Encountering a Snake - Chapter 18

Shen Qingxuan could not believe that Yi Mo had simply vanished. Every element of the mountain—the flying birds, the clear green streams winding around the mountain, the hot springs shrouded in mist year-round—had once been accompanied by Yi Mo. Moreover, Yi Mo had lived there for years; it made no sense that he would leave everything behind and disappear without a trace. Shen Qingxuan did not believe it.

 

Where could he have gone? Shen Qingxuan sifted through his memories, searching for clues, but found no place where Yi Mo might have gone. Moving to a different place often meant starting over and adjusting to new surroundings. Yi Mo, being naturally aloof and averse to trouble, would not have left his homeland unless provoked by a great crisis—such as the fall of his companions into demonic paths or the incessant nagging of demons that stirred his murderous intent. Yi Mo would not leave.

 

He was certain of it.

 

He was certain, and yet over a month passed. The flowers and plants in the mountains withered, frost formed on the wet ground by the stream, hard and brittle when stepped on, making a harsh sound like frozen life being abruptly torn apart. Winter had arrived, and Yi Mo had still not returned.

 

The year’s seasons had seemed to pass by so quickly, almost as if in the blink of an eye it was winter again. It felt as if time itself had solidified, frozen in place, as if to punish him for letting it pass so swiftly.

 

The charcoal fire in the room burned brightly, yet he leaned by the open window, his gaze drifting far away. The warmth from the charcoal did nothing to alleviate his inner cold. He felt isolated from the world, as if separated from this warm little room by two different realms.

 

Yi Mo had not returned.

 

He waited quietly in the mountains, time seemingly frozen at the moment he learned of Yi Mo’s disappearance. No joy, no sorrow.

 

Xu Mingshi watched as Shen Qingxuan lost weight day by day, his increasingly thin body wrapped in a fox fur cloak, gradually losing its shape until only his pale face was visible, as if he could drift away with the snowflakes outside. It seemed as if he was in a trance, losing all interest in his surroundings, ignoring even Xu Mingshi’s attempts to talk to him. He sat by the window, growing thinner, paler, and more insubstantial, as if some invisible force was compelling him to maintain this posture.

 

Yi Mo had not returned.

 

Shen Qingxuan watched the snowflakes drifting outside the window, swirling and fluttering, sometimes drifting far away and sometimes falling close, eventually turning the entire world pale.

 

Relatives from below the mountain came to the villa one by one, offering advice, questioning, and speculating, but what could they ask of a mute? He ate his meals, drank his soup, and went to bed punctually. The maids pushed him to the bed, and he would support himself on the edge of the bed and lie down obediently, closing his eyes.

 

He only grew thinner, thinner by the day. The physician checked his pulse and found him as weak as before, with no change. The tonic was prepared according to the same prescription as in previous years, brewed bowl by bowl, and Shen Qingxuan drank it under supervision, handing the bowl over and then gazing out the window without moving.

 

During his most recent bath, Shen Qingxuan looked at himself in the tub. His protruding ribs were so prominent that they felt sharp to the touch. His once praised skin, now dull and lacking its former luster, had become dark and lifeless. All the tonics and soups had passed through his throat but quietly slipped away through the gaps in his chest.

 

Yi Mo had not returned.

 

Yi Mo was unaware that someone was stubbornly waiting for him. In his mind, that scheming person would never engage in such foolishness—there was no gain, and it was extremely passive. It could not be Shen Qingxuan’s style. Thus, he never imagined such a situation would occur. He accepted an old friend’s invitation and left the mountain.

 

The “old friend” who came to find him was none other than the immortal who had enlightened him a thousand years ago. Now a celestial being with a long white beard and a serene appearance, he had not changed much in nature over the millennia and still enjoyed unexpected visits. Yi Mo was genuinely surprised by his arrival. Besides surprise, there was only annoyance. This immortal, or “celestial being,” was surely not bringing good news—Yi Mo considered him synonymous with trouble. As expected, after exchanging pleasantries, the celestial being revealed his purpose: to enlist Yi Mo in descending the mountain to subdue a demon.

 

Once the purpose was clear, Yi Mo was too lazy to argue further. Compared to this unwelcome celestial who had once turned him into a demon, he would rather amuse himself by teasing Shen Qingxuan and passing the time while waiting for the tribulation.

 

The celestial being knew Yi Mo was unwilling to heed him and was not anxious. He sat aside, chattering on: “In the previous dynasty, there was a general who was undefeated and invincible. I remember you hid in his mansion during the last heavenly tribulation, didn’t you?”

 

Yi Mo ignored him.

 

The immortal stroked his beard and continued, “After your tribulation, you returned to the mountain to cultivate. Do you know what happened to that general later?” Yi Mo remained disinterested; for a snake demon who had lived for a thousand years, such matters were ephemeral. He was often unaware of changes in dynasties after reopening his eyes. That general was surely dead, his bones turned to dust.

 

As if aware of his thoughts, the celestial being shook his head: “You have lived in the mortal world; you should know the principle that a high-ranking official might be a threat to his superior. The general did die, but not a peaceful death—he was executed by slow slicing.”

 

Yi Mo frowned, showing rare interest: “I remember the ruler of that era was very fond of him.”

 

“Well, the old emperor trusted him as a loyal subject, but after the old emperor died and the new emperor ascended, the world changed, and he did not cater to the new emperor’s tastes. How could he not die?”

 

Yi Mo thought for a moment and then fell silent.

 

“You are smart; you must know my intention in saying all this. The demon we need to deal with is that general.” The celestial being paused, his tone tinged with melancholy: “The entire family of over a hundred people, including distant relatives, was sent to the execution ground. All the old and young were executed, and he was only finally executed after two days of slow slicing, watching his family’s heads fall one by one. After his death, his resentment was immense; the execution ground was covered with dark clouds, thunder, and lightning. The resentment of over three hundred relatives condensed together, with him leading them, returned to guard the frontier… You know, he was originally a general on the battlefield, victorious in all his battles, and his hands were stained with heavy bloodshed. This time, gathering the resentment of his relatives, returning to the battlefield, naturally emptied all the accumulated resentment from decades… thus becoming a demon.”

 

The celestial being glanced sideways at the silent Yi Mo, paused, and then continued: “You have some connection with him. You borrowed his demonic energy to cross your tribulation, and then he sent a little demon to steal your skin. If it weren’t for my disciple passing by, that little demon would have used your skin to create a treasure for himself. Today, if he were wearing your shed skin… I truly wouldn’t have been able to do anything about him.”

 

Yi Mo listened, snorting coldly: “Your disciple kept my skin without returning it, and the one who took it was even worse. Wearing my skin, I don’t know how much trouble he’s caused me. The other day, I just recovered the snake’s shed skin, and your disciple’s thirteenth-generation descendant came after me with your purple cauldron, wanting to catch me…” Shaking his head, Yi Mo said, “If I hadn’t seen that cauldron was yours, I would have destroyed it.”

 

The celestial being was somewhat embarrassed by Yi Mo’s comments and could only laugh awkwardly: “Go ahead and destroy it. As long as you help me deal with that demon, whether you destroy that small cauldron or even my observation platform, it’s fine. I just fear you find it troublesome and are reluctant to act.” At this point, he suddenly brightened up, pointing at Yi Mo’s nose and saying: “You, this snake, have stayed here for so many years, and I’ve found all the demons scattered among the masses, but you are the easiest to find… If you don’t help me, who will?”

 

He began to act shamelessly.

 

Yi Mo turned and walked away.

 

The celestial being followed closely.

 

Yi Mo followed wherever he went, for three days and nights. Even when Yi Mo rested, he would sit by and chatter endlessly. This snake was his creation and naturally understood his temperament. Yi Mo was most annoyed by incessant nagging, especially when the same phrase was repeated over and over, which could provoke his rare temper to the point of wanting to slash someone with a knife.

 

Fortunately, although there were distinctions between immortals and demons, their cultivation had only differed minutely after two thousand years. Thus, he was not afraid of Yi Mo attacking him, as no matter how he was attacked, it would end in a draw.

 

Yi Mo was also aware of this, and being nagged for three days was his limit of patience.

 

Given the recent calm, Shen Qingxuan had become more mischievous, often finding ways to trouble him, such as asking for osmanthus wine from ten miles away in the dead of night. It was better to go with this unruly immortal to avoid the unbearable nagging.

 

As for Shen Qingxuan down the mountain—sending a few small things or helping with minor tasks was just a trifling matter for him, a gesture of courtesy in the mortal world. Later, when they had their intimate moment, Yi Mo always considered him in his actions.

 

Now, Shen Qingxuan had taken a concubine in his residence and was about to marry, and the past should be erased. The mundane life was the one Shen Qingxuan was meant to lead.

 

There was no need to grant any further indulgence simply because of their previous intimacy. After the trial, he only needed to restore Shen Qingxuan’s ability to walk and could completely sever ties.

 

Yi Mo had no regrets or reluctance about ceasing relations with Shen Qingxuan. This had been his plan since the first time he saved him.

 

Unexpectedly, Shen Qingxuan had developed other intentions and wanted to be entangled with him.

 

Humans, ultimately driven by greed, did not understand that a demon’s life was exceedingly long, and after cultivating immortality, it became even longer. In such a prolonged life, Yi Mo had witnessed too many joys and sorrows and was already indifferent to worldly matters.

 

He had grown accustomed to this detached observation, with no desire to participate.

 

But since Shen Qingxuan proposed establishing this relationship, he had already given his warnings—demons and humans are on different paths. Despite the warnings, Shen Qingxuan remained persistent, so he accepted it without issue.

 

After all, he was a thousand-year-old snake demon, with ample patience and time. Once they established a physical relationship, he only needed to wait for Shen Qingxuan to become impatient and end the relationship himself. Yi Mo knew it was just a matter of time, so he remained steadfast and unwavering. It didn’t take long; in fact, if carefully analyzed, after their intimate encounter, Shen Qingxuan had already descended the mountain and planned to take a concubine and marry. The thought of severing ties had already formed.

 

If it weren’t for Xu Ming Shi intervening, he wouldn’t have inadvertently received Shen Qingxuan’s favor. Although he never mentioned it, the demon-slaying cauldron was of no use to him, but Shen Qingxuan had seized the opportunity to act. This favor he had no choice but to accept.

 

Their friendly relationship continued. From beginning to end, he remained an outsider, observing coldly.

 

Even though the two were not far apart in recent days, neither had suggested meeting. Recently, they had not spoken at all. It was time to completely erase this relationship.

 

When descending the mountain to slay demons, Yi Mo set out immediately without thinking about asking the person below to wait for him. Indeed, he hadn’t considered it. After all, times had changed; Shen Qingxuan was no longer the solitary figure waiting for his company in the mountains but was now comfortably living with a beautiful concubine and about to have heirs. They had also actively cut off communication, which was best.

 

Yi Mo left just like that.

 

Shen Qingxuan grew thinner day by day on the mountain. Every day upon waking, he looked more haggard than the day before. Gazing at the falling snowflakes, he stubbornly waited. Yet the fire in his eyes grew dimmer and dimmer.

 

Nothing in this world is more torturous than waiting. It wears down the human heart.

 

Almost two months had passed, and Yi Mo still had not returned.

 

Footsteps stumbled through the wind and snow, crunching through the snow. A figure in gray burst through the small courtyard door and rushed in. Upon entering, he saw the pale face in the open window, framed by thick fox fur, looking as if it was to be wrapped up in the fur. The gaze was unfocused, showing no reaction to the commotion.

 

“Master!” The servant who rushed in had a trembling voice, his eyes reddened by the snowflakes. He panted heavily, wiping the snow from his face, and said word by word, “Something has happened!”

 

Shen Qingxuan’s distant expression seemed to be jolted. He blinked, shifted his gaze, still motionless in his cloak, but looked at him.

 

“Madam requests you return immediately…” The servant swallowed, “Madam said that Xiao Tao fell and the child could not be saved.”

 

Shen Qingxuan’s once-still eyes flickered and finally fully came to his senses. Perhaps the best life experience was at this moment, as the maidservants noticed their master’s face finally showed some emotion, though it was shock, grief, and pain. It made Shen Qingxuan look less like a living corpse.

 

Shen Qingxuan was silent for a moment, moved his fingers, and made a gesture.

 

The gesture said: Go home!

 

After a brief moment of sorrow, Shen Qingxuan gradually calmed down in the swaying carriage.

 

The ominous premonition that had been lingering for two months had finally come true. He had been waiting for this ill omen to manifest, and now that it had arrived, there was a sense of relief as if the dust had settled. The reality was not that Yi Mo had encountered misfortune but that his unborn child, just three months old, was lost.

 

The Shen residence was shrouded in sorrowful clouds.

 

The baby boy had already been born, and Xiao Tao was bleeding profusely, with no end to the blood flow.

 

Shen Qingxuan’s wheelchair stopped outside the side room in the southern courtyard, amidst a faint smell of blood. It did not advance any further.

 

Shen’s mother opened the courtyard door, leaving behind the anxious and chaotic scene inside. She walked out with red eyes and said, “I thought it was just a minor fetal disturbance, that some medicine and careful attention would suffice, so I didn’t disturb you. But despite a whole night of effort, we still couldn’t save them… You’re out of luck; Xiao Tao probably won’t make it either… Don’t go in… Your health is fragile, and you can’t withstand the misfortune of death…”

 

Shen Qingxuan remained motionless, staring at the closed courtyard door with an unusual silence.

 

Although he had always been taciturn, his silence at this moment made Shen’s mother uneasy. Looking at her son, she didn’t know how to console him. Concubines could be replaced, children could be born again; it wasn’t worth being devastated and harming one’s health. But Shen Qingxuan’s face showed no hint of sorrow, and she had no idea what he was thinking.

 

Mother and son looked at each other amidst the falling snow. Eventually, Shen Qingxuan turned his wheelchair around. Soon, a servant came forward and pushed him away. Shen’s mother watched the gradually fading wheel tracks in the snow, thinking perhaps this was fate.

 

The snow fell heavily, blanketing everything in a ghastly white, covering all despair.

 

Yi Mo had not returned.

 

Shen Qingxuan opened the almanac and circled the date with a red brush dipped in cinnabar. He stared at it for a long time, then lifted his thin, almost skeletal hand. He removed the fox fur cloak from his shoulders and reached towards his chest, taking out the red bead from around his neck. He rubbed it with his fingers, showing affection and reluctance.

 

Then he began to pull. He grasped the bead, lifting it from his neck, pulling it taut, sawing it through, forcing the golden thread into the flesh, into the veins, into the bones.

 

Shen Qingxuan made no sound, exerting all his strength to pull the golden thread bit by bit, stretching it into a noose of death.

 

Blood began to seep from the wound, dyeing the golden thread red. The fresh blood flowed along the thin thread, gradually soaking Shen Qingxuan’s hand, spreading along the lines, dripping through his fingers, and finally coating the entire red bead with a sticky, slippery mess.

 

Another bloodied smell emerged amidst the room’s stench.

 

Shen Qingxuan opened his eyes, his gaze fixed through the window’s lattice on the man in black robes across from him.

 

Yi Mo was frowning, extending a hand toward him. The hand, with distinct bones and strong fingers, was also smeared with blood.

 

Shen Qingxuan looked at him for a long time, as if he did not recognize him. His gaze was dazed, as if he hadn’t seen the extended hand, murmuring to himself, “This bead can’t be removed.”

 

“Why remove it?” Yi Mo asked, his voice cold.

 

A deep, pleasant voice. Shen Qingxuan, in a daze, took a while to respond, “To return it to you.”

 

“Why return it to me?” Yi Mo continued, standing there, neither approaching nor stepping away.

 

Shen Qingxuan did not answer, seemingly not hearing the question. He merely stared at Yi Mo, as if he couldn’t look enough.

 

“Yi Mo.”

 

The force in his hands had stopped without him realizing it. Shen Qingxuan seemed to regain his senses, letting go of the bloodied bead and extending his hand. “Come hold me.”

 

The blood-stained fingers naturally lifted in front of Yi Mo, suspended in mid-air, with drops of blood falling to the ground, fingers slightly spread, joints curled, a posture of despair and bloodiness.

 

Yi Mo had returned.