Encountering a Snake - Chapter 33

V3C33 Extra

Side Story: The Childish God①

For many years, Shen Jue wandered outside, traveling north and south, searching for the person he sought. No one could tell him if he would ever find them, not even Yi Mo, who remained silent on the matter. The longer he searched, the less certain Shen Jue became—was this person truly still in the world? Perhaps, having committed too many misdeeds, their soul was detained in the underworld, suffering, unable to enter the cycle of reincarnation. When Shen Jue thought of this, he felt a sudden impulse to imitate Yi Mo’s actions from that year: to storm the underworld and flip through the Book of Life and Death—how could this aimless search ever come to an end?

But he was not as strong as Yi Mo, nor did he have friends by his side to help. The one person he could rely on—Yi Mo—was no longer a demon and could not assist him or break into the underworld. Even if Yi Mo could help, Shen Jue felt that he might not. He always sensed that Yi Mo was hiding something from him regarding this matter.

He could not put his father in a difficult position. So, as much as he wanted the truth, he never asked.

After life had settled down, Yi Mo urged him to continue searching, so he packed his bags and set out again. If Yi Mo told him to search, then surely it must be possible to find this person. Besides, there was nothing at home that required his care anymore. After many years of traveling, Liu Yan opened a jade shop in the picturesque Crane City, where the mountains were clear, and the waters serene. Business was neither bustling nor poor, and every so often, wealthy sons of noble families would come to pick out fine pieces to use as gifts. Liu Yan hired an old shopkeeper to manage the store and only appeared when dealing with important customers, after which he would retreat again.

As such, everyone knew that the jade shop had two owners, but they had only ever seen one. The other was as elusive as a dragon, neither round nor flat, unseen by anyone.

In truth, he was a little round.

Yi Mo had Liu Yan by his side, who took care of him meticulously. Without having to worry about the trivialities of life, Yi Mo’s days were carefree and without troubles. In his later years, as he no longer traveled far, he spent his days tending to the flowers in the backyard. The garden was packed with blooms, and when idle, he loved to sit on a bamboo chair, sipping pre-Qingming tea while admiring his own sea of flowers. He would pout childishly to Liu Yan, complaining that the flowers’ fragrance was so strong it had overpowered the tea’s aroma, as though he had been wronged by the flowers. Liu Yan could only shake his head and start learning how to make flower tea, indulging and pampering Yi Mo until he developed a noticeable plumpness.

How plump? Yi Mo had planted some vine seeds in long pots and placed them under the four-panel folding screen in the house. In just two years, the green vines had spread and covered the screen, filling the room with the fresh scent of soil and plants. It was a great idea at first, but come summer, it brought trouble. The vine-covered screen was cool and damp, attracting countless mosquitoes. Oddly, the mosquitoes he had nurtured seemed to recognize only him as their master and feasted on him alone, ignoring everyone else.

The mosquitoes used to love Liu Yan. Yi Mo would mutter this every time he slapped one to death.

He was stubborn, though, and refused to move the vines outside. Perhaps age brings quirks. Liu Yan let him be, though every summer evening, he had to go through the trouble of fumigating the mosquitoes out of the room. Before bedtime, he would drive the mosquitoes out of the bed’s canopy, sweating from the effort, and only then would Yi Mo enter to sleep. Liu Yan would then wash up again.

It was this simple, mundane life. Sometimes, they would bicker over a dish, argue over trivial matters, and when the fight grew heated, one of them would slam the table in a burst of anger, sending dishes and bowls shattering to the ground.

Yet always, when they turned their heads away in a sulk, someone would quietly extend a little finger to hook the other’s hand, as if apologizing, or perhaps affectionately murmuring, “Are you ignoring me?”

That faint touch of their fingers would dissolve the tension like smoke. Soon, they would stand face to face, both embarrassed, smiling foolishly.

While laughing, their faces would flush red. One would crouch down first to clean up the mess, and soon, the other would join in, their hands accidentally brushing together before holding tightly.

They had known each other for so long, yet not long enough to immediately learn how to spend a lifetime together. It was not one year or ten years but countless years of companionship, with not a single day apart. They didn’t know how to do it, nor did they understand. They were once wild beasts, but to be together, they suddenly became two harmless little creatures—clumsy and awkward. Though they would occasionally bare their claws, as long as one leaned in to lick the other’s wounds, the other would show a bashful, silly smile in return.

Even when they grew old, it seemed they never truly learned how to be together. And so, they spent a lifetime in quiet harmony, with small stumbles along the way.

Every year, the end of the year was their happiest time. The wandering child would return home, carrying a heavy bundle and covered in dust. Sometimes he arrived early, just as the twelfth lunar month began. Other times, he was late, and they could only see a small boat approaching from the water after the heavy snow, a figure at the bow waving to them. When the boat docked, the ever-young and handsome Shen Jue would leap to their side, muttering, “You don’t need to pick me up; I can come back on my own,” even as his eyes turned red and he rubbed his face against theirs like a puppy.

Liu Yan would let him do so for a long time until Yi Mo couldn’t stand it and gave him a smack on the head. After a few times, Shen Jue learned to rub against Yi Mo first before turning to his other father. This way, it didn’t matter how long he lingered. The exhaustion from his year of searching seemed to melt away in their warmth and affection. If he could always return like this, Shen Jue thought he could search for hundreds of years without complaint. No matter how bitter the search, knowing there was a place where he could sleep in peace made it all bearable.

But later… there is always a “later.” Later, he had no one left to love.

As Qingming approached, no matter where he was or how far he had traveled, he would rush back to kneel before a grave on Luofu Mountain, placing dishes he had prepared himself.

There was much to do that day: clearing weeds, wiping the tombstone, and burning paper offerings.

Then, he would sit before the cold dishes for a long time.

Night would turn to dawn. He knew he had to leave again. The person he sought had not yet been found, so he could not stop.

Shen Jue pressed his face against the mist-covered, icy tombstone, closing his eyes as though imagining the two people smiling at him with affection. He rubbed his face against the stone.

When he lifted his face, the cold water stains remained, glimmering in the dawn light.

Shouldering his worn bundle, Shen Jue continued on his journey.

Qingming (清明) typically refers to the Qingming Festival, a traditional Chinese festival also known as Tomb-Sweeping Day. It is observed around April 4th or 5th each year, marking a time to honor ancestors by visiting their graves, cleaning tombs, and making offerings.