Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Coiled Serpent's Flexible Armor

He Yu burst into hearty laughter, sitting on the edge of the bed as he said, “It’s rare for us to come here—let’s not go home tonight. Tonight, we’ll sleep on our master’s bed.”

After living at home for so long, the occasional change of scenery brought a sense of freshness, rekindling the bond between husband and wife and even evoking memories of first love.

Deng’er was, of course, delighted by He Yu’s suggestion, though she couldn’t help but worry, “Our white horse is still tied to the tree. What if someone steals it? Out here in the wild, what if there are tigers or wolves?”

He Yu reassured her, “Few people come this way, and I’ve never heard of any tigers or leopards here. Besides, the white horse is exceptionally clever, and the rein is tied loosely. There shouldn’t be any trouble.”

With that, Deng’er set her mind at ease.

Since they would be staying the night, Deng’er set about cleaning the place. He Yu took off his outer robe and handed it to her to use as a rag.

Cleaning and washing did not interest He Yu, so he went out for a stroll in the valley alone.

There was a herd of deer in the valley, dozens of white deer who, upon seeing a stranger, showed no fear; instead, they approached, bleating softly.

He Yu had considered shooting one of the white deer to roast for supper, but seeing their gentle, unworldly demeanor, he was moved by pity and abandoned the thought.

Suddenly, he remembered that the lake was full of white fish. If he couldn’t have venison, then roasted fish might be just as good. Shedding his clothes, he dove into the lake, immediately enveloped by its cool clarity. The valley was warm, the lake water clear and mild—a true delight.

The water was deep, teeming with fish that darted around, occasionally bumping into him. It didn’t take long for He Yu to catch eight white fish and toss them onto the shore.

Each fish weighed four or five pounds—enough to feed two people for a whole day. He Yu dressed, strung the fish through the gills with a branch, and carried them back to the house.

Deng’er, quick and nimble, had already cleaned the bedroom and kitchen by the time he returned. Seeing him with the fish, she exclaimed in delight, “I was just worrying about what we’d eat, and here it is!”

As she spoke, she handed over a dark, jacket-like object. “Husband, I found this on the bed. I’m not sure what it is—take a look.”

He Yu examined it carefully. The item resembled a vest from later ages, seemingly made of leather and covered in scales, thick with dust that concealed its true appearance.

He Yu took the vest to the lake and scrubbed it. As the dust washed away, its true nature was revealed: a dark red vest made from snakeskin, densely covered in scales, each adorned with black and dark red circular markings—a strange and uncanny sight. The vest was seamless, as though cut from a single piece of snakeskin.

Deng’er watched him and asked, “Husband, what is that?”

He Yu shook his head, uncertain. But as he examined it, he discovered four lines of text at the collar: “Armored with the scales of the Hooked Serpent; softest and hardest in equal measure; impervious to water and fire; unscathed by a thousand blades.” These sixteen characters, fine as silk, were engraved on eight scales—clearly an inscription. The ancients often inscribed prized objects. Without this tradition, no one would know what this thing truly was.

“Hooked Serpent Scale Vest!” He Yu blurted out, eyes turning to Deng’er.

She blinked in confusion, clearly having never heard of such a thing.

The Old Man Taiping was Zhang Jue’s master—surely his judgment could not be wrong. To find this item on his bed meant it was certainly a treasure.

He Yu searched his memory and vaguely recalled that the Classic of Mountains and Seas recorded a divine beast called the Hooked Serpent—over twenty meters long, dwelling in deep ravines, ferocious and venomous, with a forked tail often used to snatch people or cattle from the shore and swallow them whole.

A beast that could swallow cattle whole—surely the Hooked Serpent was fearsome. He wondered if armor made from its skin was truly as the inscription claimed—impervious to water, fire, or any blade.

He Yu mused, “The ancients often exaggerated in their writings. If this vest is truly impervious to all weapons, then what was used to cut and shape it? Isn’t that a contradiction?”

Deng’er’s eyes sparkled as she suggested, “Husband, why not try smashing it with a stone? If it breaks, the inscription was just boasting and it’s not worth keeping. But if it withstands the blow, it truly is a treasure. You could wear it beneath your clothes for protection.”

Her advice was sensible and worth a try. They laid the vest on a rock, and He Yu fetched a white stone to strike it.

With a crack, the stone shattered into pieces, leaving only some stone dust on the vest.

He Yu hadn’t dared use his full strength at first, but seeing the vest unharmed, he gritted his teeth and fetched an even larger stone.

There were many water-worn stones of all sizes by the lakeside, carried down by the waterfall.

The new stone He Yu chose was the size of a large pumpkin, weighing at least a hundred pounds.

Deng’er chided him, “Husband, that stone is too big! The vest does seem useful—don’t really break it.”

He Yu only smiled, saying nothing, and raised the stone to strike.

With a thunderous crash, the air filled with the scent of sulfur. Both stones split, yet the vest bore only faint marks, entirely unharmed.

“Haha! A treasure, truly a treasure!” Overjoyed, He Yu scooped Deng’er into his arms, kissing her as he carried her back into the stone chamber. Deng’er knew well what he intended; she wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheeks flushed crimson, too shy to meet his gaze.

…

A change of setting lent new excitement to their passion, different from their usual routine. After who knew how long, they rose from the bed, perfectly satisfied, but now quite hungry.

No sun shone in the valley, but by the light, it seemed to be late afternoon—too late for lunch.

Deng’er hurried to clean and gut the white fish. He Yu, always carrying his sword Juque, had no shortage of tools. She washed the fish and hung them from a tree to dry.

He Yu found a dead pine in the forest, dragged it out, and with a few swift strokes of Juque—sharp as a blade through mud—he cut it into small logs.

During the Eastern Jin, northern cuisine often involved grilling, so roasting fish was basic skill for Deng’er—an easy task, though they had no seasoning.

He Yu lit a fire in the stone pavilion with embers from the volcano’s mouth. Deng’er brought the fish and began to grill them.

Though clever and resourceful, He Yu only knew how to use a modern oven. Primitive grilling was not his expertise, so he simply watched Deng’er at work.

She skewered the fish segments on bamboo sticks and turned them evenly over the flames. As fire licked the fish, steam rose, the skin tightened, and oil began to sizzle out, soon filling the air with a delicious aroma.

Deng’er’s delicate nose twitched as she smiled, “The water of the Little Stone Lake is clear and the fish are fat—these white fish are perfect for roasting.”

He Yu, already famished from their earlier exertions, nearly drooled at the fragrance.

Deng’er’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she announced, “Once the fish is done, I get to eat first—husband, you’ll have to wait your turn.”

In the past, Deng’er treated He Yu with the utmost respect, like a new bride, never daring to joke. Now, after sharing a bed for some time, she had grown more relaxed, even playful.

He Yu pretended to be pitiful, sighing, “Ah, I’m so unlucky. It used to be you who let me eat first, now it’s my turn to wait—what am I to do?”

Deng’er burst out laughing, then teasingly handed him a piece of roasted fish. “You eat first after all, lest you tire of me and sneak off to find Lady Chen, sharing an umbrella and all.”

A few days before, He Yu had attended a banquet at Chen Jing’s, and on his return was caught in the rain, sharing an umbrella with Chen Qingyun. To avoid making Deng’er jealous, he’d kept it secret—clearly, she already knew.

Hearing Chen Qingyun mentioned, He Yu dared not say more. He smiled, “You’re too clever by half, my dear. It was only an umbrella—nothing happened!” He took a big bite of fish, but in his haste burned his mouth, yelping.

Deng’er leaned over, concerned, “Slow down, husband, slow down—you’ve burned yourself.” She moved closer, gently blowing on his lips, her face full of affection.

He Yu couldn’t help but smile, deeply moved. Deng’er loved him dearly, sometimes treating him like a child.

By then, another piece of fish was ready. Deng’er tore off a large piece and set it aside to cool for him, then took a smaller piece for herself.

Though unseasoned, the white fish was delicate and sweet, with a natural hint of saltiness and the fragrance of pine—truly delicious.

After a few bites, Deng’er praised it, then suddenly brought up an old topic, smiling, “Husband, you and Lady Chen are really well-matched. I’ve decided—once we reach Jiangnan, I’ll speak to her myself, ask her to marry you, and I’ll gladly become your concubine.”

He Yu was taken aback, waving his hands in protest. “Let’s not speak of this again. I’ve given my word and won’t go back on it. If you keep bringing it up, I’ll truly be angry.”

Seeing He Yu’s displeasure, Deng’er dared not persist, but gazed at him with shining eyes, thinking, “My husband is a man of both talent and deep feeling. I only regret my humble birth—Jiangzuo values family background so highly. I must not drag him down.”

After finishing the fish, they picked some cherry-like wild fruits in the forest and ate them together, laughing and chatting as dusk fell unnoticed.

He Yu stretched and got to his feet, pulling Deng’er up. “My dear, it’s getting late—let’s go bathe in the hot spring.”

Deng’er pressed her lips together shyly, but followed him hand in hand to the bathhouse.

He Yu slipped out of his clothes and into the pool. The spring bubbled up, sending out white steam; the room was misty, the water just above waist deep, its temperature perfect.

Deng’er sat by the edge, removing her shoes and socks, and dipped her pale feet in, gently splashing the water.

He Yu dove over to her, grabbing her feet. Deng’er shrieked as she tumbled into the pool.

Spring’s chill bestows the Huaqing Pool; the hot spring’s water caresses creamy skin. Deng’er’s snowy skin and delicate features were flawless, her graceful figure like a white fish frolicking in the water—a vision of beauty. He Yu’s heart surged as he drew near, beginning the game of big fish devouring little fish…

After bathing, He Yu returned to the west bedroom to rest. Deng’er washed their clothes and hung them near the embers in the pavilion to dry.

When He Yu awoke, dawn was breaking. Deng’er slept beside him, still lost in sweet dreams. Not wanting to wake her, He Yu tiptoed to the Sword Pavilion.

After a night over the fire, their clothes were dry. He Yu dressed and carried Deng’er’s garments to her bedside.

Just then, Deng’er woke, saw her husband bringing her clothes, and hurriedly sat up, chiding herself, “Forgive me, husband—I overslept. I should be serving you.”

He Yu grinned and kissed her cheek. “You serve me every day. Today, let me do something for you.”

Deng’er dressed and roasted the leftover fish from yesterday. He Yu picked more cherries and washed them in the lake.

He crushed the cherries, letting the juice drip onto the hot fish. The taste was exquisite. Deng’er copied him, and after one bite, her appetite soared, praising him, “Husband, you’re so clever—even the way you eat fish is unique.”

They ate their fill, doused the fire, and He Yu glanced at the sky. “Deng’er, we’ve been out a day—it’s time to go home.”

Deng’er looked around the valley, reluctance on her face. “Husband, this valley is so pleasant—I wish we could stay.”

He Yu teased her, “If you like, I’ll resign as captain and live here with you forever.”