Encountering a Snake - Chapter 5

V2C5

 

After returning to the residence, Ji Jiu instructed his people to pack their belongings, said farewell to his family, and set out on his journey. Although the distance was not far, riding continuously would still take about half a month. With two guards accompanying him, Ji Jiu did not rush his journey. Along the way, he climbed mountains and crossed ridges, occasionally calling the guards to lead the horses while he walked. Although the pace was not slow, it wasn’t particularly fast either. As they traveled, the scenery gradually became barren, with isolated mountains and ridges, and human voices grew scarce. However, the sounds of birds and beasts increased, with the cries of monkeys being the loudest—sharp and piercing. Ji Jiu halted his horse, listening to the calls, feeling a trace of melancholy rising from somewhere within, and sighed lightly. The gloom in his heart remained unshakable.

 

Unable to help himself, he looked down at his hand gripping the reins. The tea-colored mark on his wrist, resembling a snake’s kiss, remained, like a flaw that was missed during creation. Ji Jiu increasingly felt that this was not an ordinary birthmark. Perhaps every unchanging mark on a person was tied to past lives. He thought this and found it amusing; he was someone who didn’t believe in gods or demons, yet here he was, believing in myths and spirits. But these events had indeed occurred. Despite their absurdity, he had to accept them as reality.

 

Ji Jiu accepted this reality, yet it did not mean he accepted fate. He had become enemies with that demon, and although he understood that this enmity stemmed from a previous life, seeking revenge was only natural. However, the means employed were too despicable, and Ji Jiu despised him!

 

He held contempt for him.

 

If he had come boldly to seek revenge, even risking his life and wealth, Ji Jiu would have accepted it as his fate. He would have thought that this was something he deserved. But that demon did not act that way. The demon used such means and humiliation, which Ji Jiu deeply resented.

 

The monkey cries continued to echo through the heavens. Ji Jiu snapped back to reality, smiling as he called to his guards, urging them to continue riding back to the military camp.

 

Throughout the journey, he kept the smile on his face.

 

Those around him had long grown accustomed to his smile and thought little of it. Everyone knew that General Ji had a good temperament and demeanor, always smiling at people, regardless of their social status. His smile was gentle and refined, making others feel close to him at a glance.

 

Yet, unbeknownst to them, as he rode, Ji Jiu was thinking of the cunning man he had instructed to discreetly investigate the Taoist priest in the city before leaving. He wondered how long it would take to receive news. The Taoist, with his white hair and youthful face, likely possessed some magical abilities. If he could find him, he might uncover many mysteries. Perhaps… it was even possible to subdue that demon.

 

Some grievances could only be washed away with blood.

 

With his mind wandering, Ji Jiu hurried for several days before returning to the military.

 

In the camp, dust filled the air, and hooves thundered as drums of war beat loudly. Soldiers were training in the drill grounds. The scorching sun blazed overhead, and the dust that rose covered their faces, which were then washed by sweat, making each one appear indistinct. Yet, each indistinct face held proud eyes, embodying the spirit of resolute men. Ji Jiu dismounted and walked past them. The soldiers behind him murmured their welcome: “The general has returned.” Ji Jiu responded, waving for them to continue their drills, but a genuine smile appeared on his face, his eyes curving into crescents, with faint lines at the corners, adding to his maturity.

 

Returning to the central military tent, General Ji, clad in armor, was writing a report at his desk. Ji Jiu, dressed in a light robe, entered and called out, “Father.”

 

“Xiao Jiu,” the old general looked up, his beard and hair all white, putting down his brush to ask, “How is everything at home?”

 

“All is well,” Ji Jiu replied, “Is there any issue in the military? The training seems quite intense. Are we preparing to deploy?”

 

“Just a couple of days ago, a small group of Xiongnu soldiers came to invade but were driven back,” the old general explained. “What do you think?”

 

Ji Jiu furrowed his brow slightly. “It seems the internal conflicts of the Xiongnu royal court have been resolved. Do we know how many came? Were any captured?”

 

“We captured two; you can interrogate them,” the old general said, moving to one side. “Also, there is a letter here for you to read.” He took out a document from his robe.

 

Ji Jiu took it, realizing it was a confidential document with only a few brief lines stating that since his departure from the capital, the emperor had been enraged during the morning court, subtly hinting that someone was slandering the court’s generals. Although no names were mentioned, it included a line about how the men fought bravely on the battlefield, while there were those in the court who wished to see him dead, with treacherous intentions—like a parasite to the nation!

 

Ji Jiu set down the letter, took a torch, and burned it in the copper basin without saying a word.

 

The old general watched the flames consume the letter, sighing, “Regarding the matter of withholding military pay, I originally intended for you to keep it down, yet you insisted on bringing it up. Now, you’ve stirred up trouble, and that Langjiang behind is supported by the State Chancellor…”

 

“Are you afraid, Father?” Ji Jiu lifted his face, retorting.

 

“I am old and do not know when I will leave this world. You are still young. How can I feel at ease knowing there are more wolves lurking around you?”

 

“It’s fine,” Ji Jiu said calmly, “The emperor still needs the Ji family generals to fight for him. As long as the Xiongnu are not pacified, the Ji family can still survive.”

 

“But what if the emperor orders you to pacify the Xiongnu?” the old general countered.

 

“As a subject, it is naturally my duty to serve the ruler,” Ji Jiu stood up, brushing off the ash from his hands. “This is the destiny of the Ji family’s descendants. If the opportunity arises to perish together with the Xiongnu, it will also relieve the emperor’s worries. When that day comes, all under heaven will submit to the emperor’s feet, and the Ji family, holding military power, can retire in success. If the general dies in battle, only leaving behind a young son, the emperor will surely treat him well.”

 

Hearing this, the old general stood there in a daze, seemingly holding his breath as he gazed at his son. On the youthful face was a calmness that conveyed indifference to honor or disgrace. His heart felt somewhat comforted, yet also sour.

 

There were no words left to say. He could only wonder when the pure and innocent child had transformed into the man before him.

 

It seemed that since he entered the palace as a companion reader, he had gradually seen through the world while interacting daily with the once fallen prince, who was now the revered emperor.

 

But back then, it was Ji Jiu, fueled by youthful zeal, who had forced the entire family into the struggle for the throne! He disregarded ancestral teachings and personal safety to fight for the fallen prince’s power, even keeping secrets from his father. Ultimately, when the incident unfolded, it nearly led to the Ji family’s annihilation. If not for the Ji family’s deep-rooted foundation, such a disaster would have resulted in their complete execution long ago.

 

The old general couldn’t help but sigh as he reminisced about the past. Back then, he was just a youth, yet he heartlessly pulled the entire Ji family into the imperial power struggle, determined to support the companion reader as emperor. When asked why, he merely said, “He will be a good emperor.”

 

Just that one statement nearly ruined the Ji family’s reputation for three generations of loyal generals.

 

He wanted that fourth prince to become emperor. Yet, that emperor was ruthless; just one year after ascending the throne, he set fire to the former crown prince and his biological brothers, killing them alive!

 

The old general looked at his son for a long time and couldn’t help but softly ask, “Back then, when you insisted on supporting him, did you ever think about today?”

 

Ji Jiu was taken aback by his father’s question, stunned for a moment before quickly regaining his composure. “Of course.”

 

“Then… why?”

 

Ji Jiu did not answer but stared at the military map spread out on the table for a long time. Finally, he lowered his eyes and said in a low voice, “I am the son of a general and have been studying military texts since childhood, destined to go into battle and kill enemies. Other princes may become good emperors… but only the Fourth Prince makes me feel… that I can become a general renowned throughout the world, capable of governing the country and ensuring peace.” After a slight pause, he added, “Among the princes, only he can fulfill my ambitions.” The other princes only wish to sit on the throne and possess the world before them, lacking that kind of ambition.

 

Old General Ji understood. Indeed, which general does not want to achieve eternal fame? Which emperor does not want to sweep across the world? They simply admire each other.

 

So, at a time before Ji Jiu reached maturity, he was willing to sacrifice his life for him. And now, the emperor is willing to fulfill his ideals. This is their shared aspiration.

 

Even though they know that once ideals become reality, what awaits them will be the common outcomes of history, they remain unflinching.

 

The old general sat back down in his chair, looked again at the map, and finally said, “I can only hope that you achieve your wish and that one day on the battlefield, you can perish together with the Xiongnu while ensuring the safety of your family.”

 

“Don’t worry, Father,” Ji Jiu replied with a slight smile, “Once the Xiongnu are defeated, I will die.”

 

Each word was heavy with meaning.

 

He had clearly plotted out the territories of the world, just waiting for the right moment to make waves!

 

As night fell, a few bonfires were lit in the open space of the military camp, and soldiers sat in a circle around them, holding rough porcelain bowls to fill their stomachs. Ji Jiu emerged from the dungeon, and above the dungeon, the air was filled with the aroma of food, mixed with the smell of sweat from the soldiers and the rank odor of livestock from the nearby stable. These chaotic scents swirled together, enveloping the sky above the military camp.

 

Yet, there was a sense of returning home.

 

Ji Jiu also took a rough porcelain bowl, filled it with some soup, grabbed two hard flatbreads, and sat down next to the soldiers.

 

The soldiers were accustomed to it; seeing him arrive, they instinctively made some room. Once Ji Jiu sat down, the group resumed their eating and drinking in silence. After finishing their meal, the weary soldiers returned to their tents to rest, while those on duty took their long spears and returned to their posts, relieving their brothers so they could rest.

 

Everything proceeded smoothly and orderly. Life in the military camp was always like this—there was no pleasure, no leisure. They were always tense, constantly alert and ready to draw their weapons to face the enemy.

 

Although it had been three years without war, the commanding officer was strict in training, and the troops had never shown a hint of disorder. There were no gatherings for drinking or gambling. Some people whispered in secret, saying this army was known as the Ji Family Army.

 

It wasn’t an exaggeration. The commander of the army was Old General Ji, and aside from Ji Jiu, many of the other leaders were also from the Ji family. However, with three generations of famous generals, the Ji family had deep roots, and no one dared to speak too freely. There were speculations in the court that the emperor had risen to power with the Ji family’s support, fearing that the Ji family would grow more powerful and become a future threat in the court. Such rumors had never ceased for a day. The Ji family could only work even more diligently in military affairs, not daring to relax. Ji Jiu had once joked that the more precarious they felt, the quicker the ice would crack.

 

Though he said it in jest, it was not a joke at all. Both generals of the Ji family knew that this ice beneath their feet would eventually break. They had both thought that the day would come when the Xiongnu would be subdued.

 

But no one expected that Ji Jiu had already made a decision in his heart—to exchange his unparalleled youth for the peace and joy of the Ji family for decades to come.

 

Thus, Ji Jiu, the eldest son, grew up only reading literature and was not taught martial arts.

 

Sometimes Ji Jiu thought about his son, feeling it was a distant matter. He was just an ordinary person, and even if he paved the way for his descendants, it would only be for a few decades; he could no longer manage or wish to manage what would happen afterward. By then, he would no longer be around—after I die, who cares about the floods?

 

After eating, Ji Jiu returned to his tent to rest. However, he could not sleep, so he put on a robe, lit the oil lamp, and got up to read. Just as he finished reading a page, the candle flickered and then extinguished.

 

Ji Jiu’s heart sank, and he maintained his previous posture, remaining completely still. The candlelight had gone out and did not reignite. Opposite the table, a shadow gradually emerged. That figure was so familiar; in just one night, Ji Jiu had etched it deep into his memory. At that moment, he felt a chill throughout his body, as if falling into an ice cave.

 

Ji Jiu wanted to speak; he opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried to stand up, but found his hands and feet no longer responded to his will—he couldn’t move at all.

 

Even in the darkness, Ji Jiu could see a pair of eyes, like a beast lurking deep in the forest, with an undeniable light. He felt as if he were being firmly watched like prey.

 

That person moved closer, bending slightly at the waist, their cold yet burning gaze scanning his face, as if surveying their territory. That person looked for a long time, then leaned close to his ear, whispering, “You’re afraid of me.”

 

That person said: you’re afraid of me. The voice was hoarse, with a metallic coldness, hiding an undeniable sadness. Ji Jiu, however, could not discern it.

 

All Ji Jiu heard was that person say: you’re afraid of me. The tone was straightforward, almost provocative. Ji Jiu scoffed coldly in his heart, knowing he couldn’t speak, so he chose not to respond. Whether he was afraid or not, whether he admitted it or not, made no difference to him. He was currently restrained by this demon, unable to move, and even lacked the opportunity to call out to anyone. To sit and wait for death was probably the best description of his current situation.

 

Ji Jiu remained silent, and that person maintained their close position, both parties silently holding their ground.

 

Time slowly passed. Ji Jiu’s mind gradually calmed down as he stared into that person’s eyes, revealing a kind of hardened defiance. He had already endured the worst of experiences—shame and pain; one time was no different from two. Ji Jiu understood this well. He could not change the current situation, at least not now. He was the clear-minded Ji Jiu, able to distinguish between pros and cons, never allowing himself to fall into chaos. So, if he could not turn the situation around, he would just have to endure it with gritted teeth. Such things were unavoidable; he could only endure the humiliation, but he would never let himself compromise. He absolutely would not compromise!

 

Ji Jiu’s eyes were filled with anger, brimming with unmasked hatred, the flames of resentment igniting in his eyes, burning the other person’s gaze.

 

That person reached out a hand, stroking his face, the icy fingers brushing against his skin with a trace of trembling that was not easily perceived.

 

Ji Jiu could not bear the humiliation and gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly. He would no longer look at him. In his past life, he would gaze at him with longing; in this life, he couldn’t even spare a glance for him.

 

The reason was simple—his previous life had willingly given up everything for Shen Qingxuan, but he had become the ambitious Ji Jiu in this life.

 

In the worldly realm of wealth and nobility, Yi Mo thought, in his previous life, Shen Qingxuan sacrificed everything for him, not seeking fame or fortune, merely managing their small family in Yong City and accompanying him. In this life, Ji Jiu should give up his love and only pursue ambition. He could not help but think, if Shen Qingxuan in his previous life hadn’t been so infatuated with him, would Ji Jiu in this life be able to wash away the filth and remain by his side? Yi Mo did not know.

 

Those fates were too mysterious; he had only cultivated for a thousand years, and how could he see through them?

 

Yi Mo stopped his hand from stroking.

 

After waiting for a moment, Ji Jiu opened his eyes again.

 

The candlelight flickered back to life.

 

That person had stepped back, standing in front of him. Ji Jiu still did not move, quietly observing the changes.

 

Yi Mo looked down at him for a long time before saying, “You are burdened with too much blood on your hands; your life is precious but short.”

 

Ji Jiu was taken aback by this sudden statement, then he coldly laughed. He knew very well that his life would be short; if he lived long, it would truly ruin the Ji family. To protect his descendants, he would have to have a short life. Yi Mo noticed his disdain and understood his thoughts. He couldn’t help but think about the more than one hundred and fifty years of searching; in this life, even if he looked from afar, how long could he actually watch? Just over ten years at best. Once the time limit was reached, with such heavy killing karma, who knew if he would even be reincarnated as a human again, perhaps as a beast? At that time, where would he go to find him? Where could he find him? After a moment of silence, he said, “I want to hold you.”

 

Ji Jiu scoffed even more and remained silent. He did not know that the magical restraint had been lifted; he just did not want to speak another word to him.

 

Then he was picked up and carried toward the bed.

 

His face had turned pale, and his body was stiff, like a puppet.

 

Yi Mo held the stiff body tightly in his arms, as if he were still embracing Shen Qingxuan from that life who loved him but dared not express it; Shen Qingxuan, who knew the paths of humans and demons were different but still wanted to hold on; Shen Qingxuan, who knew holding on was wrong but could not bear to let go; Shen Qingxuan, who even a single word of affection had to be hidden until death… fearing that in the next life he would search for him, fearing that he would truly fall in love and suffer during the search.

 

Some things can only be clearly seen after a hundred years have passed. Gradually, he understood how Shen Qingxuan had lived every day in that era, trembling and yet unable to restrain his emotions.

 

Yi Mo held Ji Jiu tightly in his embrace, the breaths of the person in his arms heavy with restraint, the body rigid and unyielding.

 

The night grew late.

 

Ji Jiu lay on the bed without a single thread of cotton, the person beside him holding him, both equally bare. Their bodies were forced to intertwine beneath the thin blanket, and large drops of sweat formed on Ji Jiu’s forehead, dampening the corners.

 

From beginning to end, Yi Mo locked him tightly in his embrace, as if cradling a rare treasure, careful yet forceful, as if afraid someone would take him away. Occasionally, he would lower his head to lick the damp forehead, tasting the salty sweat, salty enough to make his tongue bitter. In his movements, stray strands of hair brushed against his lips, and Yi Mo gently kissed, a posture of devotion invisible to both him and Ji Jiu.

 

Ji Jiu’s eyes remained closed, unable to see him or the reflection of himself in his eyes. This was only the second time he had experienced such a thing, unable to discern right from wrong, light from heavy, and he had no thoughts on the matter.

 

What he did not know was that the person on him was always moving carefully and gently, like a tiger delicately sniffing a rose.