Encountering a Snake - Chapter 27

The New Year’s feast was sumptuous. A variety of delicacies covered the round table, glistening under the candlelight, vibrant in color, and steaming hot, making everyone’s mouth water. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and well-wishes, a lively and joyous scene fitting for a reunion dinner. Everyone at the table wore smiles.

Shen Qingxuan had always been mindful of his health, perhaps having learned from his long illness. He never ate too much at any meal and always maintained a balanced diet of meat and vegetables, occasionally sipping a little wine to improve circulation. This regimen naturally became his way of life. But tonight, caught up in the festive mood, he let his usual restraint go. He ate little, but drank a lot, joining in the rounds of toasts and well-wishes with family and friends, drinking heartily.

Yi Mo ate very little but also had a few drinks. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the people at the table, and because of Shen Qingxuan, he even knew them fairly well. Since they raised their cups to toast him, Yi Mo didn’t refuse and drank them all.

Everyone was dressed in their finest festive attire. Though the colors of their robes weren’t particularly dazzling, they exuded an understated luxury. The green was as deep as jade, with hints of purple, and the blue was like clear lake water, with a subtle sheen. Such colors weren’t the kind that could be made by an ordinary dye shop. Who knows how many silkworms had been harvested to produce the silk, how much thread had been spun and woven, and how many herbs were used to dye the fabric. After that, the cloth was tailored into robes by skilled hands and embroidered with the utmost care.

Despite all this exquisite craftsmanship, no one could outshine Yi Mo, who wore a simple black robe and didn’t even bother tying his hair into a crown.

His hair was loose, and his expression indifferent as he sat at the table. Though he said little and only drank, his every movement exuded an extraordinary air.

No one knew his origins, nor did anyone dare to ask.

Over the past days, people had only dared to indirectly ask Shen Qingxuan about Yi Mo’s background.

Shen Qingxuan had simply said, “A remarkable person,” and offered no further explanation.

Shen’s father, having traveled far and wide in his younger days, had seen much of the world and possessed an open mind. He could tell that Yi Mo was no ordinary person, but seeing how well he got along with his son, he didn’t bother with the formalities. Throughout the banquet, he frequently raised his glass and toasted Yi Mo, yet never asked any probing questions. Laughter occasionally drifted over from the adjoining room, where the women and children were gathered, adding to the festivity of the night.

As the night grew deeper, the cold became more intense. Several maids brought in seven or eight braziers and placed them around the room. They cracked the windows open slightly, cleared away the dishes, laid out dried fruits and snacks, and refilled the teacups with warm tea before quietly leaving. The women and children retired to their rooms, leaving only the men to keep watch through the night.

The meal may have been finished, but the drinking was far from over, and the conversation even less so.

On this New Year’s Eve, a group of men stayed up to keep vigil, naturally discussing a wide range of topics. They started with politics, talking about the current emperor. It was well known that the emperor was a wise ruler, but someone interjected that while the emperor was virtuous, he was perhaps too soft-hearted, as the crown prince had yet to be named, leading to fierce infighting within the inner palace.

The person who made this remark had drunk quite a bit and used the phrase “fierce infighting,” which caused everyone at the table to laugh. The struggle for the throne was one of the most brutal affairs in the world, involving bloodshed between family members. To call it “fierce infighting” seemed comically inappropriate.

Shen’s father shook his head and had the man who misspoke drink three penalty cups, before raising his own glass and steering the conversation toward tales of strange and unusual events. Since he had started the topic, naturally, he was the first to speak. On this festive night, everyone was tipsy, the flickering candlelight and the warmth in the room making them all feel a bit languid. Although the atmosphere was pleasant, it wasn’t particularly lively. Shen’s father thought for a moment and began to recount an old story from his past:

Years ago, he had personally led his trading caravan, as he often did, traveling across the country and sightseeing along the way. One year, while following their usual route, they were caught in a torrential downpour and were forced to seek shelter in a rundown temple. The rain was relentless, lasting through the night, leaving them trapped with nothing to do but wait. At dawn the next day, they opened the temple doors, fed the horses, and prepared to resume their journey. Just as they were ready to leave, a man dressed in all black, wearing a bamboo hat with a veil covering his face, suddenly emerged from the temple. Everyone was taken aback by the man’s sudden appearance, and there was something eerie about him, so no one dared to approach or ask where he had come from. The man stood at the temple entrance for a while, then made a series of mysterious gestures. Following that, eight or nine other people, all dressed in black and similarly veiled, filed out of the temple in perfect order. The lead man gave a respectful bow to Shen’s father and his men before leading the group away.

At this point, someone at the table asked, “Did you not see them in the temple the night before?”

Shen’s father waved his hand, signaling them to listen to the rest of the story. He explained that they had been in such a hurry to escape the storm the previous night that they hadn’t thoroughly examined their surroundings. The group in black had likely arrived before them, hiding in the temple all along.

Shen’s father paused, stroking his beard, and said, “At the time, we thought this was just a coincidence, but two years later, I encountered the same man again in the same temple, with the same group of people. My attendants were too frightened to enter. Do you know why?”

Seeing the puzzled expressions of the others, Shen’s father laughed heartily and said, “You’ve all heard of the southern border’s secret art—corpse driving.”

At these final words, most of the people at the table shivered, instantly sobering up halfway.

Shen Qingxuan hadn’t expected to hear such a topic on New Year’s Eve. He froze for a moment before saying, “I know a story, too. I read it in a book, but it might not be appropriate for tonight—it’s a bit ominous.”

The men at the table, emboldened by drink and eager for more excitement, insisted that he share it.

Shen Qingxuan had no choice but to raise his cup and say, “Very well. I’ll spoil the mood, so I’ll first punish myself with a drink.” After finishing his cup, he picked up a peanut and began to tell his tale: “My story is about peanuts.”

And so began another eerie tale from a different dynasty, about a village that grew peanuts, and a tragic series of events involving a kidnapped child, betrayal, and revenge. In the end, every peanut harvested from that cursed land bore the faces of the villagers who had perished.

When Shen Qingxuan finished his story, the table was silent. Most of the men were staring uneasily at the bowl of peanuts on the table, their faces filled with dread. Helplessly, Shen Qingxuan took three more penalty drinks. Shen’s father, feeling uncomfortable himself, drank a cup of hot wine and looked over at his son. Shen Qingxuan smiled faintly, though his eyes remained distant as he observed the reactions of the people around him, carefully noting every detail. He was so engrossed in his observations that he didn’t notice his father watching him.

Shen’s father looked at his son, and for some reason, he suddenly felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity. It was as if his son had grown up overnight, now seeming both close and distant. 

This feeling was unsettling, but Shen’s father shook his head and dismissed it from his mind. He picked up a peanut dish, chuckling as he offered it to the others, saying, “Come on, don’t be shy. These aren’t cursed peanuts.” The joke lightened the mood, and the men laughed, though with a hint of lingering discomfort.

Others at the table told a few more stories, most of which involved romantic entanglements or legends of fox spirits and ghosts, all with happy endings. Each man shared his tale, except Yi Mo, who remained silent. Eventually, all eyes turned to him, expecting him to contribute a story of his own.

Yi Mo set down his cup, thought for a moment, and then said, “I don’t have any stories to tell, so I’ll continue where the last one left off…”

The people at the table found it amusing. After all, when a story is finished, it’s usually the end of it—there’s no reason to continue. But since he offered, they figured they might as well listen. So, everyone clamored for him to continue the story of the fox spirit repaying her debt.

Yi Mo said, “You all think it’s good that the fox spirit is loyal, but I don’t agree. Anyone deeply invested in feelings will eventually be hurt by them. If you don’t believe me, I’ll continue the story—”

The fox spirit repaid the scholar for his kindness and, filled with admiration for him, became his wife. She turned into a virtuous wife and mother, living a fulfilling life with him for decades. Everything seemed perfect. However, as the years passed, the scholar grew old, his hair turned gray, and their children grew up, while the fox spirit remained as beautiful as ever, untouched by time. The scholar, knowing his days were numbered, advised the fox spirit to take care of herself after his death. His last words were, “If fate allows, we can be husband and wife again in the next life.” Being devoted, the fox spirit was supposed to return to the mountains for cultivation after his death, but she couldn’t bear to leave the man with whom she had shared so many years. After burying him, she did not return to the mountains but instead roamed the human world, seeking her husband’s reincarnation to continue their bond.

She searched for a hundred years. During this time, exorcist monks and demon-hunting Daoists tried to capture her, seeking to take her inner core as a tool for their magic or to rid the world of evil in their pursuit of fame. The fox spirit could no longer live in peace, constantly fighting off monks and Daoists, barely escaping but sustaining serious injuries. Knowing her wounds were severe and that she couldn’t remain any longer, she had no choice but to retreat to the mountains to heal, even though she sensed that her husband’s reincarnation might be nearby. After another ten years of recovery, she came down the mountain again to resume her search. When she finally found her husband’s reincarnation, he was already married to someone else, living a happy life with his wife, deeply in love. The fox spirit was heartbroken but refused to give up. She approached him multiple times, telling him that she was his true wife. However, the scholar did not recognize her and dismissed her as a madwoman. The fox spirit, truly driven mad, repeatedly sought him out, telling him the same story over and over. The scholar, while finding her beauty alluring, began to have secret meetings with her behind his wife’s back. Eventually, his wife caught them and, in despair, confronted them, threatening to end her life. The scholar, though captivated by the fox spirit’s beauty, had already had his way with her and decided to abandon her, returning to his wife.

The fox spirit, abandoned, still refused to give up. She eventually irritated the scholar so much that, when the monks came looking for her again, he teamed up with them to capture her. 

Caught in the demon-binding net by the monk, the fox spirit pleaded bitterly, her tears flowing. But the monk cast a spell, revealing her true form. The scholar, who had previously doubted that she was a demon, now believed it, and in his terror, he grabbed a wooden stick and began beating the white fox viciously. The fox cried out in agony as her internal organs were shattered, her eyes streaming with blood tears, until she finally died full of resentment.

Centuries of cultivation and spiritual power ended with her being beaten to death by a mere mortal. And the one who killed her was her own husband.

Yi Mo chuckled softly, “The happy ending you all imagine is only for the present moment. Who knows what happens after?”

After hearing this, the group either sighed or lamented, their expressions full of regret and sorrow. Only Shen Qingxuan sat still, silent and pale.

At that moment, a maid knocked softly at the door and said quietly, “Master, the time has come. It’s time to set off the fireworks.”

The guests all happily left their seats and went outside.

Shen Qingxuan remained seated, while Yi Mo stood up.

Shen Qingxuan watched his back for a long time before saying, “If there really is a next life, don’t come looking for me. Even if you do, I won’t recognize you.”

Yi Mo turned back and responded, “Of course.”

Only then did Shen Qingxuan smile, though the faint hint of melancholy hidden in that smile was well concealed.

Old Master Shen, stepping outside, realized his son hadn’t come with them. Remembering he was still seated, he quickly returned, only to overhear this conversation. His thoughts became completely disordered, and he stood there in a daze. Just then, Yi Mo walked out, and the two met eyes. For a moment, they could see everything clearly in each other’s expressions. Yi Mo was taken aback, then frowned slightly before relaxing his face and saying nothing as he brushed past Old Master Shen.

Old Master Shen watched him disappear in a flash among the bright lanterns and suddenly understood everything. There was no longer any hesitation in his heart.

By this time, Shen Qingxuan had wheeled himself out as well, puzzled by his father standing at the door. He called out, “Father?”

His father responded absentmindedly and went over to push the wheelchair. They said nothing as they watched the midnight fireworks explode into the sky, blooming into brilliant colors.