Encountering a Snake - Chapter 32

Year after year passed, and each year felt no different from the last. This was how Shen Qingxuan felt, and when he asked Yi Mo, Yi Mo shared the same sentiment. They still followed the same routine, occasionally separating for a day or two, three to five days, or even a month or two, but they had never been apart for longer than that. After a brief separation, Yi Mo would return to the large Shen residence, to the small courtyard on the southern side. At night, he would hold the man who had untied his hair crown and asked him tenderly whether he would marry him.

 

Life moved slowly, like a tranquil surface of water, with time flowing quietly beneath it. Only occasionally, when he turned his eyes slightly, would Shen Qingxuan realize how time had passed. The noisy child who once stood beside them had suddenly grown up.

 

Xiao Bao stood next to him, already able to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

 

After dealing with family matters, Shen Qingxuan returned to his courtyard with a warming jar in his sleeve. Xiao Bao was reading inside the house, his voice loud enough to be heard even outside. Shen Qingxuan closed the door, handed the warming jar and his cloak to a maid, and then walked over to pat Xiao Bao’s head, asking softly, “Where’s your father?”

 

“He’s holding the hand warmer while reading, but I think he’s probably asleep,” Xiao Bao replied, lowering his voice. He raised his head, his brows and eyes handsome and bright, already hinting at the elegance he would possess as an adult. After glancing at his father, Xiao Bao added, “I suspect he has turned into a snake.”

 

Shen Qingxuan chuckled, “He’s asleep and still so loud.”

 

“If I stop, he’ll wake up,” Xiao Bao stuck out his tongue. Sure enough, a rustling sound came from behind the screen, followed by Yi Mo’s voice, sounding drowsy, “Stop talking.”

 

Shen Qingxuan walked over and lifted the bed curtain, finding the bedding spread evenly, except for a slight bump in the middle—Yi Mo had indeed transformed back into his human form while asleep. He reached in and lifted the big snake from the bedding, saying, “Don’t sleep; you don’t need to hibernate.” He raised his voice and called out to the other side of the screen, “Xiao Bao, stop reading too; it’s the Lantern Festival. Let’s go to the night market tonight.”

 

Yi Mo lazily replied with a single sound of agreement. Xiao Bao closed his book, beaming with joy. Shen Qingxuan smiled, his fingers weaving through Yi Mo’s hair. The charcoal fire was lively in the room, creating a tranquility unlike any earthly realm.

 

On the Lantern Festival, the streets were filled with red lanterns, and the atmosphere was one of peace and joy. Xiao Bao navigated through the stalls, playful yet much more composed than in his childhood; he no longer ran around recklessly. The streets were bright with colors, and Shen Qingxuan stood in front of a stall, studying the riddles hung from the lanterns, which could be taken if guessed correctly. Many people gathered in front of the stall, but upon seeing the two of them, some stepped away. Shen Qingxuan had grown accustomed to this treatment over the years and didn’t mind; instead, he stood in front of Yi Mo, poked his chest, and whispered, “Venomous snake,” then pointed to Xiao Bao, who was watching a shadow puppet show, and added, “Beast.” Finally, he pointed at himself, saying, “A monster that associates with venomous snakes and beasts.” Yi Mo glanced at him for a moment before raising his hand to flick his forehead. This action had become so fluid that he mostly performed it on Xiao Bao. After being flicked, Shen Qingxuan burst into laughter, his joy untamed.

 

The street was filled with various hawkers calling out, with those selling Yuanxiao being the loudest, accompanied by the aroma of glutinous rice boiling, shrouded in a light mist. Shen Qingxuan stopped and pulled Yi Mo to sit down, calling Xiao Bao over, and the three of them waited for their Yuanxiao(Rice Flour Mochi).

 

Yi Mo didn’t enjoy sweet foods, but every year at this time, he would accompany them to eat a bowl of osmanthus and sesame-filled Yuanxiao.

 

The stall owner was a middle-aged man, his face marked by the passage of time. Upon seeing Shen Qingxuan, he added extra Yuanxiao to their bowls. The three of them had more than others. A customer at another table noticed this and protested loudly. The stall owner chuckled, “Young Master Shen and his family have supported my business for twelve years.”

 

Shen Qingxuan looked at Yi Mo in surprise, “Has it really been twelve years?”

 

Yi Mo, sipping the sweet soup, ignored him. In fact, it had been thirteen years. He had accompanied this man for thirteen years of Yuanxiao, guarded thirteen New Year’s Eves, and experienced thirteen seasons of spring and winter.

 

And still, he was not tired.

 

After finishing their Yuanxiao, Shen Qingxuan took out some coins, laying down sixteen copper coins tied with red string on the table. He wished the stall owner good fortune and they continued strolling forward.

 

They paused in front of the shadow puppet stall for a moment, then moved to the pottery stall. Shen Qingxuan stood in front of the chubby clay dolls for a moment, asking Xiao Bao which one he wanted. Xiao Bao looked for a while and pointed to a clay doll, saying, “This one.” It was a clay doll with closed eyes, chubby and round, looking drowsy with its eyes barely open.

 

Shen Qingxuan glanced at Xiao Bao and silently bought the doll. The father and son clutched the doll and moved aside. Shen Qingxuan asked, “Why did you choose this one?”

 

“It looks like dad in winter, sleepy,” Xiao Bao said with a giggle, tucking the doll into his sleeve.

 

Shen Qingxuan turned to look at Yi Mo, who was still picking out dolls at the stall, and fell silent.

 

Yi Mo returned holding a small clay fox, painted with colorful glaze, completely white, curled up into a ball with its chin and nose tucked into its fluffy tail, leaving only a pair of slanted eyes that seemed to smile yet seemed dreamy. It was cunningly cute.

 

Yi Mo poked the fox at Shen Qingxuan’s nose, saying, “You.”

 

Shen Qingxuan replied, “… I’m not like this at all.”

 

“Exactly,” Xiao Bao confirmed.

 

Shen Qingxuan ran over, took a long time to choose, and finally selected a clay puppy, which was stretching its neck to look at the sky, seemingly lost in thought. He placed the dog in front of Xiao Bao’s nose, saying, “You.”

 

Xiao Bao’s mouth fell open in shock, “Dad, this is a dog!”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m not a dog!” I’m a wolf!

 

“Exactly,” Shen Qingxuan patted his head, smiling, “Exactly.”

 

Yi Mo interjected, “Don’t argue. In front of your elders, you are this,” pointing at the little puppy.

 

Xiao Bao was left speechless, tears in his eyes.

 

The three of them continued on, and Shen Qingxuan suddenly murmured, puzzled, “Don’t you think the dolls from that stall owner are getting fatter each year?”

 

Xiao Bao was still entangled between being a puppy or a wolf and didn’t pay attention to the question. Yi Mo was gazing at the dragon dance ahead, uninterested in answering. Shen Qingxuan thought, ah, no one is paying attention to me anymore.

 

Suddenly, he caught sight of a figure out of the corner of his eye, and he stopped, then walked over. Yi Mo and Xiao Bao remained in place, having also seen the person hurrying towards the riverbank, where the lanterns were being released; it was Xiao Bao’s grandmother, Lady Shen. This was why Shen Qingxuan rushed over without saying a word.

 

Xiao Bao’s face darkened slightly, and he quietly asked, “How many years has it been since grandma last saw dad?”

 

Yi Mo didn’t answer. He turned to look ahead and said, “Let’s go watch the acrobatics.”

 

The two of them slowly walked towards the acrobatics bridge.

 

Shen Qingxuan walked quickly through the crowd, weaving through the bustling throng, and as he drew closer to that figure, he suddenly felt something was wrong. At that moment, the hairs on his body stood on end. A sense of vertigo washed over him, accompanied by an icy chill, as if he had returned to the icy caves of his childhood. Shen Qingxuan struggled to open his eyes but saw only darkness.

 

This was the thirteenth year. Shen Qingxuan thought, even though he would think this every day as it passed.

 

Today, he had finally waited for this day. He could no longer wait for Yi Mo.

 

(tl – nooooo😭😭😭)

 

“I don’t have time to wait for you anymore.” Shen Qingxuan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stumble along the wall based on his memory of the street. He leaned against the wall, bent over, and tried to breathe. In that moment, he curled up, remembering his mother who had set out the floating lanterns by the river—still lost, wasn’t she?

 

He didn’t know how long had passed, perhaps a short time, perhaps an eternity. Shen Qingxuan heard Xiao Bao’s voice, anxiously calling out to him: “Daddy, Daddy!”

 

Shen Qingxuan slowly opened his eyes; the market was still the same market, lanterns glittering, shouts ringing out, and amidst the boiling noise, he saw Yi Mo standing ahead with his arms crossed, dressed in black robes, his long black hair cascading down, standing there quietly, looking at him with eyes devoid of life.

 

The entire world fell into silence.

 

Shen Qingxuan raised the corners of his lips into a smile and, supported by Xiao Bao, stood up, walking step by step towards Yi Mo. His footsteps were heavy and dragged, as if he had crossed thousands of mountains and rivers, as if he had walked over the shores of the Sansheng(3 lives) River, as if he were treading on thorns and blades, leaving bloodstains with every step. It was exceptionally painful and difficult to walk.

 

Eventually, he stood before Yi Mo, their eyes meeting.

 

They stared at each other, yet no sound was made.

 

He took Yi Mo’s hand, their palms pressed together, fingers entwined, holding onto each other, and then whispered, “Let’s go home.”

 

His life was being consumed at a rapid pace.

 

Xiao Bao stood at the door every day, silently listening to the movements inside the house. His father worked day and night, handling affairs, starting with accounts, inventorying the family’s shops, fields, tenants, and goods… It had already been five days and nights without rest, as if he wanted to finish everything for the rest of his life in this short time.

 

Xiao Bao no longer knew how long he had stood there; he just stood quietly, no matter the wind or rain. Just like his father inside the house, silently accompanying that person.

 

He had already learned of his origins, and he also knew he would personally send away this person, who, though not related by blood, was dear and beloved.

 

A month later, Shen Qingxuan called him into the house.

 

Inside, the windows were tightly shut, and in the hazy light, Xiao Bao saw his father.

 

Skinny and bony, with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, his once black hair was now mixed with countless strands of white.

 

Xiao Bao choked back his tears, enduring and enduring, but ultimately he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

 

“The matters have been taken care of,” Shen Qingxuan said, as if he had not heard his son’s crying, smiling and saying, “I want to return to the mountain. Will you come with me?”

 

Xiao Bao nodded and walked over to hold his hand.

 

Leaving a few letters on the table, Shen Qingxuan opened the door. A gentle breeze brushed past, and the shadow of the person at the doorway seemed to dissipate into nothingness. The open door slowly closed with a creak, sealing away the love and hate that had once existed in that room.

 

The mountain retreat had been vacant for many years, and Shen Qingxuan sat in the sunlight, nestled against Yi Mo’s chest.

 

“Birth, aging, illness, and death; love and separation; resentment and hatred; desires that cannot be fulfilled.” Shen Qingxuan’s voice was hoarse, weak, and slowly he said, “In this life, I have known only one bitterness.”

 

Yi Mo held him tightly.

 

“Birth, aging, illness, and death are all part of life. The one I love has never left, and those I resent have long been forgotten,” Shen Qingxuan lifted his hand, the veins on the back of his hand prominently showing. His withered hand caressed Yi Mo’s face, his eyes still filled with deep affection, softly saying, “Only unfulfilled desires.”

 

In this life, unfulfilled desires.

 

Shen Qingxuan stroked his face, “It is because of this unfulfilled desire that I have escaped the six sufferings. Yi Mo…” He spoke hurriedly, gasping for breath, and Yi Mo gently patted him on his bony back, soothing him like a child, with careful tenderness.

 

“I like you.”

 

Shen Qingxuan said, closing his eyes and smiling. This was the first time he had ever expressed liking someone, and it was also the only time.

 

“Yi Mo, I like you.”

 

With his eyelids fully shut, Shen Qingxuan softly spoke, and after saying this, he seemed to drift off to sleep, his wrist hanging down, sliding to the side of his body.

 

Yi Mo closed his eyes, holding him tightly, using all his strength as if he wanted to press this frail, dying body into his bones and blood, locking him in a tight embrace. His lips brushed against those white strands of hair, kissing gently.

 

But no one would ever respond to him again.

 

Shen Qingxuan’s will stated that his funeral should be simple, without waiting for Shen Zhen to return, to be buried in the mountain retreat. In a dark cupboard at home lay a wooden box, to be taken along for burial.

 

On the day of the burial, Shen Zhen did return. Father Shen was elderly and bedridden, and Mother Shen had not made an appearance, locked away in the Buddhist hall. Shen Zhen returned to oversee the arrangements. Xu Mingshi also heard the news and arrived just in time on the day of the burial. Shen Zhen followed his brother’s wishes and buried him in the mountain. As for the wooden box, Shen Zhen found it, opened it, and saw some old papers filled with handwriting—some belonged to Shen Qingxuan, while others belonged to another person. They were dialogues and some books, all difficult to find in the present time. It was easy to guess they were gifted by the owner of the other handwriting. There was also a set of spring court palace documents. All of it was collected and placed in the small box, not knowing how many years it had been hidden.

 

Shen Zhen placed that box in his brother’s coffin.

 

Once the coffin was buried and the rituals completed, everyone dispersed, leaving only Shen Zhen alone, kneeling before the grave, weeping softly.

 

Just as he was lost in sorrow, someone appeared beside him. Shen Zhen looked up, seeing a man he had never met before; with just one glance, he recognized his identity.

 

“You…”

 

Yi Mo looked down at him, his gaze moving to the cold stone tablet, and he slowly said, “I will take Shen Jue with me. If there is anything in the future, you can come to the mountain to find me.”

 

“Are you talking about Xiao Bao?” Shen Zhen was momentarily stunned, quickly replying, “But he is a descendant of the Shen family.”

 

“I promised him to take Shen Jue until he reaches adulthood.”

 

“…If it is brother’s wish…” Shen Zhen said with red eyes, lowering his head, “How could I go against my brother’s wishes?”

 

Yi Mo crouched down, looking at the stone tablet before him, his eyes devoid of sorrow or joy, merely gazing. Finally, he extended his hand to caress the cold stone tablet. On it was Shen Qingxuan’s name, a name that had always been warm and could be held in one’s embrace for warmth, but at this moment, it had become colder than him.

 

Yi Mo stood up and left.

 

Shen Zhen remained kneeling in place, still crying.

 

Only when he wiped his tears did he look up, his eyes catching an unusual sight on the stone tablet. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a new line of text added at the corner.

 

The characters were well-formed, inscribed with:

 

**Widow Yi Mo**

 

(Volume One – End)

 

TLNote -I cried my tears won’t stop my little baby is gone