Encountering a Snake - Chapter 15

v2c15

 

Three days remained until departure. Ji Jiu counted the days, feeling somewhat restless. He couldn’t pinpoint when it began, but an atmosphere of chilling severity had descended over the household, an oppressive air that instilled fear in all. No one knew where it came from, but everyone in the residence, from top to bottom, grew cautious and meticulous, not even daring to sneeze casually.

 

As the departure date approached, Ji Jiu no longer wandered idly about the estate but stayed in his study all day, even having his meals brought to him by the servants.

 

The servant who delivered the meal found that his master, inside the room, wasn’t actually busy with anything. Ji Jiu was seated at the desk with a book in hand, but by the time the servant finished setting the food and left, not a single page had been turned. The master was lost in thought. The servant, noticing this, carefully retreated and hurried away.

 

Though daydreaming wasn’t a significant issue—after all, everyone zones out sometimes—it seemed particularly strange when it happened to his master.

 

After all, this was Ji Jiu, a man known for decisiveness and resolve. Even in deep thought, his expression never faltered, his eyes always sharp with focus. But now, he was in a trance, his eyes unfocused and vacant. He hadn’t noticed the servant’s entry or departure.

 

The servant thought to himself that the somber mood in the household might be connected to whatever had caused his master to space out. Curious as he was, he dared not pry. Even more so, he dared not share this observation with anyone. In such a household, rules weren’t explicitly set but naturally formed. Anyone who broke them would inevitably face a harsh end.

 

Ji Jiu truly was in a daze.

 

Holding that book, he had been seated at his desk for three full hours. The book remained untouched, its pages unmoved even by the wind outside the window. His face bore an expression of calmness mixed with confusion.

 

This trance-like state was soon interrupted.

 

Shen Jue burst into the room abruptly, with no warning or announcement, exclaiming, “Father, I need to leave for a few days to take care of something.”

 

Ji Jiu slowly came to his senses, his gaze shifting to Shen Jue’s face. His dreamy expression remained as he murmured, “Oh.”

 

Receiving permission, Shen Jue was about to leave but was called back.

 

When he turned back, the dreamlike Ji Jiu was gone, replaced by the sharp-eyed general with a piercing gaze. “We set out tomorrow. If you’re leaving now, is the matter serious?” He didn’t ask what it was, only how severe. Ji Jiu’s questions were always direct and to the point.

 

Shen Jue answered, “I don’t know yet if it’s serious, but I can’t rest easy until I see for myself.”

 

Ji Jiu didn’t press further, simply asking, “How many days until you return?”

 

“At least five,” Shen Jue estimated the journey, then added, “Perhaps ten days or half a month.”

 

Ji Jiu calculated the army’s marching speed and quickly said, “No matter how long it takes, meet us at the border city. If you arrive early, wait there. If you’re late, I’ll leave someone to send you a message. Find us yourself.”

 

Shen Jue responded with a brief “Mm.” Ji Jiu said, “Go.”

 

Shen Jue left.

 

Only then did Ji Jiu notice the food on the table. The dishes had gone cold. Already lacking appetite, he now had even less desire to eat. Instead, he drank a few cups of wine on an empty stomach. The alcohol quickly warmed his body and sent a wave of dizziness through him. Alone in the room, he loosened his clothing, reclined on the couch, and let a lazy air take over him. Closing his eyes, he removed his hairpin, allowing his long hair to cascade down. He set the pin and hair crown aside, pulled a blanket over himself, and fell asleep.

 

In his dreams, he suddenly thought of how Shen Jue had no family or close friends. The only reason he would leave so suddenly was if something had happened to Yi Mo.

 

This thought jolted Ji Jiu awake. He sat up abruptly, his heart pounding.

 

Pouring himself a pot of cold tea, Ji Jiu calmed down, seated himself, and thought, What does it have to do with me?

 

After a moment, he reasoned, That thousand-year-old demon—Taoists and monks all claim he can’t be killed. What could possibly go wrong?

 

This idea quickly dissipated. Ji Jiu was a worldly man with a deep understanding of human nature. If people had deadly conflicts, why wouldn’t demons? Humans couldn’t kill him, but who’s to say his own kind couldn’t? What if he encountered another demon who had cultivated for a thousand years? At this, Ji Jiu realized how foolish he had been before, relying solely on Taoists and monks to deal with him instead of using demons against demons. Perhaps that would’ve worked.

 

Ji Jiu snorted softly, shaking his head. Since encountering this demon, his world had been utterly upended. Even such absurd ideas had begun surfacing. But another thousand-year demon? Did he think they were as common as stray dogs in the streets?

 

Supporting his head with his hand, Ji Jiu began to feel a deep irritation. Why didn’t he just focus on cultivation instead of coming here to find him? Ascending to immortality would be so much better. Even if they had been lovers in a past life, so what? That person was dead. Dead meant dead. Unless they were resurrected, that person would never exist again. Even if reincarnated, how could they possibly be the exact same person?

 

Ji Jiu thought this through. The past life was the past life. In that life, one could defy conventions, disregard ethics, and live freely. Was it so unacceptable to fall in love with a demon or a man? Ji Jiu didn’t mind. From an outsider’s perspective, he even admired it, considering it heroic in its own right.

 

But that didn’t mean he could live the same way in this life. He couldn’t live that way.

 

His path had long since been chosen. Twenty-seven years had reduced countless crossroads to one singular route. Those detours he had once seen as a youth were now far behind him, no longer reachable. He had no way back, only forward—through mountains and waters, straight to the peak, and then down into the abyss. This was the only path left to him.

 

Moreover, Yi Mo was Shen Qingxuan’s widow. Not his.

 

He had a wife, children, and even a young daughter, innocent and sweet. When he died, the only person who could rightfully claim widowhood would be his wife, Ji Liu-shi.

 

She was the woman he had married with full ceremony—escorted in a grand sedan, with embroidered balls and tassels. They had bowed to heaven and earth, knelt before the ancestors, and recorded their marriage in the family registry. Beside Ji Jiu’s name in that book was Ji Liu-shi’s, not a blank space or anyone else’s name. This was an unchangeable fact.

 

Ji Jiu rubbed his temples, which were beginning to throb.

 

The next night, leading his troops out, Ji Jiu mounted his horse and was the first to leave the city. As he passed through the gates, he looked back once, exhaling deeply, without much lingering sentiment.

 

The imperial capital was a place riddled with spies and thorns, far crueler and more treacherous than the battlefield’s honest life-and-death struggles. As for his family, he needn’t worry. Everything was in order, with or without him. As long as the emperor wished the Ji family to endure, even in his absence, the household would continue as it always had. Heartache was another matter entirely.

 

The battlefield had dulled his emotions, making him almost heartless. Ji Jiu had long noticed this about himself but didn’t dwell on it.

 

He would do what needed to be done. The household was a place meant to be protected, and he would protect it with diligence. That was enough.

 

His life had taken shape within the confines of a predetermined framework. The closer it came to its end, the sharper its lines, the simpler its strokes, exuding a fierce and ominous aura. Those tender emotions, intentionally or unintentionally, had been deeply buried—hidden in a place he had little desire to revisit.

 

Attachments were weaknesses, and the battlefield general had little use for weaknesses.

 

The emperor had long held his family as hostages in the capital, forbidding them from accompanying him on his campaigns.

 

Ji Jiu had left them without hesitation.

 

Because only by severing all attachments could he face death with composure.

 

And only in his death could his family truly be safe. Wherever they lived, they would be safe.

 

Ji Jiu raised the whip and lightly snapped it. The horse he had ridden for many years neighed and immediately began to gallop, carrying the general with joy at finally being able to run, quickly vanishing into the night.

 

The horsemen behind him followed, their hooves echoing as they rode, galloping under the cover of darkness. Like the wind, these men, heading to a foreign land on a reconnaissance mission, disappeared behind the city gates.

 

After leaving the imperial city, they traveled until dawn. Ji Jiu ordered the troops to stop and change into disguises at a prepared manor. They dressed as traveling merchants, loaded the horses with goods, and divided the 500 men into five groups, each taking a different route to the border town. He didn’t want their arrival to be too conspicuous, avoiding suspicion from spies.

 

Having prepared everything in advance, Ji Jiu quickly set things in order and dispatched his men.

 

After another half month of travel, they reached the frontier. Two teams that had arrived earlier had followed his instructions: after entering the city, they dispersed and engaged in buying and selling goods, appearing no different from ordinary merchants.

 

When Ji Jiu’s group arrived, they did the same. Ji Jiu, with only five men by his side, encountered Shen Jue in the city.

 

Shen Jue was carrying a large wooden box on his back. The box was securely fastened with two cloth ropes twisted into sturdy straps, tied firmly to his shoulders. When Ji Jiu saw him, he raised an eyebrow and smiled, saying, “What goods does the young master have here? Might I take a look?”

 

Shen Jue froze for a moment, instinctively shielding the box with his hand in a defensive and protective posture. It was an obvious refusal.

 

Ji Jiu was momentarily taken aback—this was the first time Shen Jue had shown such an expression to his words. He immediately sensed something unusual.

 

However, his expression betrayed nothing as he continued to smile lightly and said, “It seems this is a treasured possession of the young master. If it’s something priceless, I certainly can’t afford it. Pardon me for disturbing you.” With that, he cupped his hands in a polite gesture and led his horse away.

 

Though Ji Jiu said nothing further, Shen Jue felt he was slightly displeased. Holding the box tightly in his arms, Shen Jue murmured, “He’s not merchandise; how could I put a price on him?” Feeling dejected for upsetting his father, Shen Jue trailed behind Ji Jiu’s caravan, walking slowly.

 

By evening, Ji Jiu called him to eat. Seeing that he had brought the box along again and placed it on a bench beside him, never relaxing his guard even while eating, Ji Jiu grew more curious.

 

The curiosity wasn’t Ji Jiu’s alone; several others, soldiers accompanying him on this mission, were also intrigued. Because Shen Jue was Ji Jiu’s bodyguard and ranked slightly above them, they didn’t speak openly but couldn’t resist glancing at the box with the corners of their eyes. Occasionally, they whispered among themselves, their manner normal but appearing sneaky to Shen Jue.

 

Finally, when someone tried to touch the box, Shen Jue’s displeasure erupted. He slammed his chopsticks on the table and said coldly, “If you touch it, I’ll chop your hand off. Believe me?”

 

His words were harsh, with a trace of overbearing arrogance, which angered the soldier who had made the attempt. The man immediately retorted, “What’s the harm in touching it? Will it break?”

 

Shen Jue’s expression darkened. “Try if you’re not afraid.”

 

The challenge escalated to this point, and the soldier reached out. Shen Jue grabbed his hand and tightened his grip, the sound of cracking joints resounding in the room. The soldier quickly cried out to Ji Jiu, “General!”

 

All this time, Ji Jiu had been quietly eating, as if he hadn’t noticed anything. Only when the soldier called for him did he look up and ask, “Calling me?”

 

Cold sweat dripped from the soldier’s forehead. Shen Jue also looked at Ji Jiu but didn’t let go. The other soldiers in the room all turned their gaze to Ji Jiu.

 

Ji Jiu set down his bowl and chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and asked lightly, “Is there a general here?”

 

His tone was exceptionally soft, like the murmur of an innocent bystander caught in a dispute, yet his gaze was icy, sharp as blades that cut deep.

 

Shen Jue immediately released the soldier’s hand, dropped to one knee, and said loudly, “Subordinate acted rudely. Please punish me, General.”

 

His shift in demeanor was so abrupt, it seemed as if he had rehearsed it countless times. The soldier with the dislocated wrist was stunned but, facing Ji Jiu’s cold gaze, shuddered and also knelt.

 

Ji Jiu watched them for a moment, then picked up his chopsticks again and took a few more bites. Only then did he say, “Do not touch what does not belong to you. Didn’t your parents teach you that? If you touch something that isn’t yours, you deserve punishment.” He continued, “In the military, no matter how serious the situation, you are all comrades. How can you start fighting each other at the drop of a hat? On the battlefield, the only ones who can save you are your companions. Don’t think you’re so skilled that you can hurt others; you’ll only hurt yourself.”

 

Ji Jiu asked, “Do you understand?”

 

Both kneeling men responded in unison, “Understood.”

 

Ji Jiu said, “Reset the dislocated joint and eat.”

 

Shen Jue helped reset the soldier’s joint and sat back down quietly to finish his meal. The rest of the soldiers, too, kept their heads down and didn’t glance at the wooden box again. The meal was eaten in silence.

 

Ji Jiu was quite satisfied.

 

After dinner, Ji Jiu finished his work and called Shen Jue inside. Shen Jue entered with the box still strapped to his back and asked, “General, what is the matter?”

 

Ji Jiu said, “Open that thing.”

 

Without thinking, Shen Jue replied, “No!”

 

Ji Jiu said, “Whatever is inside, I’m confident the caravan can protect it. Carrying it on your back every day only draws attention and invites trouble. Either open it and show me, so I can determine if it truly cannot be transported with the rest of the goods, or tomorrow you tie it to the camel caravan.”

 

Shen Jue hesitated for a long time before saying, “Father, it’s really not merchandise.”

 

Ji Jiu raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a living person, is it?”

 

“Father, you must have guessed already,” Shen Jue said, his face troubled. “Anyway, it’s not a living person.”

 

Ji Jiu’s face turned pale, as if struck by realization. He murmured, “I guessed, but I was wrong.”

 

Saying this, he walked over, unfastened the ropes himself, and placed the large wooden box on the table. He opened it personally. Even though Shen Jue hesitated, he yielded and quietly watched as Ji Jiu placed the box on the table. Ji Jiu took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then suddenly lifted the lid.

 

At the same moment, Shen Jue held his breath, nervously watching his father’s face. Ji Jiu slowly opened his eyes and looked down into the wooden box.

 

Inside was a large black snake, as thick as a bowl, coiled in the box. Its head drooped, its eyes closed, utterly motionless.

 

Ji Jiu tightly shut his eyes again.

 

Shen Jue, startled by this reaction, hurried to cover the box again, not wanting him to look further. “Were you frightened?” he asked anxiously.

 

Amid the flurry, Ji Jiu’s trembling voice asked, “Is it dead?”

 

Shen Jue froze. “Huh?”

 

Ji Jiu said, “How did it die?”

 

Realizing the misunderstanding, Shen Jue quickly clarified, “Who said it’s dead? It’s drunk! It finished an entire bottle of the celestial brew Hundred Days Drunk. It’ll be out for at least three months!”

 

Ji Jiu’s expression twisted strangely.

 

“…What’s that smell?” After a pause, he sniffed the air and asked, “So fragrant?”

 

Shen Jue, noticing his father’s embarrassment, played along. “It’s the scent of the wine. When I found him, the entire mountain was filled with this fragrance.”

 

“…” After a moment of silence, Ji Jiu asked, “Where did you find him?”

 

Shen Jue, too, fell silent, lowering his head.

 

Ji Jiu asked, “What is it?”

 

After a long pause, Shen Jue answered in a slightly hoarse voice, “In my father’s tomb.”

 

Ji Jiu was shocked as if struck hard in the chest. A strange ache and heaviness filled his heart, leaving him almost unable to stand. What a foolish creature this was, a spirit guarding a grave. Did it think that by staying beside a pile of bones, it could keep the deceased alive? Did it believe it could find solace and companionship with remains?

 

His thoughts in disarray, Ji Jiu sighed heavily after a long moment and said, “I see.”

 

Inside the box, the large snake rested quietly on an old, tattered fox fur cloak Shen Jue had retrieved. Curled up, it leaned its head against the collar of the fur, as if nestled on the heart of the person it loved, indifferent to the world.