Encountering a Snake - Chapter 5

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Yi Mo never thought he would cry. When he noticed his tears, he couldn’t help but feel shocked. Could a demon who had lived for two thousand years shed tears? Yi Mo didn’t think it was possible.

Could a demon who had lived for two thousand years really shed tears?

And yet, the tears fell. They slid down his cheeks, leaving wet streaks. Yi Mo tasted them—it was salty, bitter. No different from the flavors he had tasted before. A demon’s tears were no different from a human’s: salty, bitter, sour.

A demon’s tears were exactly the same as the tears of Shen Qingxuan through his three lifetimes.

Liu Yan was still crying his heart out, shouting, “Don’t cry, Yi Mo, don’t cry! I was wrong! Please don’t cry!” The blood and dirt on his face were washed away by his own tears, revealing two pale streaks, but he kept begging Yi Mo not to cry.

Yi Mo picked him up and held him in his arms. Liu Yan stopped struggling, crying while wiping Yi Mo’s face. He didn’t care that his blood-stained hands smeared Yi Mo’s face—he just didn’t want Yi Mo to cry because it hurt him. Those tears seemed to transform into a pair of hands, plunging deep into his heart and squeezing it to death. Liu Yan was in unbearable pain, crying, “I was wrong, Yi Mo. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry…”

Yi Mo said, “You fool.” As he spoke, he healed Liu Yan’s wound. He looked at the now pristine skin, white and smooth, but the cinnabar mark was gone.

Without the cinnabar mark, was he no longer that person? Of course not. Yi Mo let out a derisive laugh, comforting Liu Yan in his arms. As Liu Yan hiccupped and sobbed, Yi Mo said softly, “What was the point of cutting it off?”

There was no point. None at all. It was just a mark, a symbol. Its absence didn’t change anything. But the fool didn’t understand.

The fool raised his tear-streaked face and said, “It made you unhappy when you saw it. In my past life, I wasn’t good to you. We don’t need it.”

“We don’t need it. It’s no good. I’ll be good to you, so don’t be unhappy.” Liu Yan leaned on his shoulder, repeating, “We don’t need it. It’s no good. I’ll be good to you. Yi Mo, don’t cry.”

Yi Mo couldn’t say anything more. He simply tightened his hold on the figure in his arms, holding the innocent and ignorant Liu Yan closer. He murmured again and again, “Fool.”

As he said this softly, all else faded away. All that remained was the foolish Liu Yan in his arms, saying he would be good to him, the same Liu Yan who had carved out a piece of his own flesh. A dark emotion churned within his heart, like a swirling vortex of blackness. Yi Mo buried his face against Liu Yan’s neck, biting down on his shoulder through the fabric.

Liu Yan shuddered but didn’t cry out in pain. Instead, he patted Yi Mo’s back, just as Yi Mo often did to him, soothing him, saying, “Don’t be sad, Yi Mo. I’ll be good to you.”

The teeth on his shoulder gradually released. Yi Mo remained motionless, his face buried against Liu Yan’s neck, the weight of his body leaning into Liu Yan’s shoulder, his eyes closed like an exhausted child. Liu Yan knew he was foolish and couldn’t understand what Yi Mo was thinking, maybe never would. But as long as Yi Mo gave, he would take—whether it was care, harm, or simply the weight of an adult leaning against him. Liu Yan patted his back, falling silent as Yi Mo quieted, gently soothing him without a word.

Later, they fell asleep, holding each other like that.

At midnight, Yi Mo woke, opened his eyes, and lit the candles, filling the room with light. On the bed, Yi Mo looked at Liu Yan’s face in his arms. It was dirty, streaked with blood and mud, and marked with two pale tracks from his tears. But because Liu Yan was asleep, he didn’t look quite so foolish. Yi Mo watched him for a long time, until Liu Yan suddenly sniffled in his sleep, as if crying in his dreams. He seemed so heartbroken.

Yi Mo wondered why, even though he had promised himself not to bully him, he had still done so—so much that Liu Yan was crying even in his sleep. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him.

Even if he was a fool, Yi Mo hadn’t wanted to hurt him. His gaze shifted away to Liu Yan’s exposed chest, now without the crimson cinnabar mark.

Shen Qingxuan’s chest didn’t have it. Ji Jiu’s didn’t either. And now, Liu Yan’s didn’t have it anymore.

In his previous life, Ji Jiu had a snakebite scar on his wrist because of Shen Qingxuan’s obsession. Later, Ji Jiu was gone, and Liu Yan had appeared, with a single cinnabar mark on his chest. Now that mark was gone too. Yi Mo thought, maybe in the next life, in Shen Qingxuan’s fourth incarnation, there would be nothing at all.

But it didn’t matter. Whether it was there or not didn’t matter. With or without it, he was Shen Qingxuan’s reincarnation—the person Yi Mo had been searching for. That would not change just because the mark was gone.

So, it was fine. Foolish or not, it was fine. A Shen Qingxuan who cried and said he wanted to be good to him wasn’t so bad. Although Yi Mo accepted this, he couldn’t understand why he still felt like something was missing in his heart, as if it wasn’t supposed to be like this—as if just having a Shen Qingxuan who was willing to be good to him wasn’t enough.

It seemed like there was something very important, but no matter how much Yi Mo thought, he couldn’t figure out what it was.

He rubbed Liu Yan’s face and decided to stop thinking about it.

The next morning, Liu Yan woke, washed his face, and changed into clean clothes, becoming a tidy young man again. Yi Mo held his hand as they wandered through a forest carpeted with fallen leaves. Occasionally, a ripened fruit would fall from a tree, landing softly in the pile of leaves.

On the tallest tree, Liu Yan sat beside him, swinging his legs happily, watching the setting sun in the distance.

The fiery glow dyed the sky red, as though it were ablaze. The clouds looked like light pink steam. Liu Yan watched for a while, then quietly turned his head to look at Yi Mo’s profile. He didn’t know how to describe it or how to express praise; he only knew it was beautiful. His eyebrows were beautiful, his nose was beautiful, his lips were beautiful, even his eyelashes were beautiful—everything about him was beautiful. So beautiful that Liu Yan couldn’t bear to look away. He just stared foolishly.

After being stared at for too long, Yi Mo turned his head and asked, “Have you seen enough?”

Liu Yan shook his head and, with a mix of foolishness and righteousness, said, “Not enough.”

Yi Mo found it amusing and asked, “What’s not enough?”

Liu Yan replied, “Everything.” After a moment, he added softly, “Yi Mo is beautiful.”

Although he was a fool, Liu Yan knew how to feel shy. His voice grew smaller but remained firm.

Yi Mo asked, “Beautiful?”

As if to prove his sincerity, Liu Yan said, “Very beautiful!” He nodded vigorously.

Yi Mo was momentarily stunned by the familiarity of “very beautiful,” when suddenly there was a loud “ah.” It turned out that Liu Yan had nodded so hard he lost his balance and fell off the tree.

Yi Mo was startled and jumped after him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into his arms. When they landed safely on the ground, Yi Mo couldn’t help but flick Liu Yan on the forehead. Amused and exasperated, he said, “You’re hopeless.” Even nodding could lead to a fall. He was truly hopeless.

Liu Yan thought Yi Mo was angry. Rubbing his forehead with one hand and tugging Yi Mo’s sleeve with the other, he murmured, “I didn’t mean to. Yi Mo, please don’t be mad at me.”

Yi Mo looked at him, amusement flickering in his eyes. In a cold tone, he said, “Who said I was mad at you?”

Liu Yan didn’t realize Yi Mo was teasing him and replied earnestly, “Yi Mo did.”

Yi Mo asked, “If I got mad at a fool, wouldn’t that make me a fool too?”

Liu Yan pouted slightly, a little unconvinced, and retorted, “What’s wrong with being a fool? A fool wouldn’t bully Yi Mo. If you were a fool, I would take care of you every day.”

Yi Mo reached out and knocked on his forehead again, saying, “You? You still need others to feed and dress you. To this day, you can’t carry anything on your shoulders or lift anything with your hands, and you think you can take care of someone?”

As expected, Liu Yan’s face flushed red at the remark, his expression dissatisfied as if wanting to argue back, yet unable to come up with anything. He looked utterly pitiful, as if being bullied. Yi Mo couldn’t help it; he reached out and pinched Liu Yan’s cheek, saying, “Looking like this really makes one want to bully you.”

After a long pause, Liu Yan finally said, “If Yi Mo wants to bully a fool, then go ahead. Those who bully fools are fools themselves!”

After all that time, this was all he could come up with—fighting fire with fire.

Yi Mo pulled him close, held his face, and scrutinized it left and right for a while before finally clicking his tongue. “Foolish as you may be, your sharp tongue hasn’t changed.” Liu Yan, unsure how to respond, stood there dumbfounded. Yi Mo grabbed him by the arm and said, “Let’s go.” Liu Yan obediently followed behind him, step by step.

After helping the silly young master finish his meal, Yi Mo set up the bathing tub and assisted him in bathing. While drying him off, Yi Mo, for the first time, truly observed the body in front of him. After years of care, the skin was fair and soft, with a well-nurtured, smooth physique. The bones were slender and youthful, still carrying the thinness of adolescence, but with defined contours. Held in his arms, it was neither too soft nor too firm.

He had never thought of it before, but now, as the thought crossed his mind, his body reacted.

Without hesitation, he scooped the young master out of the tub, ignoring Liu Yan’s flustered protests of, “I’m wet! I’m wet!” He tossed him directly onto the bed. Pressing his damp, warm body down, Yi Mo looked into his eyes and said, “Fool, you’re sixteen now.”

Liu Yan thought hard, counted on his fingers, and replied, “Sixteen.”

“It’s time for your coming-of-age ceremony,” Yi Mo said.

Liu Yan asked, “What’s a coming-of-age ceremony?”

Yi Mo smiled faintly. “It’s a worldly custom, nothing you need to worry about. But how about I conduct a ceremony for you instead?”

Liu Yan naturally agreed, happily leaning in to kiss Yi Mo a few times.

Yi Mo stared at him for a moment, then lowered his head, pressing his lips onto the ones that had just teased him. Liu Yan had just eaten a pear during the bath, and his lips still carried the sweet flavor of fruit. His tongue was soft, unresisting as Yi Mo captured it. Just as Yi Mo was about to pull back and gauge his reaction, the ever-innocent Liu Yan wrapped his arms around Yi Mo’s neck, mimicking his movements to respond with his tongue.

Liu Yan had no idea what he was doing, nor did he understand what Yi Mo was doing to him. He only felt that their lips pressed together felt incredibly intimate.

He always wanted to get closer to Yi Mo, closer still, so close that he would never be pushed away or disliked.

Yi Mo’s hand brushed against his waist, cold to the touch. Liu Yan’s waist flinched at the sudden contact, like a startled fish, but quickly adapted to the warmth of Yi Mo’s palm, relaxing under his caress.

Yi Mo’s hand traveled along his waistline, eventually reaching his buttocks. The flesh was firm and bouncy, and Yi Mo couldn’t resist kneading it a few times. Liu Yan blushed, turning his face away to glance at their position, and finally asked, “Yi Mo, what are you doing?”

Yi Mo replied, “Performing the ceremony.”

Recalling the mention of the coming-of-age ceremony, Liu Yan trusted him and obediently lay back, letting Yi Mo have his way. It wasn’t until Yi Mo grasped him below that Liu Yan let out a short gasp, his face turning beet red. Even a fool could feel shy.

After struggling internally for a while, Liu Yan murmured hesitantly, “Yi Mo, that’s for peeing… it’s dirty.”

Yi Mo, like a child discovering a fascinating new toy, was stirred by Liu Yan’s naïve response. With a hint of mischief in his voice, he asked, “Didn’t we just wash it?”

Liu Yan nodded. “We did.”

“If it’s clean, it’s not dirty,” Yi Mo said, moving his hand again, playing with the slightly stiffening organ. “Don’t move.”

Liu Yan dared not move, but Yi Mo’s actions grew more intense. Liu Yan, unable to make sense of the sensation, felt both discomfort and a strange pleasure. He instinctively wanted to shift, but as soon as he lifted his hips, Yi Mo commanded, “Don’t move.” Liu Yan gripped the blanket tightly, twisting it in his hands as his body stayed still, though he was on the verge of tears.

The stimulation grew stronger. Liu Yan whimpered softly, calling out, “Yi Mo, Yi Mo, it feels strange.”

Yi Mo calmly responded, “I know.”

Seeing him drenched in sweat and pitifully enduring, Yi Mo released his hand, bent down, and took the aroused part into his mouth.

Liu Yan clenched the blanket tightly, his already muddled mind going blank. The sensation was both unbearable and pleasurable, and he dared not move. Tears streamed down his face. “Yi Mo,” he sobbed, lifting his head slightly to look at the man between his legs, shame and sorrow evident in his expression. “I’m going to pee.”

Instead of letting him go, Yi Mo seemed provoked by the remark, reaching out to pinch his waist harshly. Liu Yan cried out, tears spilling over as he finally gave in to the sensation, “peeing” into Yi Mo’s mouth.

Yi Mo sat up, spitting out the substance in his mouth. Just as he was about to say something, he saw Liu Yan curled up in the corner, clutching the blanket and crying.

He froze.

Pulling Liu Yan toward him, he asked, “What’s wrong now?”

Liu Yan covered his face with his arms, sniffling as he said, “I couldn’t hold it… I peed.”

Yi Mo, exasperated, smacked the back of his head, making the fool stop crying. “You’re hopeless!” he scolded, lying down in frustration.

Liu Yan held his head, waiting for a moment before cautiously checking himself. When he found white fluid instead of urine, he felt relieved. He hadn’t peed in Yi Mo’s mouth after all. Content, he crawled onto Yi Mo, kissing his face repeatedly in an attempt to appease him.

It didn’t take long for Yi Mo to calm down. Holding the fool in his arms, he asked, “Did it feel good?”

Liu Yan thought for a moment, then nodded honestly.

Yi Mo looked at him for a while and suddenly said, “Fool, from now on, I’ll call you Shen Qingxuan.”

Liu Yan leaned in to kiss his face again and said, “Okay.”

Yi Mo raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to be called Liu Yan anymore?”

“Shen Qingxuan treats Yi Mo well,” Liu Yan said. “So I want to be like him. Anyway, I’m a fool, so it doesn’t matter what I’m called.”

Yi Mo was silent for a long time before softly replying, “Mm.” It seemed like he agreed, but his eyes closed, concealing countless unspoken worries and scars he had no time to hide.