Chapter Ten: Hanging by a Thread

Inside a room, Li Hu sat at the edge of the bed, facing Wu Yiyi. On the table lay several jars of rouge and powder, a calligraphy brush, and a finely crafted wooden comb.

To prevent him from seeing his own appearance ahead of time, all the mirrors in the room had been taken away by Li Pingyang.

First, Wu Yiyi dipped the brush in some pigment and applied two blobs of blush to his cheeks. She misjudged the amount, and soon enough, Li Hu sported two glaringly red cheeks.

With his honest, guileless smile, Wu Yiyi couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing her amusement, Li Hu’s face darkened and he stared blankly at a spider perched on the beam above.

A short while later, after a round of grooming and dressing up, Li Hu had become entirely unrecognizable. Wu Yiyi stifled her laughter, pushed open the door, and darted out; Li Pingyang waited curiously outside.

“I told you I couldn’t do this!”

After a bit more waiting, Li Hu emerged, complaining, his hands covering his face. Though he had no idea what he looked like now, the laughter from Yiyi told him everything he needed to know.

Li Hu was clad in a child’s outfit; his hair styled into an inverted triangle, the rest bundled atop his head like a bun. The terrifying blush on his cheeks was accentuated by two black circles drawn with ink around his eyes. A charming cherry-red spot adorned his nose, and his aged, bristling mustache completed the look.

Just imagining him standing at the village entrance in the dead of night was enough to make one shudder.

His ill-fitting clothes left his round belly exposed, adding a comical touch; the sleeves were much too short, making him look exactly like the foolish son of a wealthy landowner.

As he tried to stretch his legs, his pants tore with a loud rip—now he had open-crotch trousers to complete the ensemble!

“How dreadful!”

Li Hu let out a shrill cry and covered himself with a handkerchief. Li Pingyang felt a stabbing pain in his eyes, and for a moment, he considered blinding himself.

He thought to himself, how blind must that snake demon be to mistake him for a child?

“Mother, this person is so ugly!” a village child said innocently, pointing at Li Hu. His words broke the dam for everyone who had been holding back their laughter, and the crowd burst into loud guffaws.

All prepared, Li Hu took a meat bun and squatted in a dilapidated temple in the village, quietly waiting for the prey to take the bait.

The full moon hung high, and a sudden chill wind swept through the village, rattling doors and windows in every home. Li Pingyang stayed in a house opposite the ruined temple, his gaze fixed on the events unfolding there.

A sound of flute drifted through the air.

Wu Yiyi stood atop the roof tiles, eyes closed as she played the flute. Its haunting notes floated into the silent valley.

After a while, the sinister wind abruptly ceased, and a white figure appeared at the village entrance. Yet it was not a snake, but a young man.

The young man wore a white robe and walked slowly, eyes closed, lost in the music. Seeing that he had taken the bait, Wu Yiyi put away her flute and stopped playing.

The youth’s brows furrowed. As the flute fell silent, his previously enchanted expression twisted into a ferocious snarl.

He sniffed the air, revealing sharp fangs. His features began to contort, soon morphing into the visage of a snake.

His robe slipped to the ground, and he revealed his true form: a white snake covered in fur, with jet-black pupils, slithering towards the ruined temple.

Within the temple, Li Hu was tense, nervously eyeing the Buddha statue. Hearing movement outside the door, he swallowed hard.

His knife was hidden beneath the statue's base, covered by a heap of weeds. The room was rigged with traps—if the snake set foot inside, it would trigger a mechanism and be caught!

With a crash, the temple’s wooden door was flung open from the outside, and a gust snuffed out all the candles within. A white snake head poked inside, followed by its body.

In the moonlight, Li Hu, his back to the snake, saw a huge dark shadow moving toward him. When it reached overhead, the shadow suddenly stopped.

The white snake scanned its surroundings warily and spotted the trap on the beam. If it moved forward, a giant net would drop and capture it.

Sensing the danger, the snake prepared to flee. Li Hu tossed away his bun, swiftly drew his knife from beneath the statue, and shouted before slashing at the snake.

At the moment their eyes met, Li Hu abruptly froze, knife raised in midair, unmoving.

When Li Pingyang rushed in, the white snake was gone. Li Hu stood in place, knife held aloft; just as Pingyang began to ask where the snake had gone, Li Hu swung his blade at him.

“Li Hu, what are you doing?”

Li Pingyang bent low to dodge, exclaiming in alarm.

He realized Li Hu was not joking but truly intent on killing him—he barely avoided the blow, and the wooden window behind him was smashed by Li Hu’s blade.

Li Hu seemed out of control, not acting of his own will. He struggled in agony, then gritted his teeth and urged, “Run!”

Another swing came down, and Pingyang had no time to evade. Wu Yiyi quickly played her flute, channeling her energy into a thin black thread that halted the blade above Pingyang’s head.

Li Hu kept pressing down, forcing the blade lower; Wu Yiyi’s face showed strain, as she fought to hold him back.

Through Li Hu’s pupils, Pingyang saw the white snake coiled atop the wooden beam above the Buddha’s head. Wu Yiyi wanted to warn him not to look into the snake’s eyes, but it was already too late.

Pingyang stood frozen, likewise controlled by the snake, though his will was strong enough not to be completely subjugated.

Only his eyes could move. He signaled Wu Yiyi with his gaze; at first she didn’t understand, but then noticed he was looking at the ring on his finger.

Uncertain if that was his meaning, she resumed playing the flute. Upon hearing the music, the snake relaxed, closed its eyes, and its control over the pair weakened.

Seizing the moment, Wu Yiyi linked Pingyang’s finger to the black thread, helping him grasp his sword. Suddenly, his ring flashed with light.

Seeing it worked, Wu Yiyi continued to manipulate the thread. Pingyang finally seized the short sword, his consciousness slowly returning. Just as he prepared to slay the snake, he found his hand immobilized again.

Turning his head, he saw a villager had appeared behind Wu Yiyi, holding a vegetable knife to her throat.

The villager threatened her to let go, or he would kill her. His eyes were pitch black—he too was under the snake’s control. Pingyang sighed; they were so close!

He shook his head to signal Wu Yiyi to release her grip, but she refused, fiercely holding onto the black thread.

The snake’s power was immense, and the pressure on her fingers grew, slicing her skin and causing blood to flow.

Li Hu continued to press the blade closer to Pingyang. As Wu Yiyi controlled both Li Hu’s hands and Pingyang’s fingers, her energy was rapidly depleted, and the black thread thinned.

She clung desperately to the fragile line, unwilling to give up.

Blood dripped from the thread onto the floor. She watched as it stretched to its limit, and with a sharp snap, it broke.