Encountering a Snake - Chapter 17

V3C17

 

I am old.

 

Three lifetimes, three worlds—all summed up in these simple words. Liu Yan looked at the smooth skin of his hand and truly felt old.

 

Having over two hundred years of memories was no blessing. Mountains and rivers he walked through two centuries ago had become farmland. The wilderness of two hundred years past had turned into villages. Places where waves once roared had grown into towns. And the people he had once known were now nowhere to be found.

 

Time had shifted the people and things in his memories, washing them away with a quiet and unrelenting force.

 

Aside from the stars above, unchanged since the beginning of time, Liu Yan did not know if there was anything in this world that could remain constant. Even he, after three lives, had the same appearance, but his heart was no longer the same.

 

The sharpness and pride he once carried were no longer worth holding onto. He had already faced storms and waves—now he only hoped for a peaceful life, to preserve the quiet days of this lifetime.

 

And yet, even this wish seemed extravagant.

 

In his first two lives, he had wasted himself on unattainable desires. It seemed this life would be no exception.

 

Liu Yan lowered his eyes and asked again, “What are you hiding from me?”

 

After all, the root of his illness lay in this matter. Three lifetimes, and the stubbornness in his bones had never changed. He would not simply wait for an answer, ignorant and unaware.

 

Six months of wandering the mountains and rivers had done nothing to ease the gloom in his heart. If anything, the longer time passed, the deeper that gloom became. Ji Leping’s betrayal had only been a trigger, unleashing the burdens that had been building inside him. Thus, his fever lingered and no medicine could cure it.

 

Yi Mo had not been wrong—Liu Yan’s heart was heavy. Even when he was missing part of his soul and spirit, reduced to a fool, he had been so determined that he carved the cinnabar mark from his chest. Now, with his soul whole again, his clarity of mind and complexity of thought had fully returned.

 

Regarding the matter Yi Mo would not speak of, Liu Yan already had his suspicions. He had prepared for the worst. The so-called worst could only mean Yi Mo’s death. Liu Yan had always been indifferent toward life and death. If Yi Mo were to die, how could he live alone?

 

They would simply die together.

 

He only wanted an answer.

 

People are often like this—they cannot escape worldly conventions. Like when a husband and wife separate, the abandoned wife always insists on asking why. There is no need to ask, really. If things are already over, what’s the point of knowing the reason?

 

Liu Yan had prepared himself for the worst outcome, yet still, he wanted Yi Mo to say it aloud. This alone showed that Liu Yan was destined to be an ordinary person, unable to transcend the world and only able to live within it. Deep down, he also carried a faint, elusive hope:

 

Can you tell me—nothing is wrong?

 

Can nothing happen to us?

 

Can we simply stay together, living out a life of perfect years?

 

Can the regrets and incompleteness of the past be healed, slowly and carefully, with this lifetime?

 

He truly was old.

 

Liu Yan knew he was old—so old that he could no longer bear turmoil. After three lifetimes of entanglement and countless struggles, both of them had been bloodied by the thorns they carried. Two hundred years had finally seen those thorns removed, leaving only bloody wounds. They had just begun to hold each other close, and Liu Yan could not endure any more upheaval. If another storm came, he did not know if he could survive it.

 

Liu Yan was afraid.

 

He was afraid they would not be able to stay together, afraid that before they could tend to each other’s wounds, they would be separated once more.

 

His question was one Yi Mo knew he should not answer.

 

He should not answer because the truth was not beautiful; it was cruel—cruel enough to destroy the fragile happiness they had left. Yet Yi Mo also knew Liu Yan too well. They were married, bound together in ceremony. If Liu Yan did not get an answer, the remaining six months would see him ill, not just in body but in heart. Even if medicine healed his body, he would not truly recover. It would be like the past six months, where every day he laughed and wandered the lands, showing no visible signs of distress.

 

After a moment’s thought, Yi Mo decided to tell him. After all, there wasn’t much to say.

 

Yi Mo said, “There are six months left.”

 

Facing Liu Yan’s eyes—first doubtful, then quickly clear—Yi Mo offered no further explanation. He would not say, “Because of your three lifetimes of memories, I have only one year left.” He would never say something like that. He didn’t need to say it; Liu Yan already understood. Saying it aloud would only make Liu Yan suffer. Besides, this had been Yi Mo’s choice. Since he was willing, there was no need to speak of it. Saying it would only be excessive.

 

Liu Yan nodded, seemingly relieved. Whatever the case, he now had an answer, and it did not differ from what he had guessed.

 

“So, we only have six months left,” Liu Yan said calmly.

 

So calm that his disappointment, regrets, pain, and guilt were all carefully concealed. No one but himself could see them.

 

“Only six months,” Yi Mo echoed.

 

Liu Yan smiled faintly. “Six months is enough.”

 

Yes, enough.

 

Six months more, plus the six they had already spent—when added together and taken away, they had at least shared one year in this two-hundred-year span.

 

Three hundred and sixty-five days—enough. Enough, Liu Yan told himself. They had married, bowed at the altar, and spent one year as an ordinary married couple.

 

Liu Yan raised a hand to cover his face, murmuring softly, “It’s very good.”

 

Very good.

 

Shen Jue stood up, collected the dishes, and quietly walked out. He had known about this for some time, so he was neither surprised nor upset.

 

Life brings people together and pulls them apart. Though he was a demon, even he could not stop the fleeting fate of such meetings.

 

He was their son. A son had no other duty but to care for his parents while they were still there. Not seeking eternity, only striving to leave no regrets.

 

Yi Mo walked over, pulling Liu Yan into his arms. By his ear, he said, “Don’t cry.”

 

Liu Yan shook his head. “I’m not crying.”

 

“Mm,” Yi Mo replied softly, allowing Liu Yan to cover his eyes with his hand and not exposing the obvious lie.

 

After a moment of silent embrace, Liu Yan said softly, “In our first life, we had thirteen years.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“In our second life, we didn’t even have ten.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This life, just one year.”

 

“If you count our time together, it has already been fourteen years,” Yi Mo said gently. “But back then, you were a fool.”

 

“If you wanted a fool, perhaps it would have lasted longer.”

 

“Fool or not, I still want you.” Yi Mo smiled. “Though I’m a demon, my greed is no less than a mortal’s. So, one year is enough.”

 

This, too, was the result of his greed. Yet this outcome was one he willingly accepted. Even if it had been just a day, it would have been enough. Even if he had not had a day—just seeing him once would have been enough.

 

As long as the regrets of these three lives could be mended.

 

Let there be no unattainable desires, no partings of love, no tears—I have always loved you.

 

Breathing in the faint fragrance on the person in his arms, Yi Mo thought to himself: I love you.

 

“I love you.”

 

It was Liu Yan who said it.

 

Yi Mo chuckled softly, pulling him tighter into his embrace and said, “I know.”

 

But Liu Yan said, “I also know.”

 

These words had no preamble, but they were spoken decisively—I know I love you, so if you are not here, I will follow you.

 

If we cannot live together, then let us die together!

 

Yi Mo kissed his forehead. “Rest early, you’re still ill.”

 

Liu Yan murmured an “Mmm.” At that moment, Xiao Bao entered the room with two buckets of hot water for them to wash up. Truly, they had a home and a son, living harmoniously and beautifully. Even if only a year remained, it was enough.

 

In the past, with Shen Jue around, their intimacy always had its limits, and naturally, Liu Yan was the one who set those boundaries. But today, there was no reaction at all. He sat in Yi Mo’s arms, allowing him to untie his hair crown and then remove his outer robe.

 

When Yi Mo had stripped him down to his undergarments, Shen Jue finally left with the empty buckets. Even so, Liu Yan did not avert his gaze.

 

Once they had finished washing, Liu Yan lay in bed. The winter night was bone-chillingly cold. Yi Mo stoked the brazier, ensuring the charcoal burned gently, neither too hot to turn to ash in an instant, nor too weak to go out. It maintained a steady warmth until dawn.

 

They had once burned too intensely, and now that they wished to slow down, it was already too late.

 

Yi Mo lifted the quilt and lay down. Immediately, a warm body snuggled into him. Liu Yan’s feverish body was warmer than usual, and Yi Mo made no effort to resist, pulling him close into his embrace. The quilt was soon filled with their shared warmth.

 

Under the covers, Liu Yan’s hands were restless. At first, he stroked Yi Mo’s chest and back for a while, then his hands slid down to Yi Mo’s legs, lingering on the smooth, firm muscles before moving further between his thighs. He rubbed the area gently, grasping Yi Mo’s arousal in his palm. The entire motion was devoid of erotic intent, executed with a languid air, likely due to his illness.

 

Since Liu Yan had fallen ill, they had not shared such intimacy for quite some time. Naturally, Yi Mo had been longing for it, so when Liu Yan touched him, he immediately hardened, standing erect in Liu Yan’s hand, so large that his palm could hardly hold it.

 

Knowing Yi Mo was aroused, Liu Yan opened his eyes, his face slightly flushed. He leaned in to kiss Yi Mo’s lips, and as their lips tangled, Liu Yan murmured softly, “I miss you.”

 

The three words were spoken so tenderly, suffused with desire that seemed to envelop them entirely.

 

Yi Mo’s voice turned husky as he replied, “I miss you too.”

 

Liu Yan smiled at his response, rubbing his cheek against Yi Mo’s like a small animal seeking affection. The gesture was so intimate and docile that it softened Yi Mo’s heart. In a quiet voice, Liu Yan said, “Come inside.”

 

Concerned for Liu Yan’s condition, Yi Mo hesitated. Liu Yan urged him, “Just be slow.”

 

Yi Mo kissed him, their cheeks brushing together like two small creatures playing. At the same time, he flipped Liu Yan beneath him.

 

Their bare bodies pressed against each other as Yi Mo slowly kissed and nibbled at Liu Yan’s neck. He bit gently, then licked the spot with his tongue, his lips tracing kisses over the skin. Liu Yan let out faint sounds, a mix of pleasure and being overwhelmed, turning his head to the side to expose more of his neck. Yi Mo marked him over and over, deep and shallow red marks blooming across his skin.

 

Everyone knows that no matter how deep these marks may be, they will disappear within days—just like passion. No matter how wild and intense the climax, it will ultimately subside. But in that moment, no one can resist being entirely consumed by it.

 

After careful preparation to ensure sufficient lubrication, Yi Mo pressed himself against the entrance and slowly pushed inside. The warmth and tightness welcomed him immediately, clinging to him more fervently than usual. Yi Mo had been worried about Liu Yan’s health, but as he moved slowly, he realized Liu Yan seemed even more sensitive than before.

 

The slick, hot interior gripped him firmly, trembling faintly with each inch he pressed forward. Liu Yan’s body instinctively contracted, pulling Yi Mo deeper with every tremor, until Yi Mo was fully sheathed within him. Only then did he pause, exhaling softly.

 

Liu Yan let out a low moan, arms circling Yi Mo’s back. Though they were motionless, both of them felt the subtle throbbing in that place—one person held captive, the other holding captive, a sweet and comfortable restraint.

 

Tonight, Yi Mo was particularly slow. Each thrust was unhurried, every withdrawal gradual. Time stretched on endlessly, and the wet place being invaded seemed to burn with impatience. Liu Yan couldn’t help but let out soft moans. This time was unlike any other—so slow that his body turned to mush. Each filling thrust seemed to send waves of pleasure through him, leaving his legs too weak to hold up, spreading limply to either side.

 

Yi Mo’s breathing grew ragged. He nipped at Liu Yan’s ear and asked, “What’s gotten into you tonight? So sensitive.”

 

Liu Yan, eyes closed and face flushed, responded haltingly between his moans, “I… don’t know…” He trembled again, a sheen of sweat appearing on his skin. The heat beneath the quilt became unbearable, even for Yi Mo. When Liu Yan tried to lift the blanket, Yi Mo stopped him. Wrapping them tightly, he said, “You’re ill. Don’t catch a chill.”

 

Liu Yan’s eyes narrowed into slits, damp with unshed tears. In a soft, spoiled voice, he said, “I’m hot. Hold me tighter.”

 

In all the years Yi Mo had known him, this was the first time Liu Yan had acted so coquettishly. Unable to resist, Yi Mo bit his lips lightly and whispered, “I’m already holding you tightly.”

 

Liu Yan, muddled with fever and pleasure, murmured, “Then tighter still.”

 

Yi Mo tightened his embrace as if to pull Liu Yan into his very body. His movements remained unhurried, every thrust pressing deep against sensitive walls that clenched and fluttered around him, sending wave after wave of sensation through both of them. Liu Yan’s arms slid down from Yi Mo’s back more than once, too weak to hold on.

 

“Feels that good?” Yi Mo asked, pushing in slowly again. The wet, hot place swallowed him completely, its tightness and suction sending a rush of pleasure through him. Answering himself, he murmured, “It really does feel good.”

 

Liu Yan, lost in his own pleasure, replied vaguely, “So good…” As he spoke, he trembled violently, his hips shuddering as he spilled himself.

 

Knowing Liu Yan was unwell, Yi Mo prepared to stop, but Liu Yan refused, wrapping his soft legs around Yi Mo’s waist. In a voice tinged with desire, he whispered, “More.”

 

“…You won’t get out of bed tomorrow,” Yi Mo said, thrusting into him again with renewed vigor.

 

“When have I ever blamed you?” Liu Yan retorted faintly, though his words quickly melted into pleasure. As another wave of ecstasy surged through him, his voice softened, and he said, “There’s only half a year left. Let’s spend it like this.”

 

Yi Mo, buried deep inside him, thought to himself how perfect that suggestion was.

 

In the limited time they had left, they would spend it doing what made them happiest, bound together in the most intimate way.

 

Even knowing the inevitable end, as long as Liu Yan was by his side, there was nothing to fear.