Encountering a Snake - Chapter 4

Shen Qingxuan had carefully weighed it in his heart. Since this serpent could pull him back from the brink of death, it should be no great feat for it to make him walk, jump, and speak loudly like a normal person.

 

But these were difficult words to say.

 

To put it plainly, Shen Qingxuan had, for no reason, spilled a cup of hot tea on the serpent. Though he had hovered on the edge of death, he had ultimately survived. The price for his survival was that he must now help the serpent pass its tribulation—after all, his life was blessed with good fortune and wealth. Shen Qingxuan didn’t entirely disbelieve the serpent’s words, but it was hard to trust them completely.

 

Up until now, the transaction between man and serpent had been fair.

 

He spilled a cup of hot tea on it; it bit him in return, as was only fair. It saved his life, and he helped it pass its tribulation—a fair exchange.

 

The request for a reward had been half in jest. Yet he had to admit that it was tinged with greed, hoping to extract more from the serpent.

 

Thinking first of oneself in any situation is human nature. Despite his hopes, Shen Qingxuan, as a scholar, felt a deep sense of shame as he wrote down his request.

 

Unexpectedly, the demon responded so directly, agreeing to what he had secretly desired without waiting for him to say it aloud.

 

Shen Qingxuan lowered his head, unable to move.

 

In front of him, the black ink on the white paper was still wet.

 

The only sound in the room was the soft rhythm of Shen Qingxuan’s breathing; nothing else disturbed the air.

 

Shen Qingxuan was at a loss for words, unable to even look at the black words on the white paper, as though afraid to meet them. His face alternated between pale and flushed, his emotions churning.

 

Though he was twenty-seven years old, his life had been fraught with difficulties, giving him more insight and experience than most. But how could he, a mere mortal, compare with a serpent demon who had cultivated for nearly a thousand years?

 

The serpent demon, Yi Mo, had concealed his form from start to finish, not even making a sound during this encounter, communicating with Shen Qingxuan only through writing, his insight as clear as a mirror.

 

Shen Qingxuan was merely a newly sprouted seed, while Yi Mo had long since grown into a towering presence.

 

The tea had long gone cold.

 

Shen Qingxuan finally lifted his head, staring into the empty space before him for a long time before slowly picking up the brush and writing, word by word, beside the neat handwriting: “Thank you.”

 

At this moment, these were the only words he could muster. Anything more would have been superfluous.

 

Shortly after, the wolf-hair brush, manipulated by someone else, returned to the brush washer. Shen Qingxuan watched it intently, knowing that this conversation was over and that Yi Mo was about to leave.

 

Indeed, within the blink of an eye, the refreshing fragrance in the room began to fade.

 

Shen Qingxuan sat dazed for a while longer before reaching out to gather the scattered sheets of paper. He carefully arranged them in the order of their conversation, then sorted them once more before placing them on his lap. He wheeled himself to the bed, where he carefully stored the papers in a wooden box.

 

In the courtyard, the apricot blossoms had already bloomed and fallen.

 

Buds of peach blossoms were beginning to emerge, and within two days, under the bright sun, they burst into bloom, unable to wait any longer.

 

Shen Qingxuan, back in the sunshine, asked to be wheeled to the peach tree, smiling as he sat beneath it.

 

His thick cloak had been put away, leaving him in only a cape. He had shed his padded jacket, wearing instead a long robe of pale jade color.

 

The servants, still tense, patrolled the garden, checking every nook and cranny, fearful that another snake might appear and startle them.

 

But Shen Qingxuan paid no attention to this, instead tilting his head back to admire the vibrant peach blossoms on the branches above. Occasionally, a light breeze would send the delicate petals fluttering down, landing on his face, deepening his smile.

 

As the peach blossoms finished their bloom, the roses climbing the trellis began to bud eagerly, as if afraid of missing the beauty of spring. Shen Qingxuan continued to have himself wheeled to sit beside the roses.

 

His request so startled the servant that he exclaimed, “Young master, you mustn’t, you mustn’t!”

 

The roses grew along the trellis, their leaves so dense they formed an almost impenetrable green wall. Who knew what kind of creatures might be hiding within?

 

But the servant, being only a servant, could do nothing against his master’s wishes. Seeing his efforts to dissuade Shen Qingxuan fail, he hurried to sprinkle some realgar powder around the area to ward off insects and snakes. Shen Qingxuan, helpless, let him mix the floral scent with the realgar, making a mess of things.

 

Shen Qingxuan’s days passed slowly in the rhythm of the changing seasons and blooming flowers.

 

Perhaps because of some spell Yi Mo had cast while cleansing his body of the snake venom, Shen Qingxuan’s health had improved slightly, and he was no longer as prone to catching colds.

 

But he remained weak, and after spending too much time in the courtyard, he would become fatigued.

 

The servant who had cared for him since childhood had developed a keen eye; as soon as Shen Qingxuan showed any sign of weariness, he would wheel him back indoors and serve him ginseng tea.

 

Every so often, Yi Mo would reappear.

 

As always, he kept his form hidden and made no sound, communicating with Shen Qingxuan only through writing.

 

Sometimes, Shen Qingxuan would prepare a table of wine and dishes, setting them out in the room. On such occasions, he would express an invitation, and Yi Mo would always show up as expected.

 

Though they had never formally agreed on anything, Yi Mo never failed to arrive.

 

However, Shen Qingxuan had never seen Yi Mo’s face and still had no idea what this reticent, aloof serpent demon looked like.

 

Sometimes he would speculate, without malice, whether Yi Mo was too ugly to reveal his true form.

 

But whenever this thought arose, Shen Qingxuan would quickly suppress it. Yi Mo was a serpent, and a demon at that. Even if his true form was hideous, he could easily take on a pleasing appearance.

 

That evening, after bathing, Shen Qingxuan set out paper and brush, sitting at the table and waiting.

 

As time passed, Shen Qingxuan gradually discerned some patterns in Yi Mo’s behavior. Every half-month, the serpent demon would visit the hot spring at the mountain’s summit. On his way back, passing by the secluded estate, Yi Mo would stop in for a short visit—although Shen Qingxuan was never certain whether Yi Mo actually sat down while exchanging words with him through brush and ink.

 

Everything was just his conjecture.

 

Tonight was another one of those nights when the serpent demon would visit the hot spring, and Shen Qingxuan was waiting.

 

To pass the time, Shen Qingxuan picked up a book to read. Recently, everyone in the manor had noticed that their young master’s temperament had changed dramatically, along with his tastes. He had abandoned the ancient texts and classics he used to favor and instead sought out more unusual books. Titles like *Night Tales from Mountain Villages*, *Strange Stories*, and *Miscellaneous Talks*—all filled with tales of fox spirits, flower ghosts, and stories of serpents, insects, tigers, and wolves transforming into humans—had become his new favorites. He even sought out those fantastical legends circulating among the common folk, reading them avidly every day.

 

The servants were baffled.

 

Although Shen Qingxuan didn’t take the stories in those books seriously, he found the crude, yet amusing, folk tales intriguing and continued reading them.

 

When Yi Mo arrived, Shen Qingxuan was holding a book, silently laughing to himself. What amused him was a vulgar little poem in the book, written in such a coarse manner that it made him chuckle.

 

Sensing the familiar presence, Shen Qingxuan finally set down his book and picked up his brush, writing: “You’re here.”

 

A single character quickly appeared beside his words: “Yes.”

 

Shen Qingxuan wrote again: “I’ve been reading some messy books lately.”

 

Yi Mo replied: “I know.”

 

After a moment of thought, Shen Qingxuan wrote: “Are the things described in those books true?”

 

Yi Mo answered: “Half true, half false.”

 

Shen Qingxuan was taken aback, and quickly wrote: “So it’s true, after all.”

 

Then, with a faint smile, he teasingly continued: “In those books, the spirits and monsters are both good and evil. I wonder, Mr. Yi, are you good or evil?”

 

After writing this, Shen Qingxuan felt he might have been too forward. Though the two had gradually become familiar with each other, their relationship was still quite superficial. Even now, he had never met the serpent demon in person and knew nothing about his past.

 

Their interactions, despite the frequent exchange of words, remained largely superficial.

 

Shen Qingxuan was anxious, knowing that his question had been abrupt and overly intrusive. If Yi Mo were to take offense and leave, he would have no one but himself to blame.

 

This serpent demon had saved him and made him a promise, yet he had dared to ask, “Are you good or evil?”

 

How foolish!

 

Shen Qingxuan thought that Yi Mo might disappear because of this, and he couldn’t quite identify the feeling that stirred within him.

 

In this quiet, secluded mountain at night, with the warm glow of the small room, the soft rustling of paper, the lingering scent of ink, and the quiet conversation through brushstrokes—could all of this vanish because of one absurd question?

 

He found himself reluctant to let it go.

 

Shen Qingxuan froze in place, staring at the empty space in front of him, not daring to move.

 

What seemed like a long time was actually very brief. Soon, the ink brush lifted into the air again, writing beside Shen Qingxuan’s neat characters: “How do you define good and evil?” After a slight pause, a small question mark was added.

 

The color returned to Shen Qingxuan’s face, and he was relieved that Yi Mo wasn’t angry with him.

 

But as he stared at those words, his brows furrowed. The simple question left him speechless.

 

After a moment of thought, Shen Qingxuan wrote: “I don’t know. How do you distinguish between them?”

 

The brush hesitated briefly before slowly writing down six characters: “Whoever treats me well is good.”

 

Shen Qingxuan stared at those six characters, unable to respond for a long time.

 

After a long silence, Shen Qingxuan picked up the brush again and wrote:

 

“What if someone first mistreats me, deceives me, harms me, and later changes their mind, shows pity, and loves me? What then?”

 

Yi Mo quickly added beside his writing:

 

“Mistreat her, harm her, then pity her, love her.”

 

Shen Qingxuan bit his lip and wrote four more characters beside that line: “An eye for an eye,” and then raised his eyebrows, looking at the empty space with a faint, amused smile.

 

This exchange of words lasted longer than usual. Shen Qingxuan, though weak and exhausted, forced himself to stay up until midnight before finally putting away the paper and brush. As soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep, not waking until noon the next day.

 

After drinking some ginseng tea and regaining his energy, Shen Qingxuan returned to his usual pastime of idling away the hours in the sunlight. He sat quietly, gazing at the bright red pomegranate flowers in the distance, but his mind was anything but calm, imagining the same time next year, when he might share a drink under those crimson blooms with the “kind” serpent demon who had shown him such kindness.

 

Just one more year.

 

Only one year remained until Yi Mo’s heavenly tribulation.

 

— “Whoever treats me well is good.”

 

So simple.

 

Shen Qingxuan’s lips curled into a smile, pure and warm, like a spring breeze.