Jiang Shu’s heart was still pounding, and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across her back.
She looked at the little emerald-green snake now docilely coiled around the young man’s wrist, then glanced at the paper bag she had thrown on the ground. In an instant, she realized she had completely misunderstood him.
But realizing that did nothing to banish her fear.
It was a snake! A living, breathing snake! In all her life, she had never come this close to one of those cold, slimy creatures flicking its tongue.
When had it slipped into the bag without her noticing? Back at the shop? Or while she was walking out?
Just thinking about it made Jiang Shu’s scalp prickle.
Though the young man had restrained it, the green snake still held its little head high, its bright red tongue flicking in and out as it made a faint hissing sound. Its beady black eyes were fixed on her.
Frightened, Jiang Shu took another step back. Her sneakers struck the stone path with a crisp click.
Seeing how pale she had gone, Shen Qingxu’s brow shifted almost imperceptibly.
He lifted the index finger of his other hand and gently tapped the little green snake on the crown of its head.
The gesture was as casual as stroking a pet cat or dog, yet it carried an unmistakable note of command.
Strangely enough, the snake, which had been restless just a moment ago, immediately quieted. It stopped flicking its tongue and obediently lowered its head, coiling itself even more tightly around the young man’s cold, pale wrist. It didn’t move at all. At first glance, it truly looked like an exquisitely crafted, lifelike bracelet of green jade.
Jiang Shu stared, dumbfounded, her fear giving way, just a little, to astonishment.
Was this… what people meant by a snake charmer?
She had never imagined that a seemingly cold young man in this remote Miao Village could possess such an incredible skill.
Seeing that she was no longer so frightened, the young man said nothing more. He turned to leave, his back aloof.
As that figure was about to disappear, Jiang Shu found herself summoning a sudden burst of courage. Perhaps it was curiosity; perhaps it was because he was exactly her type. Almost as if possessed, she hurried after him a couple of steps and blurted out:
“Um… wait!”
The young man slowed, but didn’t stop completely.
Jiang Shu steeled herself and raised her voice. “What’s your name?”
At last, he stopped and turned halfway around.
The mountain breeze stirred the fine black hair over his forehead. The “green jade bracelet” on his wrist glimmered faintly in the dim light of the alley.
He looked at her, his gaze still utterly cool. His thin lips parted, and he said three words:
“Shen Qingxu.”
Shen Qingxu had left!
Jiang Shu collected herself, bent down, and picked up the paper bag she had thrown on the ground. She inspected it carefully, and only after confirming that it contained nothing but the gorgeous set of Miao attire did she let out a breath of relief. Still, the young man named Shen Qingxu and his elusive little snake had left a deep impression on her.
Carrying the bag, she followed the directions Uncle Luo had given her and soon found the guesthouse she had booked.
It was a three-story Stilt House. Its exterior retained the traditional wooden structure, but the warm-colored lanterns by the entrance and the modern sign announced that it was something more.
As expected, Uncle Luo was waiting outside. He was chatting comfortably with the guesthouse owner in the local dialect. The moment he saw Jiang Shu approach, he hurried over, his gaze sweeping over her Miao attire before he broke into a wide grin, showing all his teeth.
“Would you look at that, Young Miss Jiang! You look incredible in this! Even prettier than the girls from our village! The silver ornaments, the embroidery—why, you look like a fairy straight out of a painting!”
His praise was warm and frank, with the characteristic candor of someone from the mountains.
Jiang Shu felt a little embarrassed by the compliments and smiled. “You’re too kind, Uncle Luo. Is everything ready for check-in?”
“All taken care of, all taken care of! Here’s your key card. You’re on the third floor, in the room with the best view!” Uncle Luo handed her the card, then helped carry her luggage inside.
As soon as Jiang Shu stepped into the guesthouse, she understood why it had such high ratings.
The lobby was spacious and bright, with flagstones underfoot and walls in the warm tones of natural wood. Batik wall hangings and bamboo crafts lent the place a strong Miao character.
Yet nearby stood comfortable fabric sofas and bright floor lamps, and in one corner there was a self-service coffee machine and a tasteful little sign displaying the Wi-Fi password. Every modern convenience was there, yet it blended in perfectly, without looking out of place.
After thanking Uncle Luo, she carried her luggage upstairs to the third floor herself.
The wooden stairs gave a faint creak beneath her feet, lending them a charm of their own.
The room on the third floor did not disappoint.
When she pushed open the wooden door, the first thing she saw was an enormous floor-to-ceiling window. Nothing blocked the view: beyond it stretched a range of green mountains and layer upon layer of rooftops across the village.
Sunlight poured in unreservedly, filling the room with warmth and light.
The room, too, blended Miao style with modern comforts. A carved wooden bed was draped with simple, elegant gauze curtains; the bedding was soft, skin-friendly cotton; and the bathroom had a separate wet area, with everything new and spotless.
Jiang Shu set down her things and went straight to the window.
Far away, green mountain peaks rose one behind another, while mist drifted slowly along their slopes.
Nearby, the village lay quietly against the hillside. From time to time, wisps of cooking smoke curled upward, mingling with faint voices and the occasional bark of a dog, making the place seem even more serene.
Unlike the bustle of the city, everything here had slowed down. Even time seemed to flow more lazily.
A breeze slipped through the window, carrying the mountains’ particular coolness and the fresh scent of plants and trees. It brushed her cheek and stirred the gauze curtains.
Looking out at the quiet, ancient landscape in her elaborate Miao attire, she felt, for a moment, as though she had left all her troubles behind.
A sense of peace and ease, unlike anything she had ever felt, enveloped her.
She couldn’t help murmuring, as if to herself—or perhaps to the mountains and waters around her:
“This place… would be perfect for settling down.”
Shen Qingxu lived in the deepest part of the village, almost against the mountainside. His was a solitary, dilapidated Stilt House, its wooden walls darkened to a deep brown by age. Beneath the eaves hung several strings of dried herbs and bone fragments of indeterminate origin.
When he pushed the door open, the light abruptly dimmed. The air was scented with herbs and plants, and with a faint, strange sweetness that was almost fishy.
The furnishings were sparse; there was hardly a trace of modern technology.
A wooden table, a few bamboo chairs, several earthenware jars stacked in a corner, and, at the very back, a bed covered with indigo homespun cloth.
The window was very small, its opening covered with yellowed cotton paper. The light filtering through was murky and dim.
Shen Qingxu sat down beside the table. The little green snake, which had been “behaving” on his wrist for some time, immediately came to life.
Its entire body was emerald green, its scales fine and neatly arranged, catching the dim light with a faint, ghostly sheen, as if a piece of fine jade had come alive.
It raised its little head and fixed its beady black eyes on Shen Qingxu. Its bright red tongue flicked rapidly in and out as it gave a quick, faint hiss. Even the tip of its tail tapped restlessly against the tabletop.
Shen Qingxu lowered his eyes to look at it. In those dark eyes, usually so devoid of emotion, a trace of understanding seemed to pass.
He extended his index finger, pale and slender, and gently tapped the little snake’s cold head.
“You like her,” he said, his voice low and certain. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
The little green snake seemed to understand. Its raised head bobbed up and down several times, its tongue flicking even faster. A near-excited feeling crept into its hissing, and its slender body began to writhe slightly.
The faint understanding in Shen Qingxu’s eyes turned to an equally faint helplessness. He ran his fingertip down the snake’s smooth back. “But you scared her.”
The snake froze mid-wriggle. Its high head slowly drooped until it lay flat against the cold tabletop. Even its hissing grew weak and listless, unmistakably dejected.
Its bright red tongue lolled out, too, like that of a child who had done something wrong.
Just then, a butterfly fluttered lightly through the crack in the open door.
It wasn’t an ordinary cabbage white. Its wings were larger, and their color was an extraordinarily vivid, almost unearthly blue, edged with dazzling gold. As it flew, it seemed to trail tiny points of starlight.
It circled the dim room twice, then landed squarely on the knuckle of Shen Qingxu’s hand, resting flat on the table.
Its wings fluttered faintly, scattering flecks of powder so fine they were almost invisible.
Shen Qingxu didn’t move. His gaze shifted from the snake feigning death on the table to the patch of deep blue on his fingertip.
He fell silent for a moment, then sensed something.
Outside the window, the green mountains stretched beneath the ancient village, utterly still.
Suddenly, he spoke very softly, his voice clear in the silent room.
“This place is perfect for settling down.” He paused. The butterfly’s wings trembled against his fingertip. “Do you want to stay here forever?”
The deep blue butterfly remained on his fingertip for a full three breaths. Then it suddenly took flight, circled him once, and scattered more tiny, glimmering scales. Without hesitation, it turned and flew through the crack in the door, toward the bright, boundless mountain forest beyond, and disappeared from sight.
On the tabletop, the little green snake quietly raised its head. Its beady eyes watched the spot where the butterfly had vanished, and its tongue flicked out once.
Shen Qingxu drew back his gaze, his eyes still and unfathomably deep.