain, gradually revealing the silhouette of the maiden's face—her willow brows and crimson lips, exquisitely beautiful.

Fei Sheng was momentarily blinded, his heart profoundly stirred, and he involuntarily dropped to his knees in homage. When he rose again, the maiden had retreated deep behind the curtain. The fabric hung heavy, and only her voice could be heard, not her person. Fei Sheng felt a deep sense of regret, thinking, "I did not see the Lady's lower body just now—what a pity, what a pity."

Before the thought had fully formed, the maiden was already aware of it. With a faint smile, she extended a jade foot from within the curtain—her two feet, slender and delicate, could be held in one grasp. Fei Sheng's wish fulfilled, he bowed again. The maiden said, "I am tired now, Young Master, please take your leave." Fei Sheng bowed respectfully and departed to the outer room, where the old woman served him tea. Overcome by emotion, Fei Sheng picked up a brush and inscribed a poem on the wall:

Peeking past the veiled screen, three inches of wave-treading jade tips appear; Clearly touching the ground, lotus petals descend, delicate and fine, Adding double platforms makes them even more precious.

Flowers cradle the curved phoenix head, fitting the grasp, surely soft as silk; If only I could turn into a butterfly, by the hem of your skirt, One sniff of the lingering fragrance, and sweet death would be mine.

Having finished his poem, Fei Sheng strode away. The maiden silently read the verses and sighed, "I said our destined connection had ended, and indeed, I was correct." Hearing this, the old woman prostrated herself, begging forgiveness. The maiden said, "The fault is not yours; it is mine for lacking resolve and falling into an emotional trial. By revealing my form to the world, I have brought shame upon myself. If I do not leave now, I fear I will sink deeper, and recovery will be impossible." With that, she packed her belongings, turned, and walked out the door, vanishing in an instant.