Encountering a Snake - Chapter 8

V2C8

Perhaps a very short, or perhaps a long time had passed. Ji Jiu felt as if he had merely blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the person behind him had already withdrawn, leaving him. If it weren’t for the blood soaking his body, he would think it was all just an illusion.

An illusion. There had been no assassination, no heartache, no rivers of blood.

Ji Jiu turned over weakly, his mind blank. In that brief moment, everything ceased to exist.

What was the point? Ji Jiu lay silently on the blood-stained bed, staring at the dark ceiling. He wasn’t a fool; he was sharp-witted, how could he not notice the tenderness the other person displayed every time they embraced? The careful posture, the constraining hugs, the gentle tenderness with which he explored him… Even on their wedding night, Ji Jiu had to admit that he had never been this gentle with his wife.

But so what?

It felt like an illusion. No matter how sweet the affection, he was still Ji Jiu, unwilling to be pressed beneath him. Those tender moments were nothing more than a joke.

Just a grand farce! Ji Jiu thought, then closed his eyes, unable to speak through his sorrow.

He was a clever man. Had he not suspected that this matter was not as simple as animosity? The intimacy of physical connection was the most profound act in the world; the other’s body, skin, muscles, bones, the breath exhaled… nothing was left concealed. Ji Jiu understood that kind of longing. Yet understanding led to disbelief.

How could he trust? What would trust change? All he knew was that the other person was a demon; he knew nothing else. The only thing he was certain of was that he was Ji Jiu. For over twenty years, he had walked a single path, now finding himself on this road with no other way out. Behind him were a wife and children, upon his shoulders lay responsibilities; he was Ji Jiu, destined to make a mark in history. This sudden appearance of a demon was an obstacle he had to overcome, something to be swept away.

Ji Jiu touched the dampness beneath him, lifted his hand to the dim light of the oil lamp, watching the red stains on his palm, varying shades of red flickering in the light, appearing like a crimson silk veil over his eyes, that pervasive vividness, flooding everywhere.

The spot over his heart began to ache again, and the place behind him where anger had been unleashed seemed to awaken from its numbness, sending waves of pain.

Ji Jiu sat up, bending down to pick up the robe thrown on the ground and put it back on, his steps unsteady as he walked out of the tent. Pain engulfed him; every part of him hurt, and as the pain reached his brain, Ji Jiu wanted to go out for a walk.

Just as he stepped outside the tent, he instinctively glanced beside him, only to be slightly taken aback; the person who was supposed to be on guard was not at his post.

Shen Jue was not here.

At that moment, Ji Jiu recalled the incident of having been caught earlier and felt a tightening in his heart, unable to help but worry that it might spread. With the person currently absent, the concern grew heavier. Ji Jiu, disregarding his discomfort, hurriedly searched through the camp.

While searching, he encountered a patrolling soldier and grabbed him to ask. The soldier pointed to the open ground outside the camp, saying he had seen Shen Jue leave. Ji Jiu immediately chased after him.

Outside the camp was a single wide path, originally grassland, which had been trampled into dirt by horse hooves. Ji Jiu searched around the path, thought for a moment, then turned onto a small path on the right, stepping onto the dewy grass, advancing into the darkness. Until he heard the sound of flowing water; the river at night rushed along, sparkling with starlight, shimmering with brilliant light. Ji Jiu stopped, looked around the grass, and recognized the scenery; this was the river he had once jumped into.

The sound of the flowing water was tranquil yet exuberant. In the quiet yet noisy sounds, Ji Jiu heard murmurs.

Following the sound, he saw two shadows by a thick willow tree, standing face to face, appearing very familiar with one another, engaged in conversation. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Ji Jiu knew they were the two who should never be together: one was the demon he had just stabbed, and the other was Shen Jue.

Ji Jiu felt a sense of betrayal. It was the kind of betrayal one feels from those close to them, unbearable to endure.

Though the time was short, Shen Jue had given him a feeling that was familiar. In the fleeting moment when their eyes met, he would reveal a childlike expression; sometimes Ji Jiu could sense that this person had been quietly watching him, his eyes filled with reluctance, like a sparrow yearning for its nest. He didn’t know when it began, but Ji Jiu had also come to regard him as his own child, maintaining an authoritative tone in conversation yet harboring a bit of indulgence.

Ji Jiu silently crouched in the grass, reeds and thorns rising above his head, as if monstrous beasts were surging from all directions, ready to swallow him whole.

After an unknown amount of time, Ji Jiu finally snapped back to reality from the shock and the pain in his heart, suddenly self-mocking: why bother?

It had always been this way; why bother? Thinking this, his face regained its calm and composure, as the moonlight filtered through the layers of overlapping branches and leaves onto his face, unexpectedly giving him a hint of coldness.

Ji Jiu silently turned to leave, but at that moment, he heard a familiar voice not far away, urgently shouting: “Father, what on earth do you want to do!”

Ji Jiu’s whole body froze.

That familiar voice was youthful and vibrant, now filled with anger as it shouted: “Do you not know his character is one to resist when faced with force? Why are you being so aggressive! What do you want to do?”

As Ji Jiu listened to that voice, upon understanding the words, his mind went blank, stunned and unable to comprehend. Could it be that they were father and son? Was that person speaking actually him?

After contemplating for a moment, Ji Jiu returned to his original position, even pushing three steps further ahead, re-hiding in the shadows, slowing his breath to listen intently.

But then, there was no more sound. There actually was a sound; he heard another voice, but it was so distant, like an echo from another world. No matter how much he strained to listen, he couldn’t make out those whispers.

Yi Mo was bewildered.

Facing the first outburst of anger from the young one, Yi Mo’s expression showed a hint of confusion.

He clutched the dagger, examining it closely in the faint light of the stars and moon; the bloodstains had not yet dried, exuding a faint, sweet scent. After staring at the dagger for a long time, he lifted his gaze to the boy before him, the one who called him father, and asked in confusion, “Why, having come this far, do I still not want to let go?”

He asked about Xiaobao, but it felt more like he was asking himself.

Shen Jue was taken aback for a moment, pondering something, and the anger on his face faded slightly, his eyes dimming. “Father… I thought you were looking for him because you couldn’t bear to part with him.”

However, Yi Mo was also slightly stunned but quickly replied, “Yes.”

“But…” Shen Jue hesitated, voicing his speculation slowly. “Is it also to force yourself to let go?”

Yi Mo visibly stiffened, remaining silent.

Shen Jue was momentarily speechless, a sour feeling welling up in his eyes. He quickly turned his face away and looked at the river flowing under the moonlight. After a moment, he said, “Father wants to become an immortal; I understand… I know.” Yi Mo still remained silent, as if he had nothing to say. Shen Jue waited for a moment before continuing, “But this is unfair to him. In his last life, he was infatuated with you, seeking you without success, yet he had no complaints. He didn’t let you seek him because he couldn’t bear to see you suffer like this. But you insist on seeking him, fully aware that it would come to this… And when you found him, you hurt him, forcing him to retaliate, allowing you to take advantage and pull back, devoting yourself to cultivation to become an immortal.” As Shen Jue spoke, his voice grew hoarse, tinged with resentment. “Is becoming an immortal really that great? If I had no father, if I were all alone in this world, I wouldn’t want it at all!”

Perhaps the child’s anger stirred him, as Yi Mo’s expression changed, and he said, “But I have lived for nearly two thousand years, all for the purpose of becoming an immortal.” He spoke firmly, but his tone bore a hint of confusion, as if he were a naive child whose two-thousand-year goal had been dismissed by a single statement from Xiaobao, causing him to waver.

“But regarding today’s matter, father yourself said that it has already reached this point, yet you still do not want to let go?” Shen Jue said. “If you can’t let go of him, how can you become an immortal?!”

Upon hearing this, Yi Mo lowered his head slightly and asked him, “So what if that’s the case?” So what if that were the case? Yi Mo moved the dagger, a silver light glinting in the moonlight, piercing his sight and heart alike.

He sought him because he missed him, but he also knew that this longing couldn’t be eradicated; it would hinder his ability to cultivate. The first time they met, that person was entangled with his wife in tender moments; the beautiful scenery had pierced his heart, and he had taken him forcefully, but felt no regret.

That person was always his. The one in his arms, the one who would embrace him in winter, the one he could cherish. He was his.

After the emotional tumult, as he calmed down and surveyed his surroundings, he thought that since he had already made the first mistake, he might as well continue down this path. If they met as enemies, it wouldn’t be so bad if that person hated him a bit more. They shouldn’t have any ties in the second life; now that the ties of the first life were unbreakable, he should resolve it quickly. With anger in his heart, he contemplated killing, hoping to rid himself of that yearning for tenderness.

Once that attachment was severed, the bridge would be a bridge, and the road would be a road; there would be no more Shen Qingxuan and Yi Mo.

But the dagger piercing his heart was painful—painful to the core. The more it hurt, the more unwilling he was, and the more it proved that everything was utterly futile. He still could not let go of him.

He still wanted to hold that person tightly, wanted to bury him deep within his bones and blood, wanting to bury himself inside him, wrapped tightly in warmth, as if he were a wanderer returning home.

Yi Mo gripped the dagger tightly, its sharp edge embedding into his palm, piercing to the bone. Shen Jue noticed and quickly used his magic to snatch the dagger away, gently cradling that bloodied hand, wishing to heal the wound.

The child before him lowered his brow and eyes, having long lost the earlier anger, his expression gentle and respectful, filled with concern. Yi Mo watched, and finally withdrew his hand, as if to respond, saying, “From now on, I won’t force him.”

Shen Jue was momentarily taken aback, and after understanding, pursed his lips, revealing a smile as he softly said, “Father won’t have many years left; no one can control the matters of the next life. Why not just accompany him? Who knows what the future holds?”

Yi Mo was silent for a moment, glancing at the grass by the darkness, and said, “You should return to the camp.”

Shen Jue complied and quickly retraced his steps, but he took a different small path back.

Ji Jiu crouched in place, having not heard anything more they said. After waiting for a while and losing interest, he decided to leave. But he was intercepted midway.

Ji Jiu said, “You…”

Yi Mo looked at him, his hair disheveled, not knowing how much grass and leaves were stuck to him, with dirt smeared on his face—truly a pitiful sight. He sighed inwardly, raising his hand to wipe away the grime, and under the moonlight, he looked at Ji Jiu, whose eyes were filled with caution. “The humidity is too heavy; you should go back.”

Ji Jiu did not respond, merely staring at him for a long while before saying, “Is that your son?”

When he asked this, Yi Mo did not bother to reply. How could he be his son? Clearly, he was the child of the person in front of him. In that life, he had brought his family to him and had never been able to shake them off. Yet now he was turning his back and refusing to acknowledge it. Yi Mo couldn’t be bothered to answer this question; he simply said, “How is he like me?” Clearly, he was more like you.

Ji Jiu scrutinized his brows and eyes; indeed, there was no resemblance. He just didn’t believe Yi Mo’s words and snorted in response.

With no common ground for conversation, Ji Jiu turned to leave. But he was stopped by Yi Mo grabbing his shoulder. Ji Jiu glared back, but Yi Mo seemed to take something off his head.

Ji Jiu thought he was up to something again and turned pale. When he realized that Yi Mo had put something around his neck, he was momentarily stunned, reaching out to pull it off. “What is this?!”

Yi Mo was quite relaxed, watching him tug away until he was sweating, before kindly reminding him, “You can’t pull it off.” Having been ripped away in the last life, now in this life, trying to pull it off was nothing more than a fool’s dream.

Ji Jiu stopped his hands and looked down at the red bead on his chest. The shiny red bead was beautifully glimmering, and he couldn’t help but reach out to play with it, asking, “What is it?”

“Use this to call for me if you need anything,” Yi Mo said, reaching out to tidy up his disheveled collar, adding, “I’ll take you back.”

Without waiting for Ji Jiu to react, he waved his sleeve, sending him, along with the bead, back to the military camp tent, landing on the bed that still carried traces of blood.

In the blink of an eye, Ji Jiu fell onto the bed, furiously enraged, cursing the scoundrel, before getting up to pull the bedding and pillows off the bed, piling them on the ground, then lighting a fire to burn everything clean.

Strangely enough, although there was open fire and thick smoke in the tent, not a single wisp escaped; they all dissipated on their own.