In the grass beside the stream, the black snake was feeding after a successful hunt.
Its lower jaw unhinged and spread wide, first engulfing the fawn's head. Its jaws moved in alternation and its muscles rippled, slowly swallowing its prey.
The black snake was patient.
Once it finished eating, it could not be bothered to move elsewhere. It stretched out beneath the sun, almost perfectly still.
Inside its body, however, its metabolism surged dozens of times over. Its organs worked silently beyond their normal capacity, wasting no time breaking down and digesting the food.
Other snakes might need days to finish digesting. The black snake was much faster.
Night fell.
A wildcat carrying a field mouse in its mouth stopped as it passed the grass.
Their gazes briefly met, then parted. Keeping a safe distance by unspoken agreement, the wildcat slipped quietly back into the night.
The full moon rested upon the ridge, its light flooding the slopes. The deep night was almost as clear as day; even the swaying leaves could be seen. Yet the slopes beyond the moonlight were black as an abyss. Insects chirped faintly in the woods, and owl cries sent chills through the air.
Through its heat sense, the black snake spotted a small source of warmth moving now quickly, now slowly. It stopped atop a rock whitened by moonlight, stood upright, and bowed toward the distant moon.
The snake had never eaten one. They released a pungent, suffocating smell that left it with no desire to hunt them.
Feeling that it had more or less finished digesting, it slowly slithered out of the grass.
The weasel worshipping the moon on the rock startled, but did not flee. Its little eyes gleamed as it watched curiously, following the great snake as it wound across the stream and vanished into the mountain shadows on the opposite bank.
The black snake needed to return to the boulder before dawn.
When it reached its lair,
it saw the man in blue sitting upright, with a plain hemp mat laid beneath him. The book boy leaned against a pine stump, dozing, while the hunter huffed and puffed as he worked on a path farther down the slope.
Seeing the black snake return, the man casually cupped his hands.
"Brother Snake, good morning."
The black snake paused, flicked its tongue out of habit, then slithered to its usual spot and quietly coiled up.
It could not understand the sounds the other creature made. They were complicated, and it could not tell what they meant.
"My name is Chi Ke. Weary of the mortal world, I have come to build a hut in these mountains and live in seclusion. In days to come, I shall lay out beds to grow medicinal herbs and draw spring water to brew tea. I will be troubling you often, and I beg your indulgence."
It still could not understand. Breathing in the mist mattered more, so it let him make his noises.
The mist arrived, and it raised its head high to breathe.
The blue-robed man named Chi Ke also made a fair imitation of breathing practice. Had anyone stumbled upon this scene, the mountains would have gained another strange tale. Fortunately, the mountain mist shrouded everything tightly; anyone looking up from below would see only a blank expanse.
Birdsong, the book boy's intermittent snores, the clattering of rocks tumbling as the hunter worked on the path, and the sound of wind.
Neither the snake nor the man actually understood the art of breathing practice. In any case, long, deep breaths seemed the right thing to do.
The mist gradually dispersed.
Chi Ke opened his eyes and slowly adjusted to the sunlight. Golden radiance fell warmly over him, and his mind felt washed clean. For a moment, everything seemed hazy and uncertain; he could not tell whether he had truly discovered a method of cultivation.
Suddenly, he recalled an old account.
Years ago, a recluse had discussed how to find blessed grounds for cultivation and mentioned the simplest method: wherever spirits or monstrous beasts dwelled and cultivated, there was sure to be a nexus of spiritual energy.
This place was extraordinary, and the black snake did not begrudge his presence. Only thus had he glimpsed a faint glimmer of the path to immortality.
Since he was borrowing the black snake's treasured ground, he ought naturally to offer something in return.
He took an old book from inside his robe. Its pages were yellow as autumn leaves, their edges worn ragged.
"Several years ago, I happened upon this ancient book. It records the Qi-Refining Breathing Art. I would gladly study it together with you, Brother Snake, as a token of my gratitude."
Without worrying whether the black snake could understand, he opened the book and began to read.
The black snake raised its head, a trace of bewilderment appearing in its slit pupils. It did not understand why he kept calling, or why his cries were so complicated and disorderly.
It could not understand what he was trying to convey.
Chi Ke did not understand the book either. With no one to resolve his doubts and no guiding thread to follow, he could only guess at the strange symbols and ancient seal characters covering its pages like celestial script. He could not even tell whether they were secrets of cultivation or the delusions of some predecessor. Driven solely by an obsessive longing, he groped between the lines.
The wording was obscure and the sentences made little sense. Through a mixture of blind guesses and conjecture, he pieced together a so-called breathing art.
That was the situation. Since he had nothing else to do, he might as well practice it.
In truth, he knew perfectly well that the black snake could not understand. He needed an audience willing to let him talk to himself, a chance to pour out all the worries that had accumulated within him.
The confusion and obsession deep in his heart needed somewhere to settle.
Upon the blue-gray rock, a man and a snake faced each other.
One frowned over an old book, reading in fits and starts; the other leisurely flicked its tongue. Two strays who knew nothing of cultivation solemnly probed mysteries and contemplated the Dao deep amid the clouds, becoming an absurd little scene in the mountains.
The black snake lowered its head to inspect the book.
It felt neither yearning nor fascination. Its tongue drew close to the pages, picking up a faint scent of vegetation.
Before long, Chi Ke finished talking to himself, brushed off his robes, and rose. Smiling broadly, he walked slowly down the mountain along the way he had come. The book boy followed, gathering dry pine needles into his basket as he went. They could use them as tinder once they returned.
The hunter was still sweating as he dug earth and moved stones.
In no hurry to hunt, the black snake remained alone on the boulder, basking in the breeze and staring blankly.
A hawk circling overhead searched the mountain woods, overlooking the black snake's oversized body as usual. Its luck was poor today, however, and a flock of crows spotted it.
The brief melee soon ended. Defeated, the hawk was chased and pecked by the flock of crows, driven farther and farther away until it vanished from sight.
After feeling the breeze for a while, the snake clearly sensed a slight chill in the air.
It suddenly recalled that inexplicable restriction, but its simply structured little brain had no idea how to tackle such a problem.
Bewilderment, confusion...
Perhaps because it had just inhaled the morning mist, it could think a little longer.
The black snake did not know what that dimly sensed restraint affected. It knew very little, yet instinctively felt that something bad had happened and that it needed to do something, though it had no idea where to direct its efforts.
For the first time, the black snake learned to worry.
It actually refrained from hunting because of this, letting the sun heat its entire body. Occasionally, it shifted a little, its belly scales scraping over the rock with a soft rustle.
At noon, the hunter led the yellow dog down the mountain to rest, while the black snake remained lost in confusion.
It had eaten prey only last night and was not particularly hungry today.
From the blazing sun high overhead until the slanting sunset painted the evening clouds, its sun-heated head gradually cooled, yet it still gained nothing.
After night fell,
a dim candle lit the window of the thatched hut at the bottom of the valley, becoming the mountain's only human light. The yellow dog diligently guarded the door, barking a few times at every rustle of wind or grass, protecting the hunter's snores.
Meanwhile, the black snake, coiled worriedly upon the rock, keenly sensed something unusual. Its body, which had shown no changes since shedding its skin, had actually begun to swell with strength!
"..."
It was a surprise. Though the change was minuscule, it was like a spark lighting up the darkness.
Then the black snake grew even more confused.
Why would its body, which had stopped growing, grow stronger again?
It could not obtain
an answer from the outside world, nor had the thought of asking ever arisen. Its head contained no understanding of what it meant to seek help.
Since it could not fathom the mystery, it simply resorted to a clumsy method: repeating what it had done before.
If it kept maintaining that inexplicably worried state, it ought to work.
And so the black snake worried until dawn, when Chi Ke climbed up with the panting book boy in tow.
There was no morning mist that day, so neither the snake nor the man practiced breathing. After sitting blankly on the boulder for a while, Chi Ke took out his treasured ancient book and read aloud to the empty mountains. The black snake concentrated on worrying. Each pursued his own cultivation...