Encountering a Snake - Chapter 17

v2c17

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ji Jiu’s face suddenly flushed a deep red. He was no stranger to matters of romance and could naturally hear the hint of teasing anger in his words. First teasing, then anger, faintly mixed with intimacy—it carried a subtle air of tenderness.

Fortunately, no one else was around, apart from himself and the drunken, unconscious giant snake on the bed. Ji Jiu’s heartbeat quickened, thundering in his ears, as if it would deafen him. He stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do. The cold night air crept up his bare ankles, spreading through his body and gradually dissipating the heat. His face no longer burned, and only then did Ji Jiu return to sit on the bed.

After sitting for a while, he grabbed the snake’s body with both hands, lifted it, hooked the box over with his toes, and threw the snake back in. “Go back to your box and continue your delusional dreams!” Ji Jiu thought viciously, his teeth grinding in anger. Yet, inexplicably, he adjusted his clothes again.

The soft inner garment brushed against his chest, igniting a faint tingling pain at the swollen red spot. Ji Jiu’s hand paused mid-motion. He glared at the already closed box, his face once again flushed three shades of red. This time, he dared not call it a “wretched snake.” Instead, he muttered, “Shameless pervert!”

He used his foot to shove the box aside, then carefully tightened his clothes before lying down again.

Curled under the blanket, Ji Jiu closed his eyes to sleep. Just as he was about to drift off, he suddenly thought of Shen Jue. Why was it that every time, Shen Jue would catch him in such situations? And judging by his expression, he wasn’t even that surprised. Could it be that in their past life, he had been so brazen with this snake that even the child had grown used to it?

Thinking of this, Ji Jiu froze. He nearly raised his hand to slap himself—what on earth was he thinking?

This realization sparked another wave of anger, and as usual, Ji Jiu redirected his frustration toward the instigator. He sat up again, carried the box, and placed it heavily on the wooden table. The snake was left alone on the table, while Ji Jiu pulled down the bed curtains and lay back down, out of sight and out of mind.

The next morning, just as the sky began to brighten, Ji Jiu awoke. Still drowsy, he lifted the curtains and immediately saw the dark indigo wooden box. It sat quietly on the table, its solitary presence blending with the faint, cold light of dawn, exuding a sense of loneliness.

Maintaining his position, Ji Jiu stared at the box for a long time.

After packing up and setting out, Shen Jue, carrying the wooden box, walked at the rear as usual. Ji Jiu called him over and said, “This journey will not be peaceful. You shouldn’t carry that thing anymore. Find someone you trust and leave it with them.”

Shen Jue hadn’t expected Ji Jiu to bring this up. He paused before asking in return, “Are you worried about it, or about me?”

“…” His question was so direct, even sharp. Ji Jiu took a moment to compose himself before answering, “Why would I worry about it? You’re my guard. In a moment of crisis, if you save it instead of me, wouldn’t I die an unjust death?”

“It doesn’t need my saving,” Shen Jue replied. Seeing Ji Jiu’s puzzled expression, he quickly added with a smile, “If something happens, I’ll just dig a hole and bury it. No one will notice. I’d still save you, of course.”

Ji Jiu imagined the scene of Shen Jue burying the snake and couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. He said, “Aren’t you worried it might suffocate?”

“It’s burrowed into graves before. Would a dirt hole scare it?” Shen Jue grinned. “At most, it would turn into dried snake meat.”

Ji Jiu couldn’t help but picture the mighty snake turned into dried meat, leaving him speechless. After a long pause, he glanced at Shen Jue and said, “Who taught you to be like this? Inconsistent, inside and out.”

Shen Jue was puzzled by the accusation and quickly asked for clarification. Ji Jiu ignored him, prompting Shen Jue to persist in questioning, even disturbing the caravan’s camels and causing a commotion. Finally, Ji Jiu relented, explaining, “In front of it, you’d never dare to speak like this. But in front of me, you say whatever you please. Should I commend you for your consistency?”

This time, Shen Jue was the one rendered speechless. He stood in place until Ji Jiu had walked far ahead, then hurried to catch up. Grabbing Ji Jiu’s sleeve, he murmured, “But I’ve always been like this in front of you.”

Ji Jiu asked, “Why?”

Though there were many grievances and unwillingness, he still acknowledged that his past life self had been both the father of the young man before him and the lover of the snake in the box. Ji Jiu had never shirked responsibility in this life, and this was no exception. Like his former self, Shen Qingxuan, he admitted it openly and never quibbled over the details.

Yet, this life, he was Ji Jiu—a Ji Jiu who had drunk Meng Po’s soup. Past memories had vanished into oblivion, leaving only emptiness when recalled.

Ji Jiu asked why, and Shen Jue replied, “I used to be terrified of him. But with you around, I wasn’t afraid anymore. So, if he’s awake, it’s not that I wouldn’t dare to speak, but that I could only say those things if you were present. If it were just him, saying anything would feel like blasphemy…”

“Blasphemy against what?” Ji Jiu asked again.

Shen Jue thought for a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…like blaspheming a deity. But with you around, I feel safe enough to say it.”

Ji Jiu pressed further, “Why does my presence make you feel safe?”

This seemed like a difficult question to answer, leaving Xiaobao silent for a long time, his thick brows tightly furrowed, almost forming a knot. Ji Jiu waited for a while without receiving an answer and didn’t want to push him too hard. He simply said, “Let’s go,” and prepared to move forward.

But Xiaobao suddenly called out to him, a smile breaking across his face—an expression of relief after overcoming a challenge. He said, “Because when Father is there, he doesn’t seem like a thousand-year-old demon, or a cultivator detached from joy and sorrow. He seems like an ordinary person.”

He would smile, talk, share strange stories, and discuss the warmth and coldness of the world. He would hold someone in his arms, leaning against the veranda pillars under the sun with his eyes half-closed. He would do many things he wouldn’t do when alone—someone who had long since stopped partaking in worldly matters, yet would pick through dishes during dinner. In winter, he would nap with a hand warmer in his arms, sometimes reverting to his original form without even realizing it. As a snake, he would coil around someone, slip into their inner garments, and stir up trouble, forcing Shen Qingxuan to flee back to his room in a hurry to deal with the coiled serpent.

He did many seemingly meaningless things—things he knew had no significance in his long life, yet he never stopped and even wanted them to continue. He became less and less like a cold-hearted demon cultivating in solitude.

Instead, he seemed like an ordinary person—someone Xiaobao could call “Father” and occasionally act spoiled in front of.

Ji Jiu understood. No matter how convoluted the words, with a bit of thought, he could grasp their meaning. He understood but remained silent.

Shen Jue tightened the straps of the wooden box on his back and looked at him earnestly.

Ji Jiu met his gaze and finally spoke after a long pause. “How can a demon become a human?”

He continued, “A demon is a demon. Cultivating to become an immortal is the proper path.”

A demon is a demon. To escape birth, aging, sickness, and death is already a blessing. Why bother venturing into the human world to experience love, hatred, greed, and obsession? A human’s life is but a fleeting moment, like a candle in the dark that will inevitably burn out. If one is a demon, why act like a moth drawn to the flame, harming no one but oneself first?

Ji Jiu lowered his eyes, gazing at the dusty road beneath his feet. In a soft murmur, he said, “If one truly loves, how could they bear to let the other suffer so?” It seemed as if he were speaking to himself, yet also to others—those present and absent. But his voice was too faint, scattered by the wind.

Shen Jue, with his sharp senses, heard him clearly and, after a moment of shock, asked, “If it is suffering willingly endured, does it still count as suffering?”

Ji Jiu lifted his eyes, casting him a glance but offering no reply. Instead, he turned and walked forward. He knew his own life was also but a fleeting moment, yet he would burn the brightest before extinguishing—its brilliance was the meaning of his existence. He had his own purpose for living, and it certainly wasn’t to spar verbally with Shen Jue. Such conversations, Ji Jiu would not respond to. Twenty-seven years of life had given him his own thoughts and judgments. Right and wrong were crystal clear. Even knowing his actions now might not be appropriate in the future, he would not change them—for having tangled for one lifetime, why continue clinging after reincarnation?

The good and bad of that previous life were unclear to Ji Jiu, nor did he want to know. But in this life, it should end here.

Becoming an immortal was better than being a demon.

Being a demon was better than being trapped in worldly struggles, plagued by worries and earthly desires.

And if, on the cusp of immortality, one faced a sudden setback, reverting to their original form or having their soul completely extinguished, what meaning would those thousand years hold?

Ji Jiu thought to himself that he had his own meaning for living. But that meaning would never involve destroying others, even if it were a snake.

This was Ji Jiu’s thought, though he didn’t realize it was already too late.

In his past life, he had taken a fleeting thirteen years to teach that demon human emotions, leading him to linger amidst the clamor of the human world.

Being a demon or an immortal might hold many merits, but in the demon’s eyes, none of them could compare to a single day spent together in companionship.

Heaven is too far; the human world is just right.