Chapter 11

“Get off me.”

Ah Wan spoke ruthlessly and coldly. After speaking, she grabbed Little Snake’s head with one hand, pulled her down, and hung her on the towel rack nearby.

Little Snake couldn’t read Ah Wan’s avoidance or understand indirectness. Hanging on the towel rack, she asked bluntly: “Human, when will you kiss Snakey again?”

Ah Wan’s face instantly fell. She replied without hesitation: “There won’t be a next time.”

“Besides,” she paused, then continued coldly, “there shouldn’t be a next time.”

Once there was intimate contact, one would desire an even deeper resonance of the soul.

Ah Wan knew that was forever impossible, so she would never take the first step.

After speaking, she grabbed a bath towel, dried herself roughly, put on her clothes, and washed up.

In the mirror, the little white snake was draped lazily over the rack, its head tilted up slightly, flicking its tongue at her.

Ah Wan squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush, and Little Snake immediately opened her mouth wide, revealing two tiny, sharp venomous fangs, waiting obediently.

As a result, Ah Wan put the toothbrush into her own mouth.

Little Snake was so angry she used her head to jab Ah Wan’s back shoulder in protest.

Brushing her teeth, Ah Wan looked at the little one in the mirror, and couldn’t help the slight upward curve of her lips.

But it was only for a moment. She lowered her head, rinsed her mouth, and when she raised her head again, she had resumed that icy, cold appearance.

“Truly won’t be a next time?” Little Snake murmured curiously to herself, “Why? Human don’t like it?”

“Mhm.”

Ah Wan answered perfunctorily. Having washed up, she walked out, giving orders: “After washing the clothes, come out and make me breakfast.”

“Hmph!”

Little Snake pouted and got down from the rack. She crawled over, picked up Ah Wan’s clothes in her mouth, and laboriously crawled toward the washing machine.

Only two scorpions remained in the jar in the backyard. Ah Wan went to take a look; the quality of both was average, unable to produce a good Heart-Piercing Gu.

Little Snake hung on a nearby tree branch, flicking her tongue. She turned her head and asked: “Does Snakey need to go in again today?”

Ah Wan thought for a moment and closed the lid with a backhand motion.

“No need. Quality is average. No point wasting time here.”

“Okay!” Little Snake answered happily, then carefully reached over to lie on Ah Wan’s shoulder, her tail tightly wrapped around her, hissing as she flicked her tongue near her ear.

Ah Wan paused in her steps, as if considering whether to throw her off. But after hesitating, she didn’t do so, instead continuing to walk forward.

After eating, Ah Wan lounged lazily in the courtyard. One hand held a book, the other held fresh medicinal herbs.

Beside her hand was a small square table. On the table was a small, woven bamboo basket filled with freshly picked herbs, a few still bearing flowers.

Outside the courtyard, morning glories had climbed all over the wall, swaying gently in the breeze.

From within the lush green leaves, a small white head suddenly popped out. Its large mouth opened wide, biting off a purple trumpet-shaped flower. Wagging its tail, it happily savored the taste.

The book in Ah Wan’s hand shifted down an inch, revealing a pair of beautiful eyes quietly gazing at the little snake ahead. She suddenly spoke: “Stupid snake.”

“Don’t eat the Flower Gu.”

Little Snake turned her head to look and asked blankly: “Human, you call Snakey?”

“Come here.” Ah Wan’s tone was indifferent as she put down the book.

Little Snake crawled toward Ah Wan joyfully, circled her halfway, then stopped by her feet. She raised her upper body, waiting with high spirits. “Human, what do you want Snakey to do?”

Ah Wan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she fiddled with the herb in her hand, thought for a moment, and only then raised her hand.

“Catch this. If you don’t catch it, I’ll deduct one pack of crispy noodles.”

Little Snake was immediately energized. She raised her head high, opened her mouth wide in an “Ah,” and waited.

Ah Wan glanced at her, tossed the herb casually. Little Snake stretched upward and caught it firmly in her mouth.

“Eat it.” Ah Wan watched her closely without blinking.

Little Snake nodded her head and obediently chewed the herb into mush, swallowing it down.

As it turned out, this medicine was even more disgusting. As she chewed, she retched, nearly collapsing onto the ground.

Ah Wan stared at her the whole time. After watching her swallow it, she then stood up and went into the house to get a carrying basket.

Little Snake flicked her tongue and crawled crookedly toward her, accusing angrily: “Human, you’re bad, you bully Snakey.”

Ah Wan didn’t reply. She hoisted the basket onto her back and turned to leave.

Little Snake used her tail to close the door and followed behind her, huffing with anger.

The Gu Ants at the door cowered and gathered around upon seeing her. Ever since being taught a lesson yesterday, they were all somewhat afraid of this little white snake before them, yet they dared not disobey Ah Wan’s command.

Seeing they still wanted to block her path, Little Snake immediately raised herself up and let out a forceful, threatening hiss. The swarm of Gu Ants instantly fled, screeching chaotically.

Hearing this sound, Ah Wan’s lips curved up almost imperceptibly.

The courtyard gate closed automatically. A gust of wind blew past, and a green caterpillar fell from the morning glories. Its body was already stiff, yet its mouth still contained a small piece of a purple morning glory petal.

“Human, where are we going?” Little Snake followed behind Ah Wan, crawling hard, chattering tirelessly along the way.

Ah Wan ignored her, so she talked to herself: “Going to pick medicinal herbs, or going hunting?”

Ah Wan arrived at the same medicinal herb field as last time. She stopped, and only then replied in a flat tone: “Going down the mountain in a couple of days, selling herbs.”

The people living down the mountain needed her herbs, so she would go down to sell them periodically.

However, the timing wasn’t fixed. It usually depended on her mood. If she was in a good mood, she went every three months; if not, it was hard to say.

The last time she went down the mountain seemed to be before the New Year. In a flash, half a year had passed.

“Down the mountain?” Little Snake immediately became excited, swaying her tail as she circled Ah Wan. “Can Snakey go?”

She had never left the mountain before. She had been on the mountain since birth—eating, sleeping, cultivating were all on the mountain. She was very curious about what it was like down below.

Ah Wan took a medicine hoe from her basket, and upon hearing these words, she suddenly frowned, looking at her. “You want to go down the mountain?”

“Mhm mhm!” Little Snake nodded her head, crawled over, and affectionately rubbed against Ah Wan’s shoe. She ingratiatingly said, “Snakey go too, okay?”

But Ah Wan’s expression did not ease. She looked at her silently and replied indifferently: “Go pull up all the herbs for me and put them in the basket.”

“After pulling them up, will Human take Snakey down the mountain?” Little Snake had even learned to haggle.

Ah Wan let out a soft, scoffing laugh. She didn’t answer directly, but lifted her chin slightly and ordered in a tone that brooked no argument: “Go.”

Little Snake felt a little wronged. She flicked her tongue at Ah Wan, puffed up with anger, and crawled into the field, twisting and turning.

The herbs grew very tall, and she couldn’t pull them out one by one like a human could.

Little Snake could only use her tail to coil around the roots of the herbs, then crawl forward with effort.

With a snap, the root of a herb broke.

Ah Wan sucked in a breath, finding it hard to look. She then raised her hand and shook the Silver Bracelet on her wrist.

A plain circle adorned with two thin silver leaves; when they collided, they actually produced a crisp, melodious sound.

Ah Wan gently shook it three times. From within the ground, densely packed large earthworms drilled out, diligently helping to loosen the soil.

Little Snake curled around a herb and crawled ahead, wrapping around and pulling out one after another. She suddenly found it very easy; her tail coiled and they were pulled right out.

“Human, watch me.”

Ah Wan sat on the ridge between fields, holding a few stalks of foxtail grass in her hand, idly weaving a small trinket. Suddenly, a sound came from the field.

Little Snake had already finished pulling a row and was now coming back, facing her, pulling the second row. With one coil of her tail, she pulled one out—it looked effortless. Yet behind her followed a group of uncomplaining, hardworking earthworms.

Ah Wan chuckled softly. “Stupid snake.”

She then ignored her and lowered her head to continue weaving the thing in her hands.

The setting sun cast its glow, the horizon a sea of rosy clouds.

The herbs in the field were almost all pulled. Little Snake looked back, saw the plump, fat earthworms, and ran off to chase them for fun.

She didn’t eat them, just opened her big mouth, flicked her tongue, and scared them from behind.

The fat earthworms had nowhere to escape and could only swarm toward the field ridge, gathering uneasily around Ah Wan’s feet, squirming.

Ah Wan looked down at them and said softly, “Good.”

Then she shook the bracelet on her wrist. With a ding, all the fat earthworms burrowed back into the earth.

Little Snake had chased them all the way here and didn’t have time to stop, crashing headfirst into Ah Wan’s shoe.

“Stupid.”

Ah Wan smacked her head with the little Foxtail Woven Snake in her hand, then casually tossed it in the field, hoisted the herbs, and walked away.

Little Snake coiled into a circle, used the tip of her tail to scratch the spot that had been hit, and then yelled loudly ahead: “Human, wait for Snakey.”

After shouting, she hurriedly picked up the woven little grass snake that Ah Wan had discarded and chased after her.

Arriving home, Ah Wan put down the basket and spread the herbs on the drying mat to air out.

Little Snake, the small grass snake still in her mouth, suddenly poked her head out from the side, flicked her tongue, and stared at Ah Wan curiously.

“If I threw it away, why did you bring it back?” Ah Wan finished speaking and took the little grass snake from her mouth, lightly tapping her on the head. “Picking up anything and everything to bring home.”

She then ordered: “Go cook, I’m hungry.”

Little Snake flicked her tongue, tilted her head to rub against her wrist, and crawled obediently toward the house.

Ah Wan watched as she entered the house, her tail tip also disappearing from view. Only then did she take the little grass snake and slowly walk toward the outside of the courtyard.

That row of morning glories saw her and one after another, they folded up their blooming flowers, like people ducking their heads into their necks.

Ah Wan stuck the little grass snake into the ground, looked at them, and ordered: “Take good care of it.”

She turned to leave after speaking but stopped after taking a couple of steps. She glanced sideways at that row of morning glories and menaced in a harsh tone: “Next time she eats you, you are not allowed to release poison.”

As her voice fell, the morning glories that were close together all huddled tightly, trembling with fear.

Ah Wan acted as if she hadn’t seen it, turned her head, and walked away.

The next day, before dawn was fully bright, Ah Wan got up. The little one sleeping beside her rolled over with a thud, hugging her waist from behind, and mumbled sleepily: “I want to go too.”

Ah Wan pulled her hand away, threw down the words “Watch the house,” and left.

But halfway there, she suddenly noticed a faint rustling sound coming from the basket on her back.

Ah Wan’s expression shifted slightly, and she immediately stopped in her tracks.

“Wah!”

Little Snake joyfully burst out, a head full of herbs on top of her head.