Encountering a Snake - Chapter 23

V3C23

The rain had stopped, and the droplets slid off the leaves and fell, making a sound that was both desolate and lonely. This summer night was no different from others—the rain came quickly and left just as hastily, leaving behind washed mountains and streams, and echoes of solitude.

Inside the room, the candlelight was dim, the flame small as a bean, flickering faintly in the uncontrollable airflow—many things in this world are beyond human control, like the air, like love.

The black snake, devoid of intelligence, still bit into Liu Yan, its fangs embedded in his flesh, releasing venom. If it had memories, it would recall that on the day it foolishly carried the young Liu Yan home, it had been fed a golden pill that protected Liu Yan for a lifetime from its poison—it no longer remembered.

At this moment, it was just a snake, without magic, without human form, and without memory. It acted on instinct alone, without needing to consider human relationships or the intentions of the one it bit.

Liu Yan continued to stroke its back, his hand steady, his expression serene. He had foreseen this long ago, and his heart was unshaken, calmly facing it all. It wasn’t just that his mind was composed; perhaps it was also because there was only one path forward, with no other options.

Under his touch, the scales were still cold, layers of small scales fitting together perfectly, gleaming with a flawless hardness. Though smaller now, the black snake still carried an air of intimidation. Liu Yan’s palm moved against the scales, brushing upward against the grain. His hand stung slightly, as though cut by a blade. In this world, any act against the current is always painful.

For example, the separation of humans and demons had always been an immutable truth. Three hundred years had passed, and such pain had never faded.

Outside the window, the shadows of trees swayed. Liu Yan didn’t know how long the snake in his arms would keep biting, nor did he know when Shen Jue would return. Sitting in the dark room, the mountain wind had blown out the oil lamp on the table through the window lattice. In the quiet room, Liu Yan cradled the snake, which continued to bite him in a coiled hold. Neither let go. Neither loosened their grip. This stalemate stretched time to its utmost limit, as though it had frozen, no longer advancing. Liu Yan felt himself becoming a statue trapped in time, eroded into ash.

But gradually, the snake in his arms slowly withdrew its fangs from his flesh, as if it had sensed something. Its tongue flicked out constantly, probing the warmth of the body in front of it, searching for its scent and taste.

It began to move over Liu Yan, slithering into his collar and pressing against his skin, sliding from his chest to his back, its entire body slipping beneath his clothes.

The cold, smooth snake body felt like a rope brushing against his skin. Liu Yan looked at the bulging fabric of his clothes in confusion, unsure of its intent. When the snake was stopped by his waistband and could no longer move downward, Liu Yan hesitated briefly before untying it. In the darkness, his clothes fell open without a hint of embarrassment.

Sensing his cooperation, the black snake paused briefly at his waist. Its tongue flicked quickly across his lower abdomen before continuing downward. It stopped between Liu Yan’s thighs, as if in doubt, and did not go further, remaining motionless.

In a flash of realization, Liu Yan understood. He reached out to pull the snake away, tied his clothes back up, and carried it to the bed.

This time seemed different. The black snake did not resist his hands but instead, with a wary stillness, allowed him to grasp it. After taking a few steps, Liu Yan placed the snake on the bed, spreading out the thin blanket, allowing it to search for a scent—its own scent.

The scent was everywhere here, Liu Yan thought—on this bed and on himself, all imbued with Yi Mo’s essence. In that moment, Liu Yan finally understood why Yi Mo had not let him wash after their union the previous night.

Yi Mo knew that preserving his scent meant that even in his snake form, he would not easily harm Liu Yan. Yet the rain had washed away the deliberately left traces, and when Liu Yan reached out his hand, he had been bitten.

Yi Mo hadn’t anticipated the rain. Or perhaps he had known it would rain but hadn’t known Liu Yan would stand there waiting for their return. There were many things Yi Mo didn’t plan for, and yet for everything within his control, he always did his best.

This was Yi Mo’s gentleness.

As a naturally lazy snake demon, even his expressions of tenderness were indifferent and languid. At his most passionate, he had only said, “I like you,” with no further sweet words. Yet everything he did silently defined those four simple words in the best possible way.

The simplest four words, words that many could say—whether through tears or shouts—could not compare to Yi Mo’s quiet, unembellished delivery of them.

“I like you,” Yi Mo had once said, his tone calm, as if stating a fact.

He had spent many, many years expressing this sentence.

And he had spent many years cultivating the quiet, aged tenderness behind those words.

The one-of-a-kind tenderness of Yi Mo.

Liu Yan sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes damp without him realizing. In the darkness, the snake roamed the bed searching, then slithered to the ground, moving around the room. It followed his scent for a long while, as though guided by some divine force, before returning to the bed. It climbed up Liu Yan’s ankle and coiled its way back up.

The warm body that radiated constant heat immediately caught him, holding him close.

The black snake, having been frightened all day, made no resistance, burrowing into his clothes. Its tail coiled around his waist, resting against the warmest spot on Liu Yan’s abdomen.

It had returned to his embrace.