Encountering a Snake - Chapter 5
This year has seen an abundance of rain. In previous years, rain was never this frequent during this season, but this year has been strange—half a month has passed, with only two days of sunshine.
Shen Qingxuan had long since learned how to pass the time. Trapped indoors, he was not anxious but instead listened patiently to the rain day after day as he leaned by the window.
The sound of rain hitting the leaves, falling on the eaves, dripping into the courtyard’s ceramic jars… he attentively captured each one with his ears, discerning their subtle differences, finding it rather interesting.
In the courtyard, the vibrant flowers trembled under the rain, their previous dignity gone, yet they exhibited a unique charm. When the mood struck him, Shen Qingxuan would unfold a sheet of paper and paint the rainy scenery, amusing himself.
In the evening, after dinner, he would soak in a warm bath with a faint scent of medicinal herbs until his eyelids grew too heavy to lift. Only then would he ring the bell to call for a servant to help him to bed.
Tonight, it was pouring rain again.
Shen Qingxuan assumed that Yi Mo wouldn’t come, so he went to bed early. But he didn’t fall asleep; instead, he sat up in bed, with a small square table in front of him, on which he had set up a chessboard. He was arranging the pieces according to an ancient chess problem from a book.
The black and white pieces, initially scattered, suddenly formed tight connections under his hand—at times like a thousand troops engaged in fierce battle, at times like a tiger emerging from its cage, striking directly at the center.
Just as he was focused on arranging the pieces, the bed curtains seemed to flutter as if stirred by the wind, lifting a corner slightly.
Shen Qingxuan looked up in surprise, peering through the green gauze.
The room was empty. But Shen Qingxuan knew he had arrived, so he quickly lifted the curtain and waved toward the empty space.
Feeling a chill approaching, Shen Qingxuan hurriedly put away the chess pieces on the table, then took out paper and ink from the wooden cabinet by the bed and wrote: “The wind and rain are fierce, why not come up and sit for a while?”
Shortly after, the large bed shook slightly, and there were marks on the thin blanket pressed beneath the chess table.
The sound of rain pounding outside was loud and incessant. Shen Qingxuan had thought he wouldn’t come, so he was only wearing a white inner robe, the collar askew, his hair disheveled, with the hairpin already removed. His appearance was rather lazy.
Only when Yi Mo sat opposite the chessboard did he realize his impropriety, and he quickly wrote: “I thought you wouldn’t come.” After writing, he looked toward the empty space opposite him, but there was no movement.
Shen Qingxuan was quite surprised. Ever since they had met, Yi Mo, though extremely reserved, had never been impolite—he always responded when asked.
What was the matter today?
As he pondered this, the paper on the table was picked up, and the pen in his hand was taken away by an external force, moved to the opposite side.
Then, words began to appear on the paper: a farewell.
Yi Mo was leaving the mountain, heading elsewhere.
Shen Qingxuan’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this, his composure shattered. He hastily grabbed the pen from the air and snatched the paper, scribbling a hasty inquiry about where he was going and when he would return, completely losing his composure.
The paper and ink were taken from his hands again, and words were written in neat, unhurried strokes. Yi Mo had been searching for something for two hundred years, and recently he had finally found a clue. Naturally, he had to leave the mountain to retrieve it.
Shen Qingxuan finally calmed down.
After a while, his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked what this item was that was so precious that even Yi Mo couldn’t wait to retrieve it.
The pen paused for a moment before two characters appeared: “Shedding skin.”
Shen Qingxuan was dumbfounded.
Perhaps because the object he had sought for so long had finally shown some hope of being found, Yi Mo seemed to be in a good mood. He unfolded the paper again and began to tell the story—over two hundred years ago, after successfully passing his tribulation, Yi Mo had hidden in the mountains to shed his skin, but the shed skin had mysteriously disappeared.
Although Yi Mo didn’t think much of it himself, being a thousand-year-old demon, even his shed skin was no ordinary object. If someone had taken it, it was bound to cause trouble. Thus, he had been searching for it all these years.
Only today had there been a sign of it.
Hearing this, Shen Qingxuan asked more detailed questions, and Yi Mo answered them all without reservation, inevitably bringing up some past events and revealing his origins. Yi Mo didn’t mind sharing this, but Shen Qingxuan, being interested, carefully noted everything.
All along, Shen Qingxuan had only known him as a serpent demon but didn’t know his background or past. Only now did he learn that Yi Mo had become a demon through someone’s guidance and that his homeland was far, far away.
Shen Qingxuan picked up the pen and asked: “Why did you leave your homeland?”
Yi Mo thought for a moment and replied with a single word: “Noisy.”
To humans, a homeland is the root of the soul; to a serpent, it’s merely a place of birth. He was once just an ignorant little snake, sleeping when full, waking in spring, hibernating in winter. Living in a mountain cave, unaware of the world.
At that time, the world was in chaos, with five states and ten nations embroiled in endless wars. Yet, in this chaotic era, a hundred schools of thought contended, with scholars, sages, heroes, and warriors emerging one after another. The era saw an incredible mix of mighty figures, both human and demonic. There were also Taoist cultivators, alchemists, disciples of Maitreya, and various other sects gathering in this turbulent world, creating a vibrant and complex tapestry.
As a small snake, he didn’t understand the chaos of the human world and was content in his corner. But he never expected the flames of war to eventually reach his small green mountain.
The smoke of battle reached the foot of the mountain.
Drums pounded, the sounds of battle were deafening, swords clashed, and blood flowed like rivers. The soldiers returned wrapped in horse hides.
But many more left their bodies on that land, with severed limbs and decapitated heads scattered everywhere.
The excess of bloodshed and the unfulfilled aspirations of the dead eventually gave rise to demons, turning the once-peaceful mountain into a place of constant eerie winds.
At that time, he was still an ignorant little snake.
Where demons appeared, saints and immortals followed.
One day, two Taoists arrived at the foot of the mountain, one of whom was a young disciple, accompanying his master.
It was the time of the awakening of hibernating creatures. The little snake Yi Mo also emerged from his cave, gliding through the grass and trees in search of food. But having just awoken from hibernation, his body was stiff and heavy, and he inadvertently bumped into the Taoist’s shoe.
The young disciple let out a startled cry, lifting his foot to kick it away, but his master stopped him.
The little snake Yi Mo, seeing that these two had no intention of harming him, was too lazy to bother with them. Even though he was hungry, he knew he couldn’t eat these two and was about to leave.
But the older Taoist called out to him.
The Taoist said, “That snake.”
Knowing that he was being referred to, Yi Mo stopped and turned his head, his small black eyes coldly staring at him, as if waiting for him to continue.
“You’re an interesting snake, quite perceptive,” said the Taoist.
At that time, Yi Mo was not yet called Yi Mo; he was just an unnamed, legless creature. The mountains were full of birds and beasts, and there were even some who had cultivated into spirits. Although Yi Mo wasn’t interested, he was vaguely aware of the existence of these beings. He had never considered cultivating into a spirit or a demon, thinking his current life was just fine.
However, the Taoist disrupted the stable life of this snake.
The Taoist took out a wine flask from his waist and said with a smile, “I see you’ve just woken up from hibernation, and you must be hungry. How about I offer you some wine?” As he spoke, he opened the flask.
The wine, unknown in origin, had a fragrant aroma. Although Yi Mo knew that the person had ill intentions, he was truly hungry, and after a moment’s hesitation, he drank from the gourd.
When he finished the wine and lifted his head again, he found that the world before him had changed.
The once verdant forest was now shrouded in a heavy black mist, mixed with red and green hues. The familiar world had taken on a new appearance.
The Taoist remained with a smiling demeanor, squatting down to explain to him which were demonic auras, which were妖气 (yao qi, demonic energy), and which were怨气 (yuan qi, resentful energy). He also explained the distinction between demons and monsters, and finally, cheerfully put away the empty wine gourd, saying, “Having drunk my wine, you have become a demon. You are no longer the worm that people catch to skin and stew.”
Yi Mo was stunned and speechless for a long time.
The Taoist then gave him a name and, satisfied, rose and left, without attending to any official business, departing lightly and indifferent to the impact he had on a snake’s life.
Later, as Yi Mo, now a snake demon, began to cultivate by absorbing the essence of the sun and moon, he had to learn to practice. Accepting the fact of becoming a demon was not difficult; the challenge lay in discovering how many demonic creatures there were in the mountain. As an ordinary small snake, those demons had ignored him, but now with divine guidance, he was extraordinary in their eyes and was often harassed.
Yi Mo, naturally preferring solitude, found it bothersome.
Moreover, the birds and beasts in the mountain that Yi Mo was familiar with, who had been diligently cultivating, had gradually fallen into demonic paths, corrupted by love, hatred, greed, anger, and delusion, losing their true nature, which displeased him even more.
Eventually, the yellow oriole demon that often made noise on his back suddenly disappeared overnight.
The rampant noise and laughter of the demons eventually forced Yi Mo to act, exterminating the demon leader formed from the resentment of soldiers who had died at the foot of the mountain and cleaning out the little demons that had plagued him day and night. He left his homeland.
As he experienced more, Yi Mo realized that the Taoist who had enlightened him knew that the mountain’s demonic aura was too heavy to subdue, which was why he had chosen this pure and indifferent little snake and given him power, using him to kill the demon leader.
The fight between demons and monsters was evenly matched.
If it were a human, with a mortal body, even with comparable power, they would still suffer some disadvantages.
Yi Mo knew he had been tricked, but he did not show his anger or joy, instead calmly seeking another spiritual mountain and cultivating for another hundred years until he attained human form and descended the mountain. He eventually found the reincarnation of the Taoist and, after nearly making him hang himself out of anger, went back to the mountain to continue his cultivation.
Later, the Taoist went through three more lifetimes and reached the celestial ranks. All of this was now like smoke from the past.
Shen Qingxuan listened attentively to his past and, at the end, could not help but lower his head and chuckle quietly, thinking that this Taoist and this snake had a beginning and an end.
With this thought, he picked up his pen and asked: When will you return?
Yi Mo replied: At the earliest, two months; at the latest, half a year.
Seeing it might take as long as half a year, Shen Qingxuan, feeling reluctant, no longer hid his emotions, though he would not become intimate with others, and despite not being unfamiliar with the situation, only asked: Will it really take so long?
The snake Taoist replied: There are many spirits and monsters in this mountain. If you feel lonely, you may burn incense to invite them.
Though he spoke politely and with concern, his tone remained indifferent. Shen Qingxuan, displeased, thought that knowing this snake demon was enough, and he did not need to invite other spirits to keep him company.
He turned his face away, covering his expression with his long hair.
Yi Mo, sitting opposite him, was also silent for a while. After a moment, he picked up the paper and ink again and wrote: Farewell.
Although Shen Qingxuan remained still, his eyes darted to the movement. Seeing the words written on the white paper, his heart skipped a beat. Just then, a lamp by the bed exploded with a spark, and his hand on the silk quilt suddenly clenched tightly, his fingertips turning white.
The bed canopy was lifted again, though its shape was not visible, Shen Qingxuan knew that Yi Mo was leaving, and he felt a sudden discomfort.
Dependence is a human trait, and Shen Qingxuan was no exception. Although he hated his dependence on this demon, he could not think too much about it. The loneliness of nearly twenty years had been pleasantly changed in these few months. The black-and-white life had taken on a different brilliance due to this unusual encounter, and the trust in this alien being seemed to form involuntarily, along with the dependence.
Yet he had to part ways for half a year.
The originally envisioned gentleman-like relationship seemed to be failing.
Shen Qingxuan suddenly turned his face, picking up the pen, and wrote on the long-awaited white paper:
You have shown me kindness and given me much. After a few months apart, I miss you. Since you have come to bid farewell, why not let me see you one last time? Even if it is just a midnight dream, thinking of our conversation by the candlelight, I would not be alone.
Putting down the pen, Shen Qingxuan stared at the opposite side, remaining silent for a while.
He knew well that their gentleman-like relationship might undergo a tremendous change because of this request.
Yi Mo never revealed himself, and it was clear that this had been his habit for hundreds of years. How could their relationship have become so close to change such a long-held habit?
If Yi Mo refused…
Shen Qingxuan suddenly broke into a cold sweat, with hair standing on end from his tailbone to the top of his head—if Yi Mo refused…
He dared not think further.
Even a relationship as cool as water was better than a rift. He was no longer a reckless youth, how could he always be at a loss when encountering him?
As Shen Qingxuan was distressed, suspicious, and flustered, the bed canopy began to gently sway, as if someone had picked it up and put it down.
Then, a black corner of clothing appeared on the previously empty quilt. Shen Qingxuan held his breath, his mind in turmoil.
What he had been thinking seemed to be appearing before him. Whether it was excitement or something else, he did not dare to breathe, his pale face turning red, and he even started to feel dizzy.
Yi Mo’s invisibility spell was lifted quickly, but appeared slow in Shen Qingxuan’s eyes. When Yi Mo’s face, as upright and indifferent as his handwriting, finally appeared in view, Shen Qingxuan blinked, feeling his whole body stiffen.
Seeing Yi Mo’s fingertip produce a small cluster of green flames, shooting towards his chest, Shen Qingxuan felt like he was struck by gravel and suddenly gasped.
Realizing that he had forgotten to breathe, almost suffocating himself, Shen Qingxuan’s face turned red.
After looking at Yi Mo’s cold, sharp face for a while, Shen Qingxuan picked up his pen and wrote:
Resplendent and reserved, unmatched in the world.
Yi Mo slightly raised his eyebrows, using his hand as a pen, and added a line beside the eight characters:
Elegant and charming, with natural grace.
Seeing the words, Shen Qingxuan instinctively touched his own cheek, and looked up to see a fleeting light in Yi Mo’s dark eyes. He immediately realized he had been teased. Yi Mo was sincerely praising him, while Yi Mo was merely mocking him. Yet he had fallen for it.
Shen Qingxuan’s face turned so red it seemed like it would bleed, and he mouthed: “You bad snake.”
Though silent, the expression was clear.
Yi Mo showed no anger or joy, only left two words on the paper: Mutual.
Then, the bed canopy lifted, and he vanished.
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Sidchy
I love them so much they are so cute. The written conversations are so beautiful. I was freaking out when he asked to see what Yi Mo looks like. I hope he won’t be gone too long🥲