Encountering a Snake - Chapter 32

V3C32

When Liu Yan woke up, he stared blankly for quite a while, lying on the stone table and recalling what had happened. He lowered his head and looked at the ground beside him; the basin of water he had spilled earlier was still wet and soaking into the earth. He squinted and looked at the sky, and the direction of the sun indicated he hadn’t been unconscious for long. As he stood up, the robe on his shoulders naturally slipped off, and when Liu Yan crouched to pick it up, a trace of sorrow appeared on his face.

The robe was Xu Mingshi’s. He thought, this person is gone now, never to return.

Strangely, at that moment, he didn’t think of Yi Mo at all. Not at all. It barely crossed his mind that Yi Mo might have recovered, but it was just a fleeting thought. What followed was only Xu Mingshi’s face.

From his youthful arrogance to the deep wrinkles of old age, there was hardly any transition; it happened in an instant, as though in the blink of an eye, he aged and then disappeared from the world.

Liu Yan couldn’t help but raise his hand and touch his own face, smooth and free of wrinkles. In this courtyard, whether it was he or Shen Jue, they both had youthful faces, still with many good years ahead of them. Only Xu Mingshi had been ravaged by time into an old face. Liu Yan thought this as he walked a few steps in the courtyard, following Xu Mingshi’s past footprints, looking at the flowers and birds, the ants and butterflies. He stopped after a while, crouched down, and seemed to collapse under the weight of it all, curling up against the wall where Xu Mingshi had once basked in the sun. His thoughts were full of regret.

What exactly was he sorry for? Liu Yan couldn’t explain. He just knew that Xu Mingshi was gone, without even a final farewell, leaving him with one less person to worry about in this world. As he thought about this, a deep sorrow swelled within him, though he didn’t know where it came from. It made him feel terribly uncomfortable. When it came to his reincarnations, it seemed like he had always been a heartless person. Even though he had never lacked loyalty and was always willing to help others, those who had truly entered his heart and whom he had cared about were few.

He had always been clear-headed and overly cautious, maintaining proper distance in relationships, never revealing any weaknesses, like a perfectly round sphere, without any edges, so no one could penetrate his hard shell. Those who had entered his world were the ones he himself had allowed in. Now, with one less person, he felt sad without any pretense, his eyes red as he buried his face in his knees and stayed in that posture, not knowing how long he sat there.

Shen Jue came out of the kitchen with hot water. He glanced at Liu Yan, who was curled up by the wall, hesitated for a moment, and then walked over, crouching beside him.

“Father,” Shen Jue called.

Liu Yan seemed not to hear and remained still. Shen Jue called again, and only then did Liu Yan, in a nasal voice, ask, “Has he changed his clothes?”

“He has,” Shen Jue replied.

Only then did Liu Yan lift his head. His eyes were red, but there were no tear stains, likely wiped away so no one could see. He stood up, took the hot water beside him, and walked toward the room. He had promised to personally handle Xu Mingshi’s final affairs and see him off in a dignified manner.

Upon entering the room, he passed a screen depicting a beautiful woman and saw someone sitting on the edge of the bed, helping Xu Mingshi, who was lying in the bed, put on his shoes and socks. The figure in black, exuding a wild and unruly aura, could only be Yi Mo.

Liu Yan’s hand trembled slightly, and the water in the basin rippled, wetting the white cloth draped over the side.

Yi Mo turned around, glanced at him, and then lowered his head to continue what he was doing, his demeanor unusually focused and solemn. Liu Yan remained silent, walked to the side, placed the basin down, wrung out the white cloth, and then went over to clean Xu Mingshi’s face.

Earlier, when Xu Mingshi had deliberately angered Shen Jue into drinking the chicken soup, there were still many oil stains around his mouth, even sticking to his beard, shining with grease. In the blink of an eye, he had gone from full of energy, angrily provoking Shen Jue to the point where Shen Jue nearly lost his temper, to now lying cold, never to be warmed again.

Liu Yan carefully groomed his beard, wiped away the oil stains, and tidied his messy hair into a neat bun. The elderly man, now dressed in a new set of clothes, lay there with his eyes closed, peaceful and calm, giving off a gentle, amiable appearance.

Then came the preparation for the funeral. He lit incense, burned paper money, and kept an everlasting lamp by the coffin, always attended by someone day and night, burning paper or replenishing the lamp oil.

But unlike the funeral customs of the mortal world, there were no wailing or music here—everything was silent and quiet.

Thus, the first seven days passed. The coffin was lowered into the ground.

A stone monument was placed at the grave, with a few simple lines inscribed on it, including Xu Mingshi’s name and title, as well as the names of their family.

Yi Mo stood before the grave, lighting paper money and watching the smoke and firelight. Amid the fluttering paper scraps, he said, “Xu Mingshi, I didn’t expect you to do this.”

Indeed, he never thought Xu Mingshi would do this.

He had once thought about many things. With his thousand years of cultivation, he understood that everything had cause and effect, and he knew his own merits were abundant. There might be a chance for change in the future, so he kept his life, living aimlessly in his original form. Over the past two thousand years, many beings, both humans and demons, had benefited from his kindness. Although he didn’t like to socialize and was indifferent by nature, it didn’t mean no one would help him. For example, the old immortal—how many times had he helped him? But his help was always subtle. After all, the universe was vast and ancient, and everything was governed by its rules. Life or death, rise or fall, even immortals couldn’t easily alter it.

Only when the opportunity arose could the old immortal lend a helping hand, in accordance with fate.

But he never expected that the turning point would come through Xu Mingshi.

He had waited for a chance, and then it came. The one who brought the change was Xu Mingshi. Their meeting had been so absurd, and yet it ended like this.

“Xu Mingshi,” Yi Mo shook his head, threw another string of paper money into the fire, and then gently touched the gravestone. Slowly, he said, “You should go see her now.”

Yi Mo knew many things, though he didn’t like to talk about them. For example, the little rabbit spirit that Xu Mingshi had been so concerned about, Yi Mo had known about it for a long time. Also, her soul had refused to reincarnate, continuously sitting by the Naihe Bridge, crying endlessly, to the point that the King of Underworld had to send someone to complain.

This had been revealed to him when he had ventured into the underworld after Ji Jiu’s death.

The crying that even the King of Underworld found troublesome would eventually be reported. Afterward, it would undergo scrutiny by the immortals. Both she and Xu Mingshi were of good nature, having always been kind during their lives. They deserved a happy ending. Therefore, Xu Mingshi should not have been allowed to lose his soul.

The old immortal, following the will of fate, gathered Xu Mingshi’s soul and gave him a chance to start over, to repay the little rabbit’s tears. It was a happy ending for everyone.

Yi Mo stood up, brushed off the remnants of paper money on his body, and said to Liu Yan, “Let’s go home.”

At this moment, Liu Yan finally raised his eyes and looked at Yi Mo. This was the first time he had seriously looked at him since he regained his human form.

It felt like the first time they met, as he stared at that face, even his breath seemed to vanish gradually. It was as though, upon seeing that face, he could abandon his life.

He looked at him for so long, with so many things he wanted to say, but in the end, he only softly said one sentence:

“You really came back.”

In the end, it was only such a calm and simple sentence.

Because they could still see each other, still look at each other, there was nothing in this world that could make him lose his calm.

“I’ve come back,” Yi Mo replied.

“It’s good that you’re back.”

Yi Mo looked at him and lightly asked, “If there are still obstacles, will you wait?”

—If there are still obstacles, will you wait?

Liu Yan almost immediately trembled, but he quickly calmed himself.

He could only wait. There was no other choice.

From the moment he met him, he couldn’t convince himself to give up halfway. He liked him, and it was a kind of love that could make him smile and survive even in despair, just by thinking of him. This was itself a deadlock, one that could never be untangled even after three lifetimes.

Where the heart goes, there is no choice.

“I’ll wait,” Liu Yan said.

Perhaps in the future, everything would be peaceful, and they could walk through life together, or perhaps there would be more turmoil and struggles. But what did the future matter?

He was just an ordinary human, born insignificant, unable to summon winds or rain, unable to bring people back from the dead. He had no miraculous powers. He was merely a person.

Compared to demons, ghosts, gods, and immortals, he was just an inconspicuous, lowly human, low enough to be dust.

Disasters and calamities are unavoidable for mortals. Facing them and accepting them is the only choice. But as long as life remains, waiting and hope never fade.

If something hasn’t been gained, how could it be lost? If something has truly been gained, how could one fear losing it?

“No matter what happens, I will wait,” Liu Yan said.

Yi Mo reached over and took his hand, softly saying, “There won’t be any more problems.” His voice was light, but it felt like a promise, like a vow, firm and certain.

It was then that Liu Yan’s tears quietly fell, quickly wiped away by someone, and softly told not to cry.

“Don’t cry,” Yi Mo said, holding his warm hand with warmth of his own. “I’ll accompany you until we grow old.”

— I’ll accompany you until we grow old.

He said it and did it. Holding his hand, they smiled in the morning light, embraced in the sunset, walking through fifty springs and winters. Until their black hair turned white.

In the season where autumn was at its end, he lay on the bed, looking out the window at the yellow leaves scattered on the ground after the autumn rain, as if a golden blanket had been spread out, brilliant and beautiful. They wore clean, neat robes, lying side by side.

At that moment, he heard the person beside him call his name, saying, “Next life, let me find you.”

He smiled, the corners of his lips rising into a warm and peaceful curve, wrinkles forming on his cheeks as he smiled and said, “Alright.”

“Wait for me.”

“Alright.”

He agreed, then tightened the hand he had never let go of, and quietly closed his eyes.

Hand in hand with you, growing old with you.

Walking through mountains and rivers, across the river of time, past the yellow springs and blue skies, reaching the desolate end. In the brand-new flourishing world, you are still there.

The sunlight outside the window shone through the thin curtains, entering the room. The autumn wind in the room stirred the bed curtains embroidered with peach blossoms, gently lifting them and then letting them fall, repeating, until the curtain came down.

(Encountering the Snake – The End)