My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

The room returned once more to its former silence, even lonelier and more untouched than before.

Yin Weiyin stared at the wavering candle flame, lost in a daze. The cloying aftertaste of the bird’s nest soup still lingering in her throat at this moment was like Chen Yi’s scrutinizing gaze in the daytime—hard to dispel. Her autumn eyes lowered slightly, and for a time she grew weary of pure cultivation.

Only, to sit thus all night in such a withered trance, letting her thoughts rise and fall, was ultimately not good.

She drew a deep breath, forcing down that inexplicable heaviness.

The Taichua Goddess, with a Taoist Heart clear and bright—how could she slacken her very root for the sake of a few external disturbances?

She warned herself that no matter how fine Qin Yue’s aptitude, he was at most an embroidery on brocade, a chance encounter that might add a little color to the long road of the Dao, yet by no means a necessity.

Even Chen Yi, who served as Golden Boy... Without him, with her own foundation and ten thousand years of cultivation, would she really be unable to attain immortality, to prove the Dao?

What a joke!

At that thought, the ripples in her heart smoothed at once; her Taoist Heart grew clear and firm again, like a bright mirror wiped free of dust.

She no longer hesitated, rose, and walked to the bookshelf, intending to take down a few scrolls of Taoist Scripture such as the Yellow Court or the Yinfu, to recite a few Chapters, calm her heart and mind, and then sit in meditation as usual.

However, just as her fingertips brushed the cold spine of a book, a light knocking sounded again from outside the room.

Tok, tok, tok.

In the deep night when all creation was silent, this sound was peculiarly clear, and peculiarly abrupt.

Yin Weiyin’s brows knit slightly; the thoughts she had just set in order were interrupted for a moment, giving rise to a trace of displeasure. Her tone cooled as she asked toward the door, "Who is it?"

She heard the maidservant’s familiar voice from outside, tinged with some timidity: "Immortal Lady, it is your servant... Your servant wished to bring you some dessert soup after your meal."

Delivering food again?

Yin Weiyin’s faint displeasure deepened. It seemed the rules of the Prince Mansion were overly fussy, or this maid was too conscientious. She had no wish to tangle further and refused outright: "No need. I have said there is no more use for it. Withdraw, and do not disturb my cultivation."

There was a moment of silence outside the door.

Yet the maid did not leave at once as commanded, lingering there in hesitant indecision.

Such reluctance to retreat, falling into the eyes of Yin Weiyin, who was just about to enter quiet cultivation, was no different from a silent defiance. The thin strand of dissatisfaction in her heart grew heavier.

A maid so ignorant of propriety—who had taught her thus, she wondered? Could it be someone had instructed her to cause trouble?

Yin Weiyin’s expression cooled; she turned abruptly, strode to the door in a few steps, and with a faint note of reprimand, flung it open.

"Did I not say..."

The scolding stopped short.

For she saw that the maid holding the tray was indeed standing there, her face full of frightened embarrassment; yet behind her, a step further back in the shadows of the corridor, there had at some point silently appeared another figure.

Moonlight mingled with the halos of the lanterns along the corridor, outlining a familiar silhouette. He seemed to be holding a small food box as well, watching her with a look that was half smile, half not.

Who else could it be but her Golden Boy, Chen Yi?

"Am I to be dismissed as well?"

While she was still dazed, she heard him ask leisurely.

He had no intention of taking the opportunity to come forward, nor of leaving; he simply stood there.

The female crown did not, for a moment, know what to do. If she bade him stay, it would make her seem too eager, losing the composure of the Taichua Goddess, and the poise of the First Lady as well. Yet if she let him go—how could she bear to let him go?

Under the moonlit night, after a long pause, Yin Weiyin gathered her expression and said softly, "Has my lord come to seek me for cultivation? If you have something to say, come in and speak."

Chen Yi did not tease her. Carrying the food box, he walked forward at an unhurried pace, waved a hand to send the maid away. The latter did not dare disturb them and hastily vanished from the courtyard.

Entering the room, he set down the food box, then turned to see that Yin Weiyin had added another lamp. The hall was much brighter now. Chen Yi glanced around. The place was elegant, yes, but still a touch too quiet. Since Yin Weiyin was a Taoist, she had dismissed the maids and servants assigned by the Prince Mansion, making the place all the more desolate.

Perhaps it would be better to have Lin Wanxiao share a courtyard with her, to give her some company. Yet as Chen Yi considered it, he thought that little girl could hardly withstand Yin Weiyin’s coaxing; better that he come visit her more himself.

Chen Yi lifted the lid of the food box and brought out the dishes within. They were all simple, light fare; with the time so limited, even with his skillful hands he could do no more. In the end he took out a bowl of snow fungus soup. The female crown’s gaze brightened for a moment, then she suddenly felt something amiss.

Why did it feel like... a last meal before execution...

Who knew—perhaps her intention to draw Qin Yue onto the path of cultivation had been guessed. Yin Weiyin’s heart gave a little jolt. The chrysanthemum tea had been brewed already—could there be some place in her he had yet to exploit?

A leopard cannot change its spots; this was simply how Chen Yi did things. When he set his mind on being good to a woman, he always made one feel that such unsolicited attentiveness must surely hide some ulterior motive.

Chen Yi caught the flicker of hesitation in the female crown’s eyes and could not help thinking, was his reputation really that bad?

After a moment’s thought, Chen Yi hooked his lips slightly and said with a smile, "Rest easy; I won’t be brewing tea tonight."

Yin Weiyin lifted her gaze at once, a faint incredulous light passing through her eyes. Since he had said so, then his coming tonight was certainly not to settle accounts, but rather... because he had missed her.

A very faint curve appeared at her cool lips and vanished at once.

Yin Weiyin’s smile, when it appeared thus, was always arresting, with a charm as fleeting as dew, as lightning. Seeing that she no longer looked aggrieved, Chen Yi’s own mood steadied somewhat. He took up the snow fungus soup and handed it to her. "Try it? It’s so late—you must be hungry."

"I have fasted for many years. My lord, do you not know this?" the female crown said lightly, yet she did not truly refuse.

Chen Yi raised a brow slightly. Of all those who knew Great Yin’s fasting practices, none more than he. This Great Yin, give it a little color and it would set up a whole dye house; but he need not quibble with her—she had always been this way.

Thinking thus, Chen Yi drew the chair a bit closer with one hand, then dipped the spoon into the thick snow fungus soup and said, "This is the taste of the Capital City—rarely found in the Southern Border. Won’t you try it? I’ll feed you."

Yin Weiyin blinked, then closed her eyes, spring light spilling for an instant, as she teased, "How rare, that you would attend upon someone."

"Heh." Chen Yi let out a cold laugh.

If it had been Yin Tingxue, upon hearing that cold laugh she would have immediately drawn closer; even if she did not offer him a smile, she would go along with his mood and play with him. Yet Yin Weiyin was, after all, Yin Weiyin. She sat there with tranquil composure, letting Chen Yi bring the spoon to her.

Chen Yi did not argue with her, merely held the porcelain spoon, brimming with lustrous soup, steady at her lips.

Yin Weiyin’s lashes trembled lightly; in the end she lowered her gaze and, following his hand, gently took the rim of the spoon between her lips.

The mild, clear sweetness slowly unfurled in her mouth, bearing the soft, glutinous texture unique to snow fungus and a trace of rock sugar’s sweetness, perfectly measured—not cloying, not dry. It was exactly the taste she remembered from many years ago in the Capital City, when she had first tasted it. In those days, the two of them had yet to know the roughness of the road ahead, thinking only that she was destined for the furnace, for the place of concubine...

One spoonful, then another.

His movements were not particularly gentle, yet they were exceedingly steady; his rhythm neither hurried nor slow. She too was quiet, obediently accepting his feeding, speaking no more. Only the faint clink of porcelain spoon against bowl rim from time to time, and their shallow breaths, intertwined in the stillness of the room.

The candle flame gave a soft crackle, lengthening the shadows of the two on the wall, pressed close together.

The heaviness that had weighed on her heart from Chen Yi’s wariness, the subtle pettiness that had arisen over Qin Yue, all melted away during this quiet feeding.

All around, the world was utterly silent; only his breath lay so near at hand.

It felt as though, turning back, yesterday was still yesterday.

The bowl of snow fungus soup, in such stillness, gradually emptied.

Chen Yi brought the last spoonful to her lips, then set down the empty bowl and spoon with a crisp, light clink.

Yin Weiyin instinctively lifted her eyes and met his gaze. There seemed to be a thread of the faintest smile in his eyes, as if asking, "Does it still suit your taste?"

She quickly averted her gaze, feeling that the last mouthful of soup she had just swallowed had suddenly grown sweeter, sinking straight into the depths of her Heart Lake, rippling outward in unspeakable, delicate waves.

"...Passable," she heard her own cool voice say.

Only the faint flush at the tips of her ears betrayed a trace of her secret.