How to Raise a Crazy Beautiful Snake Demon - Chapter 18

Ji Qingwu:

 

 

“…?”

 

 

To put it bluntly, this kind of threat was practically part of Zhu Jiuyin’s daily vocabulary. Having heard it so often, it no longer had any effect on her.

 

 

Thinking she had pinpointed the root of the issue, the corners of her lips curled slightly as she murmured,

 

 

“So it turns out you really dislike Junior Sister Song.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin seemed struck to the core, the scales on her neck immediately bristling as she retorted loudly,

 

 

“How could I, the exalted Serpent Sovereign, possibly dislike such a lowly underling? I simply can’t stand the way you righteous cultivators behave! With just a few petty favors, you’re ready to care for her, worry about her, and slave away for her, aren’t you?!”

 

 

Ji Qingwu responded bluntly,

 

 

“Didn’t you say there was something wrong with this pill? I was just reminding my fellow disciple to be cautious.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin grew even more furious, her tail slamming against the wardrobe with loud bangs,

 

 

“Who said there was anything wrong with this pill? It’s just a mediocre mid-grade Revitalizing Pill—utter trash!”

 

 

Ji Qingwu paused in surprise,

 

 

“…A Revitalizing Pill? So this is what a Revitalizing Pill looks like.”

 

 

Her original master had forbidden her from taking random pills, so she had never received any in her allotted resources. Her knowledge of pills was practically nonexistent, and she truly didn’t recognize a Revitalizing Pill.

 

 

Who would have thought? She had previously lamented never having seen one before eating it, and now here it was. She couldn’t help but lower her head to examine it a few more times.

 

 

After her outburst, Zhu Jiuyin noticed Ji Qingwu still studying the pill bottle. The scales on her neck gradually smoothed down as she spoke in a low, raspy voice,

 

 

“Foolish slave… Are you thinking of vomiting up my Revitalizing Pill now to take the one your junior sister gave you?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu was still regretting the loss of that high-quality pill. Following this line of thought, she mused,

 

 

“Well, if I had the choice, I’d probably take this mid-grade one first and save your premium one for when I’m seriously injured. Now I can only preserve this one.”

 

 

She carefully placed the pill bottle in a drawer for safekeeping.

 

 

Watching her movements, Zhu Jiuyin’s scales rippled in waves. Her neck arched midair as her eyes gleamed with a chilling gaze, her voice dropping to a whisper,

 

 

“So in the end, you still look down on what I gave you.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu:

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

What kind of logic was this? How had she reached that conclusion?

 

 

Shocked and bewildered, she turned to look, only to find Zhu Jiuyin staring at her with eyes filled with fury and sorrow, as if seeing right through her.

 

 

“Fine. Next time, I won’t toss the pill into your soup. I’ll clamp my jaws around your chin so you can’t close your mouth, and little by little… stuff it deep into your throat. Deeply… stuffing you full. Heh…”

 

 

She seemed to attempt a cold laugh but failed to produce the sound. After giving Ji Qingwu one last sinister glare, she twisted around with an air of finality and slithered back into the wardrobe.

 

 

No matter how Ji Qingwu coaxed or pleaded through the wardrobe afterward, there was no response. It wasn’t until the next morning that faint rustling sounds emerged, and Zhu Jiuyin only crawled out by late afternoon for dinner.

 

 

–

 

After that day, an odd atmosphere settled between the woman and the serpent.

 

 

On the surface, life seemed much the same as before, but subtle differences became apparent. Zhu Jiuyin’s attitude toward Ji Qingwu grew cold and indifferent. Unlike before, she no longer sought Ji Qingwu’s company, often keeping to herself instead.

 

 

Every morning, when Ji Qingwu awoke from meditation, Zhu Jiuyin was nowhere to be found inside the house. Even outside, she was rarely seen.

 

 

 

After her breathing exercises and physical training, it wasn’t until noon that the snake would return from the back mountain.

 

 

She would greet the snake warmly:

 

 

“You’re back! What have you been up to? Anything interesting happen?”

 

 

But the snake would only give her a cold glance and reply indifferently:

 

 

“Mhm. Nothing.”

 

 

Over time, Ji Qingwu began to feel that her enthusiasm was wasted on the snake’s cold scales, so she stopped being so warm. A simple nod when they met became enough.

 

 

By evening, Ji Qingwu would still prepare some food—soups, grilled meat, roasted dishes, or mixed grain rice—whatever she felt like making.

 

 

At first, she would ask Zhu Jiuyin what she wanted to eat, but the answer was always the same:

 

 

“Whatever.”

 

 

Soon, she stopped asking for input altogether and simply made whatever she wanted to try, though she always prepared a portion for Zhu Jiuyin.

 

 

Every night at dinner, Zhu Jiuyin would still come to eat, but the two sat in silence. Though Zhu Jiuyin always finished her portion, she no longer praised Ji Qingwu’s cooking, and Ji Qingwu no longer eagerly explained her methods.

 

 

After dinner, they no longer took walks together. If Ji Qingwu went in one direction, Zhu Jiuyin would deliberately go the opposite way, and she no longer returned to the courtyard at night.

 

 

Once, Ji Qingwu tried to spy on her with her spiritual sense, but Zhu Jiuyin blocked it from afar, making it impossible to see where she was or what she was doing.

 

 

Ji Qingwu guessed she was probably absorbing moonlight in the forest for cultivation—or maybe just sleeping.

 

 

She didn’t need Ji Qingwu to guard her anymore. What, was she no longer afraid of qi deviation?

 

 

This kind of life lasted less than a week before Ji Qingwu found it unbearable.

 

 

Now that she was confined, Zhu Jiuyin was the only living being around her all day, yet they barely exchanged a few words. It was suffocating.

 

 

Ji Qingwu tried to develop other hobbies, but reading was impossible—the ancient texts were so convoluted that she’d get drowsy after just a couple of lines. As for crafts, with her level of spiritual power, she could conjure anything with a wave of her hand, making manual work pointless. And this era didn’t have many useful tools anyway.

 

 

Cooking was one hobby, but in an environment without even a proper market, it was hard to innovate, so it quickly lost its appeal.

 

 

Besides, no matter what she did, her thoughts always circled back to Zhu Jiuyin.

 

 

What was Zhu Jiuyin doing? Where was she? Would she come back for dinner tonight? Without moonlight, would her cultivation go smoothly? Could she still suffer qi deviation? If she lost control on the back mountain, what could Ji Qingwu do to help?

 

 

But no matter how much she pondered, she found no answers, and whatever she was doing at the moment would be left half-finished.

 

 

That evening, the two ate in silence again. As Zhu Jiuyin was about to leave, Ji Qingwu mustered her courage and called out to her:

 

 

“Where are you going? Can I come with you?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin turned her head slightly, her crimson serpent eyes glinting as she looked at Ji Qingwu—a rare occurrence lately.

 

 

Ji Qingwu put on her gentlest expression and waited for a reply, her heart beating erratically.

 

 

Since when had just being looked at by Zhu Jiuyin made her so nervous?

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin finally spoke, her tone not flirtatious as before, but solemn:

 

 

“No need. I have important matters. It’s not suitable for you to follow.”

 

 

…Disappointing.

 

 

Ji Qingwu felt like a bird that had suddenly lost its wings, plummeting from the sky, her heart heavy with the fall. She forced a smile:

 

 

 

“Alright. Then be careful, don’t lose control again… cough.”

 

 

She realized her slip of the tongue and masked her embarrassment with a light cough. After clearing her throat twice, she looked up to find Zhu Jiuyin glaring coldly at her.

 

 

Then, Zhu Jiuyin let out a soft laugh, her voice regaining its usual teasing, bewitching tone:

 

 

“You really do have a way with words.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s face flushed red.

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin’s silver-white scales glided across the dark ground like a shimmering stream as she murmured:

 

 

“I wonder… how you’ll fare when the Bl00d Moon arrives.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu heard her clearly and looked up in shock, exclaiming:

 

 

“So, you’re preparing for the Bl00d Moon night?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin neither nodded nor shook her head. Instead, she turned away and slowly slithered forward, saying softly:

 

 

“I won’t become anyone’s burden.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s eyes widened as she wanted to chase after her for more answers, but Zhu Jiuyin had already vanished into the thicket.

 

 

So it was for the Bl00d Moon night! Thinking about it, the Bl00d Moon was indeed only a month away. It made perfect sense for Zhu Jiuyin to prepare in advance.

 

 

Ji Qingwu felt ashamed of her earlier assumptions. She had thought… Zhu Jiuyin was ignoring her out of anger over the incident with Junior Sister Song. Who would have guessed she was working toward a far more significant goal with long-term plans?

 

 

A sudden surge of admiration for Zhu Jiuyin rose within her.

 

 

That night, Ji Qingwu wandered through the forest, lost in thought about the Bl00d Moon. Unconsciously, she found herself at the cliff where Zhu Jiuyin had lost control.

 

 

Remembering the spirit bird that had been killed there, she sighed and decided to dig a grave for it, to lay it to rest properly.

 

 

She gracefully descended the cliff and looked around—only to freeze in astonishment.

 

 

How could this be? The spirit bird’s corpse was completely gone! Even the scattered feathers had vanished without a trace!

 

 

Even if other mountain beasts had eaten it, there shouldn’t be such a clean disappearance—no signs left at all!

 

 

Extending her spiritual senses, Ji Qingwu carefully searched the area. After a long while, she stared in shock at a particular spot.

 

 

There stood a small mound, beneath which were buried the spirit bird’s bones, feathers, and even all the bloodstained soil.

 

 

Atop the mound grew a peony.

 

 

Spiritual plants weren’t bound by seasons. Nourished by the spirit bird’s remains, the snow-white peony with pink-edged petals was now in full bloom, its layers of petals lush and golden stamens delicate, vibrant and lively.

 

 

Gazing at the strikingly beautiful, enormous flower, Ji Qingwu was overwhelmed with awe.

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin… had buried the spirit bird, planted flowers over it, letting everything return to nature’s cycle, allowing the sin of her loss of control to be reclaimed by the earth.

 

 

She… wasn’t she supposed to be wild and unrestrained? Why, in the unseen moments, was she so tender and thoughtful…

 

 

–

 

The next day, when Zhu Jiuyin returned to the courtyard, she saw Ji Qingwu holding a brush, scribbling and drawing on paper.

 

 

Taking advantage of the other’s distraction, she stole a few glances and noticed Ji Qingwu’s awkward grip on the brush. The characters she wrote were clearly not proper calligraphy—oddly shaped, yet not entirely unpleasant.

 

 

She seemed to be writing dates—One, Two, Three… arranged in order, with months written at the top.

 

 

When Ji Qingwu lifted her head, revealing her fresh, delicate features, her ink-black eyes brightened at the sight of Zhu Jiuyin, as if delighted.

 

 

 

Strange. He looked so dejected yesterday, so why is he so cheerful today? Zhu Jiuyin thought to herself.

 

 

She was about to walk past Ji Qingwu to go inside and sleep when he suddenly called out to her:

 

 

“Jiuyin, wait! I have something to tell you.”

 

 

Holding a piece of paper, he crouched down and unfolded it before Zhu Jiuyin’s eyes, his voice brimming with excitement and anticipation:

 

 

“Look, this is a calendar I calculated based on the dates. In five days, it’ll be the Mid-Autumn Festival in the mortal world. I’d like to invite you to celebrate it with me. Would you like that?”