Encountering a Snake - Chapter 12

V2C12

As soon as Ji Jiu was embraced, his body instinctively stiffened. Although his mind harbored no aversion, his body subconsciously recalled the harm and humiliation Yi Mo had inflicted upon him countless nights before. He stood frozen, unable to move, rigid as a tautly drawn needle, stabbing others and himself alike. Yi Mo’s arms paused slightly but then tightened, pulling him closer into his embrace.

Ji Jiu remained motionless, as though he had lost the ability to resist or step away. Yi Mo stroked the nape of his neck, pressing him against his shoulder. His hand returned to clasp Ji Jiu’s waist and press against his back, holding him in a posture that allowed no refusal. This position solidified, no longer shifting an inch.

Amidst this time-stopping embrace, Ji Jiu’s rigid muscles gradually eased, his limbs showing signs of softening. When his entire body finally relaxed, he let out an almost inaudible sigh. Yi Mo then moved, tilting his face slightly as his cool, thin lips brushed lightly across Ji Jiu’s cheek. It was less of a kiss and more like a breeze skimming over a flower.

Ji Jiu blinked, feeling as though this touch was both real and illusory, unable to discern if it had truly happened. He gazed at Yi Mo, his eyes tinged with confusion.

As if confirming something, Yi Mo kissed him again, lips barely grazing before retreating, cautiously watching him.

Ji Jiu’s eyes widened. Under that watchful and careful gaze, his body retreated slightly as if to withdraw, but his waist was held so tightly that there was nowhere to escape. He could only lean back. Yi Mo leaned in closer by an inch, and Ji Jiu leaned back by two. His white inner garment flowed like moonlight, his stretched chest and constrained waist forming an elegant arc under the light. This scene in Yi Mo’s eyes was vivid and radiant, every strand of hair fluttering in the wind seemed alive.

“Ji Jiu,” Yi Mo said.

Looking up at the man above, Ji Jiu’s breathing turned chaotic. Hearing his name, he couldn’t muster a response, only staring, gazing, and locking eyes with the other’s bright and deep gaze.

Leaning forward, Yi Mo firmly held Ji Jiu’s waist and said seriously, almost sternly, “Ji Jiu, you’re going to fall.”

Ji Jiu snapped out of it and turned his head, realizing he was inches from the ground. He quickly used his core strength to stand upright, but Yi Mo held him down. Ji Jiu’s face flushed red, his hand gripping Yi Mo’s shoulder tightly as he growled in a low voice, “You did that on purpose!”

Yi Mo neither denied nor admitted it. A flicker of amusement flashed in his eyes, caught by Ji Jiu in an instant. Ji Jiu clutched his shoulder, struggling to stand, then glared at him with a flushed face. Yi Mo met the glare, his expression unbothered. Ji Jiu thought for a while but couldn’t think of a way to retaliate. After a moment of hesitation, he turned and walked away. A few steps later, he stopped abruptly, lifting his arm under the bright moonlight to wipe at his cheek where he’d been kissed—once, twice, three times—with exaggerated movements, making it obvious to the person behind him. After finishing, he continued forward, passed through the courtyard gate, and disappeared outside.

Yi Mo stood there, staring at the path where Ji Jiu had vanished, lost in thought for a long while before muttering as if to himself, “He’s changed.”

From inside the house, a small servant, who had been watching the scene, quickly lowered his head to examine his toes, suppressing his laughter. After a moment, he replied in a low voice, “You’re not much better yourself, sir.”

Yi Mo responded with an “Oh” and disappeared.

Ji Jiu’s face was still flushed, though it was unclear whether he was angered by being teased or for some other reason. He hurried back to the study. Just as he pushed open the door, he sensed someone inside. Pausing in surprise, he asked, “Madam?”

As soon as he spoke, someone struck a fire striker. A graceful figure moved to the table, lighting the lamp before turning to bow to him. She called softly, “Husband.”

Ji Jiu stood on the threshold for a moment, then walked over. The couple exchanged glances under the dim lamplight. Ji Jiu retrieved a cloak from the rack and draped it over her shoulders, asking, “Why are you still awake so late?”

The woman tightened the cloak around her, as if feeling cold, and sat down. Once seated, she adjusted the cloak further, wrapping herself tightly before looking up to speak softly, “I came looking for you earlier, but you weren’t here, so I went to the other courtyard… The scenery there… is truly remarkable.” Her voice trailed off, nearly inaudible.

The slight flush on Ji Jiu’s face suddenly turned pale.

“Husband,” she called, her once gentle eyes now sharp. “Did you see it?”

Ji Jiu stood by the table, composed himself, and asked, “See what?”

“Naturally, the conduct of one with a penchant for men!” she snapped sharply, her tone unprecedentedly harsh.

Ji Jiu, unaccustomed to such a tone from her, remained silent.

The woman lowered her head, realizing she had overstepped. She softened her tone before continuing, “When you returned from the garden years ago, you rejected the Chancellor’s daughter and chose to marry someone from a humble family like mine. Rumors spread, and it became the talk of the city. I never asked you about it, but today, I want to know—why did you refuse to marry the Chancellor’s daughter and choose me instead?”

Ji Jiu frowned slightly. “Why should there be a reason? I married you because I wanted to marry you.”

She smiled faintly. “You’re lying.”

“Hmm?”

“You once said you would never reconcile with the Chancellor. As long as the Ji family prospers, you will oppose him. You feared that marrying the Chancellor’s daughter would invite trouble. But more than that, because of your pride, you looked down on their gossip and insisted on proving them wrong. That’s why, against all objections, you married me.”

Ji Jiu raised an eyebrow. Though he didn’t nod, neither did he shake his head. The truth was as she said. With the emperor reigning, the court was divided into two factions vying for power. The emperor watched from above, unconcerned, as long as the balance was maintained. If the Ji family, with its military might, allied with the Chancellor through marriage, the emperor would no longer feel secure, and both families would face a bloodbath. So, Ji Jiu refused the marriage proposal and instead married the daughter of a modest household.

Though her family was small, they had once been an influential clan, now fallen into poverty, living in an old, dilapidated house. He insisted on marrying her, ignoring the disparity in status, and didn’t feel it was inappropriate. If he cared about others’ opinions, he wouldn’t be Ji Jiu. His actions were deliberate, meant to make a statement to those who needed to see it—Ji Jiu would rather marry a woman of humble origins than the Chancellor’s daughter! This added a new grudge to the longstanding feud between the two families. The emperor, upon hearing the news, was pleased and even stepped in to smooth things over, personally arranging a marriage for the Chancellor’s daughter and bestowing lavish gifts. The Chancellor’s wedding was a grand affair, far outshining Ji Jiu’s modest ceremony with its mere ten carts of dowry.

Recalling these events, Ji Jiu’s expression softened slightly, revealing a faint smile. Seeing this, his wife also smiled, speaking quietly, “In my eyes, my husband is a man of great courage, fearless of rumors and gossip. So now, will you declare to the world with the same determination as when you married me—that General Ji has taken to men?!”

Her tone grew intense with anger.

“We’ve been married for three years,” she continued, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. “I once told you that if you felt lonely, if you fancied someone’s daughter, all you needed to do was tell me, and I would not object. I would welcome her into the household to serve you and treat her as my own sister. But you didn’t want that and forbade me from ever mentioning it again.” She stood, gripping a silk handkerchief tightly, her voice firm and deliberate. “If you truly loved someone, even ten or eight women, I would welcome them all, keep the household harmonious, and ensure you had no worries. But he is a man! How can I allow him into the inner chambers, treat him as a sister, introduce him to relatives, or present him to our ancestors?!”

Her final words were almost hysterical. The handkerchief, once smooth and soft, was crumpled in her grip, the tension of her fingers turning them pale.

Ji Jiu remained still, unyielding as stone.

His expression was devoid of emotion, standing there like an immovable rock, untouched by the storm of her fury.

Amid her outburst, his calm was eerie and unreadable. The depths of his dark eyes absorbed her anger and intensity without offering a hint of reaction.

Faced with his unsettling stillness, her voice faltered. The rage that had burned so fiercely gave way to fear of the man she loved and respected—the man who was as cold and unyielding as ever.

Their relationship had begun with respect and evolved into love.

But in times of conflict, respect often overshadowed love.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly, a spark from the lamp on the table popped with a sharp crack, breaking the oppressive silence. Startled, she called out, “Husband?”

Ji Jiu looked at her, his face still impassive. Internally, however, turbulent waves crashed within him. The storm was so overwhelming that it paradoxically left him calm on the surface.

“Madam,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse from prolonged silence, “you overthink things.”

She froze.

“What did you see tonight?” Ji Jiu turned his gaze to the flickering flame on the table, speaking softly, “Tonight, I was in my room the entire time. I didn’t go anywhere.”

She stood motionless, unable to respond.

“It’s cold, and you came to bring me soup,” he added, glancing at the now-cold bowl on the table. A faint smile appeared on his lips. “You saw nothing.”(wft brother)

Turning back to her, his tone became firmer, carrying a hint of annoyance and a solemn promise. “You told a story—a ridiculous story that could never happen. Nothing happened. Do you understand, madam?” His emphasis on “understand” left no room for doubt.

She snapped back to reality. After a brief pause, she nodded. “I understand.” Then, softly, “If my husband says so, I am reassured.”

“It’s late. Return to your room and rest,” Ji Jiu said. His tone was steady and calm, as neutral as plain water, leaving no space for refusal or negotiation.

She stood for a moment, then turned to collect the bowl from the table. Her voice was gentle as she said, “Since you’ve had the soup, husband, you should also rest early.”

The door opened and closed. Outside, she poured the cold soup onto the ground. The faint splash seemed to remind the man inside that words, once spoken, are like spilled water—there’s no taking them back.

Ji Jiu secured the windows and doors before returning to his bed without a hint of expression. Just as he settled under the covers, a shadow loomed over the bed curtains—a long, dark silhouette.

Without opening his eyes, Ji Jiu calmly uttered two words: “Get out.”