A certain Taoist of Chaotian Temple delighted in the arts of breathing. An old man lodged with him in the temple who had the same tastes, and so they became friends in the Way. After living there some years, whenever the time of the suburban sacrifice drew near, the old man would leave a full ten days beforehand and return only after the sacrifice. The Taoist, wondering, asked him why. The old man said, "We are intimate friends, so I may tell you truthfully: I am a fox. When the time of the suburban sacrifice comes, all the gods purify the place of unclean things, and I have nowhere to hide, so I go away and flee."
Another year the old man left at the same season but did not return for a long time, which puzzled the Taoist. One day he came suddenly, and the Taoist asked the reason. He answered, "I very nearly could not see you again! Before, I had meant to flee far away, but I was slack at heart, and seeing the covered drain very hidden, I crouched beneath a brick of the vault. Little did I think the Guardian of the Gate, cleaning the place, would come there; he caught a glimpse of me, and in a rage was about to lay on his whip, when I fled in terror. He pursued me closely. When I reached the Yellow River and he was almost upon me, in dire straits I had no plan but to dive into a privy and hide. The god, loathing the filth, turned and went away. When I came out, the foul smell had so stained me that I could no longer walk among men. So I plunged into the water and washed myself, then lay hidden in a cave for a hundred days before the dirt and stench were clean. Now I have come to say farewell and also to warn you: you too should go away into hiding, for a great calamity is coming, and this is no place of good fortune." So saying he took his leave, and the Taoist, following his advice, moved elsewhere. Before long came the catastrophe of the jiashen year.