Encountering a Snake - Chapter 15

v3c15

 

Leaving Luo Fu Mountain and traveling south for hundreds of miles, they arrived at another city.

 

Willows lined the roads, their shade stretching over the path. Sitting beside Shen Jue, Liu Yan was just about to remark on the picturesque scenery when a gust of wind blew past, shaking the willow branches overhead and scattering a few leaves.

 

One falling leaf heralds the coming of autumn.

 

It was already autumn.

 

Their journey of sightseeing and exploration had been leisurely, and without realizing it, two months had passed since they left the mountain. Liu Yan played with a willow leaf in his hand and asked Shen Jue where they were. Shen Jue replied, “It seems the city ahead is Yongcheng.”

 

Yongcheng. A return to an old haunt.

 

Having no specific destination in mind, they simply wandered, choosing paths based on scenic beauty. The rugged roads eventually brought them here—the place where they had first met. Perhaps there truly was a kind of fate at work. Liu Yan turned back and smiled at the drowsy man inside the carriage, saying, “Yi Mo, we’ve arrived at Yongcheng.”

 

Yi Mo murmured something about how they had ended up here and then lazily instructed Shen Jue, “Enter the city.”

 

Upon passing through the city gates, the main street was dotted with scattered pedestrians: travelers with their bundles, vendors carrying goods, and workers entering the city with firewood on their backs. Over two centuries had passed, yet the city appeared unchanged. Officials stood before the county office, vendors shouted their wares, melon stalls remained where they always had been, tea pavilions still served customers, and the city walls looked just as before, though now slightly aged.

 

Two centuries of time had left the city seemingly untouched, but the people Liu Yan once knew were gone, leaving him to face a reality of familiar places yet unfamiliar faces.

 

Liu Yan paused under a tree for a moment, following his memories to a particular inn. The inn still stood, with its signboard unchanged, just like everything else in the city. The craftsmanship and trades had been passed down from generation to generation. Yet the old innkeeper with his rosy cheeks had been replaced by a youthful clerk behind the counter.

 

The three ordered a few small dishes, and Liu Yan asked the waiter, “Do you still have your apricot wine?” The waiter answered cheerfully, “Yes, we do.”

 

The wine was brought to their table, and each of them was poured a cup. Even the taste remained unchanged—tart with a hint of spiciness, followed by a rich and sweet aftertaste.

 

These traditions, passed down from fathers to sons, generation after generation, were a testament to resilience. Unless upheavals disrupted this continuity, such traditions could persist for thousands of years, as constant as the rising and setting of the sun.

 

The people here lived where their ancestors had once lived, working hard and celebrating their harvests. Any changes were so subtle they were almost imperceptible.

 

Liu Yan wanted to visit the Shen residence, curious to see what it had become.

 

Leaving the inn, Liu Yan led the way, passing through Wuyi Lane, winding around bends, crossing Qingfeng Bridge—a bridge he had once funded for construction—and finally arriving at the familiar courtyard gate after walking through a shaded alley.

 

The vermilion gate still bore lion-head knockers. Turning back to glance at Yi Mo and Shen Jue, Liu Yan’s expression betrayed a faint nervousness.

 

“Knock,” Yi Mo said.

 

Liu Yan grasped the knocker and, without hesitation, rapped on the door.

 

The person who answered was the master of the house. Peeking out through the crack, he swept his gaze over the visitors before his face briefly lit up with an inexplicable joy.

 

“Are you travelers?” The middle-aged man’s joy was fleeting, and his demeanor quickly returned to calm. His features carried a certain elegance, and his eyes exuded a composed tranquility—dignified and serene.

 

Even at his age, his eyes remained bright, unlike the clouded gaze of ordinary people. He noted their attire and easily deduced their identities.

 

As they were traveling for leisure, none of them had taken measures to conceal themselves. Even Yi Mo had tied his hair back and adopted a simple appearance to avoid attracting attention and disrupting their enjoyment of the journey.

 

“Yes,” Liu Yan said, bowing slightly. “We’re weary from the road and came to ask for some water. Apologies for the intrusion.”

 

The middle-aged man invited them inside, not just to drink water but to the main hall, where he prepared a full meal and wine for them, personally hosting the banquet. His hospitality was puzzlingly enthusiastic.

 

Noticing their confusion, the host explained, “To be honest, my wife is about to give birth, and according to local custom…”

 

He didn’t finish, but Liu Yan immediately understood and gestured for him to stop explaining further. He knew the custom well—on the first day of the expected birth month, the first visitor to the household, whether a stranger or acquaintance, determined the child’s gender: a man signified a boy, and a woman, a girl. Though not always accurate, it was a local belief. Coincidentally, their group was the first to visit on this day.

 

It was a remarkable coincidence.

 

What was strange, however, was that in such a prominent household, not a single guest had arrived by late afternoon. Liu Yan, observing the host’s noble demeanor, felt he could ask without offending and inquired about it.

 

The host explained, “It’s indeed peculiar. On normal days, guests come even without invitation. But today, not a soul has arrived.” Smiling, he added, “It seems this unborn child of ours is fated to meet you three.”

 

Liu Yan agreed that it seemed like fate. With the ice broken, the four of them relaxed over drinks, chatting about various topics. After some time, Liu Yan remembered to ask, “What is your family name, sir?”

 

The host, realizing his earlier oversight, smiled apologetically and replied, “My surname is Shen.”

 

“…Shen?” Liu Yan instinctively glanced at Yi Mo and then at Shen Jue, his expression turning peculiar. “Could it be your family was the one ordered to be executed…”

 

“Indeed,” the Shen elder replied with a smile. “You’re quite young, yet well-informed.”

 

Looking at the man’s face, Liu Yan thought he could faintly discern traces of Shen Hai. The unexpected encounter with a descendant of the Shen family left Liu Yan momentarily stunned. Seeing this, Yi Mo remarked, “My son’s surname is also Shen.”

 

Suddenly thrust into the conversation, Shen Jue, though puzzled, quickly bowed and said, “I am Shen Jue.”

 

The elder paused, muttering, “Shen Jue?” The name sounded familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before, but he couldn’t recall. Studying Yi Mo, he found it hard to reconcile this formidable presence with being a father to such a grown son. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, he merely smiled and said, “It must truly be fate. May I ask where you three are headed? If you’re not in a hurry, why not stay for a couple of days so I can properly host you?”

 

Liu Yan had wanted to explore the residence anyway, so with the host’s invitation, he readily agreed. They would stay for two days, wander the city, and continue their journey afterward.

 

After some more idle chatter, Shen Senior called a servant to lead them to their rooms.

 

The three followed a young servant through the corridors, taking in their surroundings. The estate was unfamiliar, with pavilions, lotus ponds, peach groves, and winding corridors unfolding layer by layer in an intricate layout.

 

Perhaps it wasn’t easy for the Shen family to reclaim their name, and one can only imagine how much effort it took to buy back this old residence and restore the garden. The Shen residence had once again become the Shen residence.

 

But the masters of the house had likely changed through countless generations.

 

As they walked, a faint fragrance drifted through the air, sometimes near and sometimes far. Intrigued, Liu Yan paused and asked the servant what kind of fragrance it was.

 

The servant sniffed and replied, “It wasn’t here before, so I don’t know.”

 

Liu Yan became even more curious and insisted on finding out. The servant, also curious and mindful of their distinguished guests, ran off to inquire. After a few rounds of questioning, he reached the steward, who promptly came over, dismissed the servant, and personally led them to trace the source of the fragrance.

 

Following the lotus pond for a while, they came upon a small path, which eventually led to a nunnery.

 

Liu Yan stopped in front of the nunnery. Though it had been newly renovated and no longer looked the same as it once had, he recognized it immediately—it was the place his mother had used for meditation over 200 years ago, back when he was Shen Qingxuan.

 

At the base of the steps leading to the nunnery, lush orchids had been planted. Despite the season, these orchids were budding. Though not yet in full bloom, their fragrance was already stirring in the air.

 

The steward was equally surprised. “These orchids were brought in from the south two years ago. After more than a year without blooming, we assumed they were the wrong variety. Who would have thought they’d bloom today?” He added, “It seems the three of you truly share a special connection with my family.”

 

Afterward, the steward escorted them to rest while hurrying back to report to the master of the house.

 

Master Shen and the steward discussed the matter at length. In the end, Master Shen said, “No guests arrived all day except for these three, and now the orchids are budding. These three carry an extraordinary air. If there’s any significance, it must be auspicious and perhaps symbolic. Who are we to comprehend it?” He laughed freely, dismissed the steward, and closed his door to return to his book.

 

After reading a couple of lines, a sudden thought struck him. Shen Jue—wasn’t that the name of the great general who served Emperor Chen Wen?

 

His grandfather had once told him that this general was a member of the Shen family—or rather, not entirely human.

 

Such secrets had naturally been passed down to the eldest son, and he, as the 19th-generation eldest grandson of the Shen family, had inherited the knowledge.

 

Though suspicious, Master Shen didn’t hesitate. He opened his door and quickly headed for the Shen family’s ancestral hall.

 

The recently rebuilt hall housed ancestral tablets neatly arranged, and the family genealogy, carefully restored and copied, was kept in a wooden box.

 

Master Shen opened the box, took out the genealogy, and carefully leafed through it. He spent an hour in the hall before emerging and hurrying to the guest quarters, where he knocked on Liu Yan’s door.

 

Inside, the three were discussing the Shen family. It turned out that the current Master Shen was the grandson of Shen Hai. A year after Emperor Chen Wen’s death, Shen Hai had also passed away. At that time, Shen Hai’s eldest son had been in service for five years, working in the Crown Prince’s household. Within ten years of Emperor Chen Wen’s death, Shen Hai’s son had fulfilled his father’s lifelong wish by clearing the Shen family’s century-old injustice.

 

From then on, however, a new rule was added to the family precepts: no descendants were allowed to enter officialdom.

 

Just as they were saying this, there was a knock on the door.

 

Yi Mo seemed slightly exasperated, rubbing his temples. “The Shen family—always so troublesome,” he said, waving his hand. The door opened on its own.

 

Liu Yan caught the undertone in his words. Watching Master Shen at the door, he deliberated for a moment but remained seated.

 

Master Shen entered, scrutinizing Shen Jue seriously. After a long time, he finally said, “Are you the General Shen who suddenly surrendered the tiger tally and vanished from the world?”

 

By now, Shen Jue had picked up on the hints from his two fathers. Pausing briefly, he replied, “I am.”

 

Master Shen knelt immediately.

 

Had he knelt to the other two, it might have been fine, but kneeling to Shen Jue while two elders were present was entirely inappropriate. Shen Jue hurriedly looked to Yi Mo. “Father.”

 

Yi Mo ignored him.

 

Shen Jue tried again. “Dad.”

 

Liu Yan waved a hand dismissively. “What does this have to do with me? Handle it yourself.”

 

Those two words of address seemed to enlighten Master Shen. He looked up at Yi Mo and asked, “Are you, by chance, surnamed Yi?”

 

Yi Mo grunted affirmatively. “Stand up.”

 

Master Shen rose. In the room, the four of them shared a silent understanding, no words necessary.

 

Liu Yan stood and said, “It’s time for us to leave.”

 

Master Shen turned to him. “Sir, is your surname Liu?”

 

Liu Yan replied, “It can also be Shen.”

 

Master Shen prepared to kneel again, but Liu Yan held him up with one hand, saying lightly, “I’ve fought hard for this life. Though there are past ties, they mean little to me now. Besides, considering our ages, this kneeling of yours might just shorten my lifespan.”

 

A simple statement left Master Shen in a dilemma. Not kneeling before his ancestor seemed unfilial, but kneeling was evidently inappropriate.

 

Liu Yan chuckled. “You must know I’m not one for formalities. Why get hung up on such trivialities?”

 

Master Shen naturally recalled the family stories. The 13th-generation eldest grandson of the Shen family had once formed a bond with a demon, living as husband and wife and raising a child together.

 

Master Shen acknowledged this with a hum, stepped aside, and asked, “Where are you going?”

 

“I don’t know,” Liu Yan said truthfully. But his candor was misunderstood as deliberate concealment. Helpless, Master Shen could only let it go. Even if he wished to serve them, it was clear their freedom meant more. To him, these three were practically immortals, far beyond his ability to constrain.

 

He simply said, “You promised to stay two days. Why leave so soon?”

 

“Freedom is a habit,” Yi Mo said. His raised eyebrows and calm demeanor left Master Shen flustered. “Goodbye,” Yi Mo added.

 

Shen Jue walked over to open the door, and the three stepped out. But just as they were leaving, Master Shen called out from behind, “Master Yi, please wait. There’s one thing…”

 

“What is it?” Yi Mo asked.

 

“When the Shen family faced disaster, part of the genealogy was damaged during our escape. When it was redone…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“My father placed your name beside our ancestor Shen Qingxuan. Is that acceptable?”

 

Noticing the subtle expressions on the three, Master Shen became genuinely apprehensive. He quickly added, “It’s because of that mountain stone inscription. The words ‘widowed husband’ have yet to fade under wind and rain. So, my father made the decision…”

 

Yi Mo interrupted, “It’s acceptable.”

 

“What?”

 

Yi Mo stood still and repeated firmly, “It’s perfectly acceptable!”

 

He turned to look at Liu Yan, who was also gazing at him. Their eyes met, and each saw the smile in the other’s.

 

After all the mountains and rivers they had traversed, it all came down to this moment—a quiet sigh: So, you were here.