My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

It's just… how ironic is it that, this person before her, the one with a blood feud so deep, happens to hold her fatal weakness.

"When we return to the Southern Border, Aunt Zhu will weave the first outfit for the baby at the mansion, brew some sour jujube and sour fruits, and also…"

Chen Yi paused briefly, then continued with a smile:

"Lightly stroke your belly and murmur the child's name."

The tall woman's skin began to prickle with goosebumps, a visible shiver running down her spine.

Suddenly, she realized that everything about her seemed to be under this person's control. He had seized her fatal weakness and turned her into a wild horse—difficult to tame, yet tamed nonetheless.

Why had all of this fallen upon her?

Why couldn't she escape… and yet had to devote herself, heart and soul, to bear a bastard child for her enemy?!

Qin Qingluo's pupils began to lose their luster. With a dull thud, she collapsed to the ground.

The hairpin in her hand also fell with a clattering sound.

Meanwhile, Chen Yi was slowly undoing her pressure points.

A long, long time passed…

Finally, he released the points, sitting high on the chair as he looked down at the tall woman.

Qin Qingluo moved, as if unconsciously, an attempt to erupt with hatred that had been accumulating for years.

But Chen Yi turned and grabbed her wrist with a backhand. With a slight force, her body, which had just risen, was abruptly suppressed again.

"Qin Qingluo, it didn't have to come to this."

Chen Yi spoke slowly:

"The original plan was to give a proper farewell, leaving behind a good impression at the last moment. But unfortunately… alas, you lost control, which forced me into extreme actions too."

Qin Qingluo turned her head blankly, staring straight at Chen Yi.

His words were calm, yet carried an indescribable magic power:

"I gave you a chance, remember? Back then I knew you weren't Zhu E, but Qin Qingluo. I just didn't expect you still wanted to kill me…"

He paused for a moment.

Qin Qingluo stared at him.

Suddenly, he laughed and said:

"Heh, you don't realize… how well I understand you."

Qin Qingluo's serpent-like pupils widened.

Chen Yi spoke calmly:

"Zhu E encountered a Daoist nun who foretold the prophecy between us. How coincidental, isn't it? Though I wonder, is this Daoist nun one-armed… how much more coincidental that would be, wouldn't it?"

The tall woman's pupils shrank rapidly, her lips trembling uncontrollably.

"If it were Zhu E who was pregnant, you could still treat her as a transparent figure in the Prince Mansion, numb yourself daily until you no longer cared. Over time, you might even show her some pity. But how coincidental, it's you who's the one with child."

Her serpent-like pupils shrank even further, eyes filled with tears, tears born of fear.

The fact that he was aware of all this—that meant these weren't coincidences at all, but step-by-step meticulous calculations!

What kind of adversary had she encountered?!

"There are so many more… coincidences."

Chen Yi paused again before smiling and asking:

"Shall I continue?"

The violently trembling tall woman suddenly froze. Only after a long silence did her voice emerge weakly, in just three words:

"Shut… shut up…"

Chen Yi pursed his lips, smiled, and said:

"That will depend on the Prince's sincerity."

A trembling voice echoed by her ear:

"What do you want?"

Chen Yi replied indifferently:

"Swear yourself as my half-apprentice."

Qin Qingluo seemed incredulous, her face stiffened. After a long time, she finally said, "Fine."

She knelt on the ground, ready to bow her head.

But Chen Yi leaned down from his chair, approaching to support her shoulders.

When it came to bowing, Chen Yi was a bit repulsed by this ritual, especially when it was his own woman.

Even if she hated him to the core.

Qin Qingluo stared blankly at him, her eyes losing an unknown amount of vitality, her lips barely moving as if to repeat the same question: "What do you want?"

Chen Yi's smile softened, his tone warm as he said:

"When I wanted to take you as my disciple, I gave you a wild chrysanthemum that you crushed with your own hands. Now that you're about to become my apprentice, surely you must also treat me with courtesy, no?"

As his hand moved downward, the Prince finally realized what was happening. Her tall body trembled once again.

What does the Prince know of the hatred of losing a wife…

..................…

Meanwhile, at Jinya Pavilion, under the same moonlit sky.

After days had passed, the chaotic situation at Jinya Pavilion was finally cleaned up.

In truth, saying it was cleaned up thoroughly wasn't quite accurate. Jinya Pavilion remained in disarray, almost in ruins. After this incident, many long-term patrons stopped visiting, leading to a significant loss in connections. Jinya Pavilion had to spend large sums of money giving gifts as compensation.

The only solace was that Li Jisheng had been released and returned to manage Jinya Pavilion.

With him on-site, people no longer worried that Jinya Pavilion couldn't regain its former glory—even if its current momentum was undoubtedly diminished.

But hardly anyone knew… what Jinya Pavilion had lost most greatly.

"Alright, stop following me, it's so annoying."

In a pale red robe, Dong Gong Ruoshu walked briskly along a path shaded by bamboo groves. Behind her were four palace maids, two of whom were stout women, closely following the hems embroidered with fiery clouds that shimmered with brilliant crimson.

The palace's fabrics were, of course, exquisite, yet Dong Gong Ruoshu appeared utterly unaccustomed to these garments, nor to the group of maids shadowing her.

"Miss, be careful not to let your skirt touch the mud."

Xiaochan walked almost shoulder-to-shoulder with her, gently lifting her skirt to keep it off the ground.

Dong Gong Ruoshu kept silent, merely feeling a deep irritation. Overnight, Jinya Pavilion had been raided as though it were a den of bandits, exposing a large number of cult members—members who truly turned out to be cultists.

With the gaggle of maids trailing close behind, Dong Gong Ruoshu gradually neared the boudoir. Finally reaching her breaking point, she frowned and spoke with restrained anger: