How to Raise a Crazy Beautiful Snake Demon - Chapter 19

“Why are you crying? Did you miss me that much?”

 

 

The midday breeze carried the lingering heat of summer, yet the forest floor was already thick with fallen leaves—autumn had truly arrived.

 

 

Mid-Autumn Festival… Zhu Jiuyin narrowed her nictitating membranes, as if gazing through that messily written note into memories of the past, remaining silent for a long moment.

 

 

Ji Qingwu observed her expression, sensing no refusal. Heaven knew how she managed to read emotions on a little snake’s face, but she felt there was hope!

 

 

Seizing the opportunity, she pressed on:

 

 

“Here’s the thing. In the past, our sect would privately celebrate certain festivals. Mid-Autumn Festival was a time for disciples to relax. I rarely participated in these celebrations before, but this year… perhaps because I’ve been confined for so long, I suddenly really want to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival. I want to experience the joy of celebrating with others. Will you join me?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin slowly turned her head, her gaze lightly settling on Ji Qingwu as her forked tongue flicked out:

 

 

“You celebrate yours. What does it have to do with me?”

 

 

Undeterred by the rejection, Ji Qingwu continued:

 

 

“Because we’re the only two on this mountain. Mid-Autumn Festival is about reunion—families gather for feasts. You’re the only one here with me, so of course I want to celebrate with you.”

 

 

At this, Zhu Jiuyin lowered her head, her ruby eyes fixed on the ground as she murmured thoughtfully:

 

 

“Reunion, huh…”

 

 

Ji Qingwu:

 

 

“Mhm!”

 

 

After a pause, Zhu Jiuyin suddenly said:

 

 

“Did you know… we demons also celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival? Though we don’t call it that. For us, it’s the Moon Worship Day. On that night, all demons decorate with lanterns and streamers, dancing and singing around bonfires. It’s… lively.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu was enchanted. What was this if not the ultimate fantasy for city-dwelling office workers? A rustic, ethnic bonfire feast in the wilderness—poetry and distant horizons made real!

 

 

She glanced at Zhu Jiuyin and suddenly realized: she was a snake. Without hands or feet, how could she hold hands and dance with others? By gripping her head while someone pulled her tail?

 

 

The mental image made her snort with laughter. Worried Zhu Jiuyin might mistake it for mockery, she quickly changed the subject:

 

 

“That sounds so fun! How’s your dancing? Or do you sing instead?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin wasn’t looking at her and hadn’t noticed the laugh. A mist slowly veiled her gemstone eyes as she forced out words between flickers of her tongue:

 

 

“I… only watched.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu:

 

 

“Oh? Being an audience member is fun too—lots of gossip to enjoy!”

 

 

But Zhu Jiuyin shook her head:

 

 

“Not the audience. I was… the Condemned Woman.”

 

 

The last two words were nearly inaudible, but Ji Qingwu, a Nascent Soul cultivator, heard them clearly.

 

 

The ‘Ultimate Woman’? Some kind of title for the strongest female?

 

 

At first, she thought it sounded like a compliment—the most formidable woman. But Zhu Jiuyin’s expression and posture told her otherwise. This wasn’t a good thing. Not a happy memory at all.

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin’s head hung low, the ring of dark brown scars around her neck like manacles, weighing down her small serpentine body, making every movement laborious, even lifting her head a struggle.

 

 

Remembering the visions she’d seen in Zhu Jiuyin’s consciousness, Ji Qingwu realized her childhood likely hadn’t been happy. Festivals probably held no joy for her.

 

 

Worried, Ji Qingwu softened her voice and said:

 

 

 

“It’s really okay. If you don’t like the Mid-Autumn Festival, we don’t have to celebrate it. It’s fine…”

 

 

Before she could finish, that magnetic, slightly husky female voice interrupted her:

 

 

“Celebrate. Why shouldn’t we? We’re definitely celebrating.”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin seemed to have made up her mind, suddenly raising her head with eyes glowing bright red as she looked at Ji Qingwu:

 

 

“Spending Mid-Autumn Festival together—fine. I’m in.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu was overjoyed:

 

 

“I’m so glad you’ve come around! Thank you! With you joining us, that day will surely be wonderful! And don’t worry—I know you’re busy, so I’ll handle most of the preparations. You just need to show up… or rather, just slither in!”

 

 

Ji Qingwu was so happy she almost wanted to shake Zhu Jiuyin’s hand to seal their agreement, but after looking for a while, she realized Zhu Jiuyin didn’t actually have hands. Suddenly grabbing her tail for a celebratory shake seemed rather impolite, so she reluctantly gave up the idea.

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin gazed deeply into her eyes, as if assessing the sincerity of her joy, before finally speaking slowly:

 

 

“Very well. I shall wait and see.”

 

 

Ji Qingwu pressed her lips together and nodded firmly, then happily went inside to help Zhu Jiuyin change her handkerchief and settle comfortably into the wooden basin.

 

 

Afterward, she slipped out to the forest behind the mountain, wrote a note, and with a flick of her fingers, transformed it into a snow-white spirit pigeon. Focusing on the recipient’s name and address in her mind, she sent the pigeon flying beyond the barrier.

 

 

The Mid-Autumn Festival campaign had begun! She was determined to make it an unforgettable, memory-filled celebration—a milestone marking her integration into this world and a step forward in her relationship with Zhu Jiuyin!

 

 

Confident and full of enthusiasm, Ji Qingwu set about her preparations.

 

 

She had so many ideas: first, preparing special Mid-Autumn delicacies, then decorating the courtyard, perhaps even making some festive accessories or outfits that girls might like. She also wanted to craft a few lanterns.

 

 

And, of course, she planned to make a small gift for Zhu Jiuyin—something beautiful, elegant, and portable, preferably with some additional functionality.

 

 

Fortunately, the cultivation world had plenty of peculiar spells to work with. Having recovered most of her spiritual energy after taking that high-grade rejuvenation pill, creating a few fancy little items was no trouble at all.

 

 

Ji Qingwu drew up a schedule, outlining her plans before diving into the preparations with cheerful humming and busy hands.

 

 

It had been a long time since she’d felt so fulfilled. Having a goal made everything more interesting, and seeing the results gradually take shape in her hands brought an unparalleled sense of accomplishment.

 

 

But… despite agreeing to join the celebration, Zhu Jiuyin continued with her usual aloofness, leaving early and returning late—or not at all—even more frequently than before. Previously, she’d come back at least once a day, but now she barely appeared for a few hours every couple of days, vanishing again before dawn.

 

 

Between her evening meditation and sleep, Ji Qingwu often wanted to update Zhu Jiuyin on the preparations, but the snake’s shadow was nowhere to be found.

 

 

When the mooncake ingredients arrived, she became even busier. In her past life, she’d never been much of a cook, and now, without the convenience of recipe apps on her phone, she could only vaguely recall how to make no-bake crystal glutinous rice mooncakes.

 

 

Her attempts were disastrous—wasting plenty of ingredients before producing a mess of results: fillings bursting through skins, too little filling leaving mostly dough, sticky textures clinging to teeth, hands, and clothes—every possible failure.

 

 

Ji Qingwu heaved a long sigh at the sky:

 

 

 

“All successful mooncakes are alike, but every failed mooncake fails in its own way!”

 

 

But what could she do? She was the one who suggested celebrating the festival—how embarrassing would it be if there weren’t even mooncakes? She had no choice but to practice diligently, think hard, and conduct more trials.

 

 

These trials lasted until late at night. Under the autumn stars and moon, Ji Qingwu worked busily, carefully removing the mold, when she suddenly let out a long sigh:

 

 

“Wow! Finally! Success!”

 

 

She gazed at the small, adorable crystal mooncake in her hand, her heart swelling with pride. She gave herself a big thumbs-up—she was absolutely amazing.

 

 

But then… her expression suddenly dimmed.

 

 

Tonight was already the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival. Once the hour of Zi passed, it would officially be the festival day, yet Zhu Jiuyin still hadn’t returned.

 

 

Maybe Zhu Jiuyin didn’t want to celebrate this festival at all? Maybe the promise was just an offhand remark, forgotten afterward? Maybe, haunted by unpleasant memories, she had agreed but then changed her mind?

 

 

Was all this effort really meaningful? If no one appreciated them, wouldn’t these little creations, filled with her careful thoughts, just end up lonely and forlorn?

 

 

The moonlight had long since vanished behind the clouds, and the stars flickered listlessly in the sparse sky. Apart from the wind rustling through the forest, there was no one to keep her company.

 

 

Ji Qingwu’s vision gradually blurred. She didn’t know what was wrong—her eyes and nose tingled, and with every gust of wind, she felt like crying.

 

 

She was starting to resent Zhu Jiuyin a little. Why make promises you can’t keep…?

 

 

She bit her lip silently, swallowing back a sob. She was the senior disciple; she shouldn’t be this fragile. So what if she spent the festival alone? She could handle it…

 

 

“Qingwu.”

 

 

Someone spoke behind her.

 

 

The voice was too warm to sound like Zhu Jiuyin, yet it unmistakably was.

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

Ji Qingwu snapped out of her thoughts and turned around. The next second, her tears turned to laughter.

 

 

“You’re back! I thought—”

 

 

“Thought what?”

 

 

Zhu Jiuyin looked up at her carefully, her bright eyes brimming with amusement. Even her comfort carried a teasing lilt:

 

 

“Why the tears? Did you miss me that much? Be good now. This is our first festival together—I’d never miss it.”