The bedroom light clicked on abruptly. Instinctively, Little Snake raised a pale arm to shield her eyes. She lay on the bed, whimpering softly, clearly displeased.
Ah Wan looked down at her for a long moment. She endured, again and again, before lifting the quilt and leaning over to pick her up. Her face was cold, and without a word, she carried her toward the bathroom.
After adjusting the hot water, Ah Wan let Little Snake go in to wash by herself while she stood guard outside.
Listening to the splashing water behind the door, Ah Wan leaned against the wall, drawing a deep, frightened breath. That was close. Just a little more and I wouldn’t have been able to hold back.
She had never been someone unable to control her desires. But ever since meeting Little Snake, her bottom line had been broken time and time again. Broken and then rebuilt, only to be broken again, as if it were some kind of farce.
Ah Wan looked down at her fingertips, rubbing them together unconsciously. It felt as if they still held a trace of Little Snake’s body heat and the soft touch of her skin.
The sound of water in the bathroom stopped. The lock on the door clicked. A little head poked out, and seeing Ah Wan, offered a small smile. “Human, Snakey forgot to bring her pants.”
Only then did Ah Wan snap back to reality, as if waking from a dream. She turned her head to look at her. The door panel concealed the body completely, no longer appearing before her stark-naked like that first time.
For some reason, even though she herself had taught her this, Ah Wan suddenly felt a pang of regret. She cast one last deep, lingering glance before reluctantly withdrawing her gaze and turning to get the pants.
At two in the morning, Little Snake, dressed in her pajamas, sat on the bathroom vanity, swinging her two legs freely.
Ah Wan was at the sink next to her, scrubbing the soiled little underwear. Her face remained cold, and she didn’t say much.
Little Snake leaned her body sideways, sneaking peeks at her. After this happened a few times, Ah Wan suddenly looked up into the large mirror in front of them and asked, emotionlessly: “What are you looking at?”
“You just called me Baby,” Little Snake said, cupping her face in her hands, looking down shyly.
Hearing this, Ah Wan frowned slightly. Her expression turned a bit unnatural. Lowering her head, her ears reddening, she flatly denied it: “You misheard.”
Under the bright light, she couldn’t openly and justifiably express her feelings under any pretense. Abandoned since childhood, no one had ever taught her how to speak of love.
Little Snake didn’t believe her. Placing her hands beside her, she leaned over to look at her, smiling brightly as she corrected her: “Human, Snakey likes it when you call me Baby. But Snakey hatched eighteen years ago, I’m not a young snake anymore. You can’t call Snakey that.”
“Then what should I call you?” Ah Wan felt a mischievous urge. She deliberately teased this little creature who still couldn’t figure out human family relationships. Smiling lightly, she pressed, “What do you want me to call you, then?”
“Human, you can call Snakey by name,” Little Snake said happily, always keeping one thing firmly in mind. “Once you call me by name, Human and Snakey can be together forever.”
Ah Wan was amused for a moment. She looked up, her interest piqued. “And what is your name, then?”
“Snakey will have a name sooner or later,” Little Snake declared, lifting her head, looking full of confidence.
Ah Wan’s smile deepened. She wrung out the little underwear and hung it aside. Then, drying her hands, she turned and reached out to pick her up. “Time for bed.”
Seeing this, Little Snake also stretched her arms out towards her and obediently lay against her chest.
The bright lights went out again. Silence returned to the room.
Little Snake snuggled in Ah Wan’s arms. Clinging to her collar with both hands, she quietly muttered nighttime chatter. Ah Wan just gently patted her back, listening quietly.
In the winter, there were no ubiquitous sounds of chirping insects, only the occasional rustling noise coming from this Mid-Mountain Cabin.
The two of them nestled under the soft, warm quilt, sleeping in each other’s arms. From time to time, they spoke in whispers. Most of the time, it was Little Snake babbling away while Ah Wan listened quietly.
At four in the morning, sleepiness finally enveloped Little Snake. Her speaking voice noticeably weakened. Her hands rested near Ah Wan’s neck for warmth. Eyes closed, half-asleep, she murmured some disconnected, nonsensical things.
One moment she said the winter yard was bare and ugly; the next she said when spring came, she would take Ah Wan up the mountain to find wild fruit. She was the best at finding wild fruit, every time she could find fresh, plump fruit and eat her fill.
Ah Wan listened without replying. She reached out to stroke Little Snake’s head. Then a curious, fragmented sentence came from her mouth, the words almost forced out one by one.
“Does Human have a name?”
Ah Wan hesitated for a moment after hearing this. In the end, she lowered her head and gently rubbed their foreheads together. She whispered something softly into Little Snake’s ear. Then, pinching her cheek, she stole a kiss on her mouth.
Smack. The sound was very, very soft, yet in the quiet bedroom, it was exceptionally distinct.
Satisfied, Ah Wan pulled her tightly into her arms and fell into a comfortable sleep.
The next day, the human and the snake slept until almost noon before getting up.
In the mountains, time passed leisurely, with no outsiders to disturb them. So the two unhurriedly made lunch and ate it before calmly getting around to processing the pork they’d bought yesterday.
Ah Wan wore her form-fitting sweater, tied on an apron, and picked up a knife to debone the meat. Little Snake, bundled up like a round ball, squatted beside her watching, simultaneously guarding the basin.
A chunk of bright red meat was thrown into the basin with a loud clang. Little Snake pointed at it and asked, “Can Snakey eat this one?”
Ah Wan glanced at her. Seeming to recall something, she smiled privately to herself before asking, after a pause, “Have you ever heard a story?”
“What?” Little Snake’s attention was caught, and she asked curiously.
Ah Wan turned the pork over. Finding the tenderloin, she picked up the knife and carefully began separating it, answering as she worked: “It’s said there’s a kind of giant python that can swallow a whole cow in one breath. After eating, its body stretches so thin it becomes almost transparent. Then it doesn’t move, just stays in its nest slowly digesting.”
“It eats one and doesn’t need to eat again for half a year.”
Ah Wan finished speaking just as she finished cutting out the tenderloin. She weighed it in her hand, then looked at Little Snake and said, “But you couldn’t do that, because you’d need two.”
With that, she turned and headed for the kitchen, the meat in her hand.
Little Snake, still squatting, froze for a moment. After she processed it, she turned to look at Ah Wan’s retreating figure and huffed in anger. Immediately, she got up and chased after her, shouting loudly and domineeringly: “Human! What did you just say?”
“What did I say?” Ah Wan’s lazy voice drifted out from the room. “I didn’t say anything.”
Little Snake, having reached the doorway, stopped in her tracks upon hearing this, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that Human would play dumb like this. Clinging to the doorframe, she glared angrily, let out a hmph, and demanded: “Human, are you saying Snakey eats too much?”
Ah Wan washed the tenderloin and placed it on the cutting board. Upon hearing this, she turned around and looked at her. Her voice carried the satisfying tone of being henpecked. She chuckled twice and then, on her own initiative, lowered her posture. “Do I look like I would dare?”
Hearing this, Little Snake finally nodded in satisfaction. “That’s more like it.”
Then, head high and chest out, she walked over. She glanced at Ah Wan, then at the meat on the cutting board. After swallowing hard, she said with a serious expression: “Human, don’t think Snakey eats a lot. It’s because when Snakey first hatched, there was nothing to eat. My stomach was always empty.”
At these words, Ah Wan’s knife slipped, nearly cutting her own hand.
She paused, then turning her head asked: “You… were you alone ever since you were little?”
“Not exactly. When Snakey was little, I was an egg. Then I was crushed…”
Before Little Snake could finish her sentence, her eyes were already glued to the meat on the cutting board. Her forked tongue flicking out, she cried out in alarm: “Human! You cut it too thin!”
Slices of meat cut too thin disappeared in one swallow without satisfaction. She only liked them thick and chunky.
“Human?” Seeing Ah Wan unresponsive for a long while, Little Snake tentatively called out to her.
Only then did Ah Wan come back to her senses. Realizing she had lost her composure, she lowered her head and slowly continued slicing. It was strange; the knife was clearly cutting on the board, yet she felt as if it were carving into her own heart, a dull, lingering pain.
She didn’t even know why it hurt. It was natural for snakes not to raise their young. Besides, most young snakes were born with the instinct to hunt. This particular snake was just silly, so it made sense she couldn’t hunt and went hungry. What was there for her to feel heartache over?
Ah Wan forced herself not to imagine what Little Snake had been like as a hatchling. She quickly started a fire and made a pot of sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin. She also deep-fried several meat fillets, skewered them, and sprinkled them with cumin and pepper powder.
She then handed them to Little Snake to nibble on by herself while she went back to continue dealing with the rest of the pork.
Time flew by until it was New Year’s Eve. Ah Wan didn’t make a special celebration. Following her usual habit, she just cooked a few dishes and burned some paper offerings.
Little Snake wore new clothes Ah Wan had bought her. They were a festive red. Her hair was done up in two symmetrical buns, with two little braids hanging down, making her look exceptionally cute and charming.
“Wow! Is it New Year’s again so soon?”
Little Snake lay sprawled over the table edge, staring at the table full of meat dishes, her mouth watering so much she drooled. For a moment, she didn’t even know which dish to try first. If she started with the crispy fried pork, she might not have room for the pork belly; if she ate the pork belly, she worried the salt-and-pepper ribs would feel neglected if no one ate them. It was a critical dilemma; she wished she could sprout two extra mouths.
Ah Wan watched her absolutely craving expression, and her heart gradually softened. She used her chopsticks to pick up some food for her, then answered: “Last time was the Miao New Year. This is the regular New Year.”
After saying that, she paused, remembering something. She turned her head, looked at the girl sitting at the table, and lowering her voice, asked mysteriously, “You know what?”
“Know what?” Little Snake asked, looking up while gripping her chopsticks.
Ah Wan curved her lips, deliberately remarking, “I heard that at New Year’s, people hang zodiac signs on their doors. Tiger heads for the Year of the Tiger, pig heads for the Year of the Pig…”
Little Snake truly didn’t know this. Her mouth opened wide in surprise. After processing this, she replied, “There’s a pig head in the yard. We can hang that one.”
“Mm, that’s a good point, but unfortunately…” Ah Wan bent down and whispered with a soft laugh right next to Little Snake’s ear. The warm breath seemed to grow legs and feet, traveling down along her pulse, stimulating her lower back and bottom with a constant, tingling numbness that made it hard to sit still.
“…after New Year’s, it’s the Year of the Snake. I’m afraid we’d have to hang you on the door.”
“Huh?”
Little Snake slowly turned her head, blinking at Ah Wan. She clearly wanted to say something, but the words stuck in her throat and she swallowed them back down.
Ah Wan found it secretly amusing. She reached out and rubbed her head, asking, “What did you want to say?”
“Nothing…” Little Snake ducked her head, a little scared.
“Must you be hung up in winter? Winter is a bit cold… Can it be in spring?” she asked weakly.
“Of course, you have to be hung up in winter. But I have a method so we won’t have to hang you.”
Ah Wan couldn’t bear to tease her too much. After all, she was a little dumb snake. If she actually believed it, who knew how much trouble she’d cause.
Hearing this, Little Snake’s spirits immediately lifted. She grabbed Ah Wan’s arm and shook it hard, looking at her eagerly. “What’s the method?”
“Secret,” Ah Wan said, keeping her in suspense. She let Little Snake cling to her arm and act cute and coquettish, but refused to open her mouth. Inside, she felt utterly pleased.
After dinner, while washing the dishes, Little Snake didn’t leave her side either, sticking to her like glue. She kept repeating quietly: “Human, what exactly is the method?”
Ah Wan finished the dishes, glanced at her, then turned and went back inside the house. Little Snake paused for a second, then quickly followed.
In the storage room were several boxes of fireworks. Ah Wan carried them all out to the yard.
Little Snake followed her every step, her brow furrowed with worry.
After arranging the fireworks, Ah Wan turned around and handed the lit incense stick to her, saying, “Light the fireworks. Drive away all evil spirits. Then we won’t have to hang you on the door.”
Hearing this, Little Snake hurriedly reached out and took the incense stick. She glanced at Ah Wan, then walked forward and lit the fireworks one by one. But she still asked, somewhat uneasily: “Human, when driving away evil spirits, will Snakey be driven away too?”
“No,” Ah Wan’s features were as beautiful as a painting, her gaze gentle as water as she looked at her, saying firmly, “You are not an evil spirit. You are…”
Boom! Fireworks exploded in the pitch-black night sky, swallowing the darkness and drowning out the second half of Ah Wan’s sentence.
Little Snake was captivated. She tilted her head back and stared blankly, letting out an involuntary “Wow.”
Ah Wan frowned slightly, as if a little disappointed that Little Snake’s attention was no longer on her. In the next moment, without any hesitation, she cupped Little Snake’s face, lowered her head, and kissed her lips again.
The colorful fireworks above bloomed brilliantly in the night sky, hanging over the old, withered tree that had stood dead for years in front of the door. They looked like heart veins spreading out, blossoming into brilliant spring flowers.
Spring hadn’t arrived yet, but Ah Wan’s heart had prematurely taken root, imperceptibly sprouting emerald buds and delicate buds. They couldn’t be touched or handled. One touch, and all the flower buds would scatter, landing heavily and filling her heart.
She released the human in her arms. Taking Little Snake’s hand, she placed it on her own neck to warm it. Covering Little Snake’s ears, she gazed at her tenderly and spoke: “Spring is here.”
Little Snake looked at Ah Wan with a dazed, innocent expression. Her eyes reflected Ah Wan’s image, gradually shifting from blurry to clear.
In the next moment, she took the initiative to wrap her arms around Ah Wan’s neck, stood on tiptoe, closed her eyes, and kissed her back.
“Human, Snakey likes you so, so much.”
