2 - A Farewell to Mr. Luo

When White Van awoke, he was startled to discover how much he had grown. He thought to himself, “What was in that black snake's body? Eating it made me grow as if I had consumed a powerful tonic; even my size has increased tremendously.” Crawling out from the crevice in the rocks, he noticed that night had already fallen. His white scales appeared even more delicate and lustrous under the moonlight, yet he had mixed feelings about them. While the white scales were beautiful, they were also too conspicuous, making him more noticeable to predators compared to his kin. The original cave could no longer accommodate him, so White Van had to find new accommodations in the trees. Searching the area, he noticed a particularly large laurel tree with a scent that was extremely enticing to a snake. From then on, White Van made his home in the laurel tree. Due to his size, he no longer had any natural enemies except for large carnivores. Even the black eagle that once scared him so terribly could no longer do anything to him. With ample food, White Van spent his days either eating or basking in the sun. From a distance, one could easily see the two-meter-long white python hanging on the laurel tree. For some reason, ever since consuming the black snake's meat, White Van developed a fondness for moonbathing. The sensation of basking in the moonlight was different from sunbathing; the sun was warm and toasty, while the moonlight was cool and refreshing, clearing his mind in a way that sunlight could not. At night, he would crawl to the highest point of the laurel tree, opening his mouth wide to absorb the moonlight, treating it as a way of refining the essence of the sun and moon. Ten years passed in this manner. White Van grew to a length of seven or eight meters, looking quite terrifying, and the laurel tree, which he had rubbed against so much, now looked rather pitiful with its bark nearly worn off. Looking at the poor laurel tree, White Van flicked his tongue, “Hiss hiss… hiss hiss hiss…” In translation, he was bidding farewell to his home of over ten years. The laurel tree could no longer bear his weight. Now, the beasts of the mountain would avoid him as White Van had become omnivorous, eating nearly anything in his path. White Van’s huge body required a significant amount of food, and small animals like rabbits and mice could no longer satisfy him. As a result, wild boar nests in the vicinity had become frequent targets. He had never left the area in the past decade and had no idea where he was. He glanced at the laurel tree one last time with some reluctance before heading down the mountain. At the foot of the mountain was a path almost overtaken by grass. Following the path, he pondered whether he might encounter any humans, whom he hadn’t seen in over ten years. After traveling some distance, he spotted an old man by the roadside, carrying a basket and dressed in what looked like ancient attire. White Van wondered if he had not only reincarnated but traveled back in time to ancient days. The old man, looking weary from his journey, sat to rest on a roadside stone. He suddenly heard rustling behind him, and upon turning, nearly fainted at the sight of a seven- to eight-meter-long white python coiled nearby. “Please spare me, Snake Spirit! I’m just a herb gatherer passing through,” the old man trembled in fear. White Van hadn’t expected to frighten the old man so much. He raised his snake head and nodded, indicating he did not have the habit of eating people. The old man quickly got up to leave but realized the giant white snake was following him, causing his heart to race in fear. He had no choice but to keep walking. White Van followed the old man because he wanted to find a way out of the mountains, unfamiliar with the area himself. Having someone lead the way was quite beneficial. Following the old man led him to a Daoist temple, where an even older man with a long beard nearly touching the ground greeted them. “Daoist, Daoist, save me!” The herb gatherer cried, immediately kneeling in front of the elder Daoist. The elder Daoist quickly lifted him up, “Fear not, fear not.” White Van crawled up to the Daoist, raising his head and flicking his tongue. As White Van studied the Daoist, the Daoist examined him as well. After a moment, the Daoist spoke, “Do you realize you’ve terrified this old fellow?” Startled, White Van tilted his head to glance at the herb gatherer and, considering his massive size, quickly understood and nodded. “I see you possess some intelligence and aren't inherently malicious. If you have the heart to pursue the path of virtue, would you be willing to stay here and practice cultivation with me?” The Daoist offered seriously. Cultivation? White Van hissed a few times in response. The Daoist seemed to understand and nodded with a smile. White Van thought, if he could truly cultivate, it would be a preferable alternative to spending a lifetime in the wilderness. The Daoist reassured the frightened herb gatherer, who still cast wary glances at White Van before hastily departing. Nodding his snake head several times as a gesture of agreement, White Van committed to following this Daoist for cultivation. The Daoist introduced himself, “This is the Moon Viewing Temple, and I am its only Daoist, Daoist Wu Ming. From now on, you shall practice cultivation with me.” Daoist Wu Ming pushed open the temple doors and entered first, turning back to beckon, “Come in.” White Van twisted his body and slithered into the small temple, consisting of two rooms: one for ancestral tablets and the other for Daoist Wu Ming’s personal quarters, with firewood and cooking done outside. “You will stay in that room from now on and ensure no rodents or insects enter,” he said, pointing to the room with the ancestral tablets. Flicking his tongue, White Van grasped that his job was to guard the house. He happily obliged, as Daoist Wu Ming had just tossed him a small pill that tasted wonderful and brought a warm feeling to his belly, allowing him to go without food for almost half a month. Staying here provided food and shelter from the elements—a worthwhile exchange for White Van, who planned to reside here long-term. The beams inside the room became his nest, where he coiled up most of the time when not sunbathing or moonbathing. One day, Daoist Wu Ming called for him, prompting White Van to slowly descend from the rafters and slither over. “You were born a demon, unlike humans, and have already achieved the rare feat of gaining intelligence. Do not let it go to waste. From now on, come to hear me recite scriptures each morning,” Daoist Wu Ming said solemnly. White Van nodded his head, surprised that Daoist Wu Ming was truly intent on teaching him cultivation. Time flew by, and another year passed. Daoist Wu Ming seemed even more vibrant, though White Van had no idea of his actual age. Listening to the scriptures left White Van mostly confused; his snake brain seemed insufficient, causing most of what was taught to go in one ear and out the other. “Initially, all was void. The void merged into one, and permanence ceased. Misty and amorphous, no clarity or obscurity. Spirit subtle and complete, essence serene and abundant. Ancient and unchanging. Things attain form. Ancient lawlessness, vast namelessness. Heaven cannot replicate, earth cannot bear. Small forms the small, great forms the great. Containing all within, enveloping beyond. In yin, not decayed; in yang, not scorched. One passage unchanged, able to adapt. Birds fly, fish swim, beasts run. All beings live, myriad things thrive…” Daoist Wu Ming recited the scriptures with shaking fervor, and White Van listened in a similar rhythm, the verses sounding like musical chants to him, further adding to his bewilderment. One misty morning with light rain, someone knocked on the door. Daoist Wu Ming instructed, “White Snake, go see who it is.” Flicking his tongue, White Van slid down from the rafters and lazily slithered to the temple entrance. He used his head to push open the latch and saw no one outside upon opening the door. Finding an empty doorway peculiar, White Van glanced down to see a small basket containing a baby, its tiny limbs flailing, and a jade pendant adorning its body. Looking around but seeing no one, he picked up the basket with his mouth and closed the door, bringing the child to Daoist Wu Ming. Hearing the baby’s cries, Daoist Wu Ming was taken aback. He lifted the child from the basket, examined the jade pendant, and remarked, “It’s a boy.” White Van extended his head toward the baby, flicking his tongue, causing the baby to giggle. From then on, the Moon Viewing Temple had a new inhabitant. Daoist Wu Ming named the baby Lian Sheng, marveling at the child's extraordinary beauty. Having never seen such an exquisite child in both lifetimes, White Van agreed. With the added duty of caring for Lian Sheng, and to sustain the child, Daoist Wu Ming brought a dairy cow to the temple. Consequently, everyone at the Moon Viewing Temple had access to fresh milk. However, that cow was terribly afraid of White Van. Once, it got so scared it didn't produce milk for several days, leaving Lian Sheng starving and crying incessantly. As a result, White Van was warned never to approach the cow again. From then on, during Daoist Wu Ming's daily scripture recitations, there would always be a basket by White Van's side. The seasons passed, and five more years went by. Lian Sheng grew into a young boy, running around the temple on his small legs. Bored, White Van hung from the rafters. Recently, he felt itchy all over, a sign that he might be about to shed his skin. He thought about finding a quiet place to do so. “White Snake, come down and play with me!” Lian Sheng called out, waving his little fists. But White Van ignored him. The boy used to be cute when he was younger, but now he was becoming annoyingly persistent. When White Van didn't respond, Lian Sheng pouted angrily, “If you don't play with me, I won't share any milk with you.” White Van raised his snake head. This little kid was getting more irritating by the day, even daring to threaten him. Ever since coming to the Moon Viewing Temple, White Van had developed a fondness for food because Daoist Wu Ming frequently fed him small medicinal pills that made him feel exceptionally robust. Occasionally, he could even taste flavors, making the prospect of drinking milk quite appealing. “Hissss~” White Van flicked his tongue and slithered down from the rafters, lying down in front of Lian Sheng. The robust little boy promptly climbed onto White Van's back, shouting, “Giddy up! I'm riding a dragon! Let’s go!” White Van obliged, letting Lian Sheng ride on his back, reflecting on how the child’s energetic demeanor had become both a constant annoyance and a peculiar charm in his otherwise solitary existence.