My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Chapter 1239: Chapter 673: Entering the Family Register

At dawn, a soft halo of light filtered through the fine lattice of the window, lazily spilling into the bedchamber, dispersing the night’s gloom; even the tiniest motes of dust hung thick in the air, each seeming to bear its own weight.

Qin Qingluo’s tall, athletic form was mostly buried amidst the tangled brocade quilts and embroidered cushions, only her sharply defined shoulders and a solid stretch of arm exposed, her long black hair spread out, almost merging with the dark bedding beneath.

A few strands at the tips were damp with sweat, clinging to the sweaty side of her neck and along her cheek, lending her usually imposing face an exceedingly rare touch of languor.

Last night, they had first tangled and tested each other in Hanhai Building, their breaths overlapping, sword and palm exchanging, and though no True Power had been used, it had drained their minds even more than real blades and spears could.

After that they shifted the battlefield here; no one knew who had first reached for whom, but that unsated restlessness once more flared into flame. Chen Yi could no longer restrain himself; they overturned cloud and rain several more times. Even now, there still seemed to linger a faint, sultry air in the room—worthy opponents, evenly matched talents—until the night grew deepest and heavier before they finally collapsed, exhausted, into each other’s arms and slept.

Chen Yi had long since woken. Lying on his side, propping his head with one hand, he studied Qin Qingluo, who was still sleeping beside him.

The light traced her outline, from her full forehead, to her high, straight nose bridge, down to those lips that were usually pressed in a thin line but now had loosened slightly, leaving a faint gap.

Scenes from the night before flickered across his mind in an instant: the way that long leg—capable of a perfect split—had been lifted and braced high upon his shoulder, how powerful it was; how sweat had slid along the rise and fall of her peaks, slipping into the deeper valley below; even the stretch of her underarm, lines taut and clear from the force of her movements, was steeped in that heavy, blazing scent of her body.

Perhaps it was the long drought finally meeting sweet rain after too long a suppression, so that once the sluice was opened it became a flood; or perhaps, after this recent leap in his Martial Arts Cultivation, his physique had grown stronger—Chen Yi increasingly felt that this already wild, unbroken, rouge-red mare had grown even more unrestrained and hard to control than before, so that each clash demanded his full strength.

He drew in a shallow breath; the air was still saturated with Qin Qingluo’s unique scent—thick, aggressively dominant, as if she herself, in every respect, was a singular existence among women.

Fortunately, his Hou Kang Sword had, in the end, proved superior by half a move, and he had ultimately pinned down and broken this raging warhorse, tamed her to his will—though it had taken some effort, the satisfaction was wholly unrestrained.

As he mused, those closed serpent eyes suddenly snapped open, with scarcely any of the haze of just waking, shockingly clear and keen.

She immediately sensed Chen Yi’s scrutinizing gaze; her head tilted slightly, and those eyes, which had already regained their habitual authority, swept over him with a cold, condescending glance as she asked, her just-woken voice rough-edged, "What are you looking at?"

She had instantly caught Chen Yi’s appraising gaze, yet she neither dodged nor shied away, merely met his stare with that same lofty, disdainful look, a touch of sleepy languor in her eyes, but far more of her usual imperiousness.

Chen Yi had always loathed women looking down at him from on high like this, all the more so after such intimacy.

A thought stirred in his heart, though his face broke into an innocently pleasant smile. One hand, quite naturally, reached toward the soft swell at her chest, as if merely to brush aside the hair sticking there—yet equally as if harboring other intentions.

But his fingers had scarcely begun to move when Qin Qingluo, eyes sharp and hands faster, reacted almost by instinct: her wrist turned, and her five fingers clamped around his wrist like an iron vise, the force so great that he was instantly rendered motionless.

"Did We permit you to move?" She arched a brow, a dangerous glint flashing in those serpent eyes.

Chen Yi also raised an eyebrow. His earlier compliance and deference had not been entirely ulterior, yet there had been some calculation there; after all, it had been many years since he’d last seen this Princess, and he did wish to rekindle the old flame, thus he had lowered his posture more than a little.

Only, in his bones he was still who he was; he could bend a little to the occasion, but he had no wish to remain beneath another’s heel, not even under this Princess Qin Qingluo.

The Princess turned her head toward the morning light streaming in through the lattice, her eyes narrowing slightly, her state of mind, for once, rare and tranquil.

Much like Chen Yi, the images of last night’s events rose in her mind, though from an inverted angle.

Thinking of this, she once more sensed that restless spark in Chen Yi’s heart; the corner of her mouth curled in a derisive smile. This one did not lack the ambition of a wolf, yet the scope of his scheming was pathetically small. Rather than suppressing him at every turn, it would be better to occasionally let him overstep, to climb up onto her face, as it were.

Perhaps Min Ning’s sudden visit had stirred a faint sense of crisis in this Princess’s heart; after last night, the wariness she harbored toward Chen Yi had lessened by quite a bit, silently crossing that inner threshold.

And this was, in all these years between them, the first time their union of flesh and desire had not been born of forcing.

Yet before Qin Qingluo’s emotions could fully rise into reflection, Chen Yi had already moved to spoil the mood.

His hand slipped soundlessly toward Qin Qingluo’s waist. The Princess narrowed her eyes, intending to turn a blind eye, to allow him to hold her. She had not expected that his fingers would suddenly tighten, and that he would actually flip her entire body over.

It struck just as her defenses had abruptly been lowered; the tall, statuesque woman was caught off guard, and at that instant, Chen Yi had already leaned in from behind, pressing a hard kiss to the side of her neck.

"Prince, bear with it a moment—your subordinate is about to offend again."

Qin Qingluo’s brows knit in anger, but before long, they gradually eased; her rage slowly unraveled...

.........

Last night had already been a release; the morning ambush, though sudden, at most counted as a brief scuffle.

Qin Qingluo panted for breath, a flush of lingering pleasure on her face, her body faintly trembling. Her back was broad and firm, and the flatbread pressed out beneath her was pleasingly round.

Chen Yi sprawled over her tall body, breathing in the scent at the tips of her hair.

Chen Yi’s sudden offense was something that, even recalling later, would still make one furious. Yin Tingxue said coldly:

"I’d meant to welcome you in with full ceremony, but thinking on it now, forget it. The formalities will be kept simple, and the betrothal gifts cut in half."

Chen Yi didn’t care about these empty rites. His whole body lay heavily on Yin Tingxue’s broad back, his face buried in her hair, warm and damp with heat and sweat.

Yin Tingxue, face down, sank into the soft bedding. After that abrupt bout of entanglement just now, their posture was somewhat like two frogs clinging together, which made this Princess, who had always occupied the upper hand, feel exceedingly awkward.

To Chen Yi, her cold sneers might as well not exist. Yin Tingxue twisted her shoulders and back, trying to throw him off, and muttered, muffled, "Get off."

Chen Yi not only didn’t get off, he pressed down even tighter, his arms circling her sweat-damp waist, even deliberately blowing a warm breath against the sensitive lobe of her ear.

Yin Tingxue shuddered violently; the skin along her neck broke out in goosebumps. Shame and anger tangled unspeakably in her chest. Gathering what remained of her strength, her waist and back suddenly heaved with force, trying to shake off the rascal on top of her.

But it was as if Chen Yi had long anticipated it; his limbs locked like chains, clinging fast to her, refusing to be thrown off.

Yin Tingxue struggled in vain a few times. In the end, the weakness that came after her strength was spent took over, and she could only give up helplessly. Panting, she asked, "What exactly do you want?"

She even began to suspect that Chen Yi had tasted the sweetness and wanted more. Thinking of last night—though she had maintained a strong, leading stance, in truth by the end she had been a spent crossbow, relying solely on sheer will not to show weakness—if they went another round, she feared she would be utterly routed.

Yet Chen Yi shook his head, his cheek rubbing against her slightly sweaty spine. "I don’t want that." He paused, seeming to weigh his words, then said slowly, "Qingluo, enter my family register."

Yin Tingxue faltered slightly, as if unused to Chen Yi calling her by name so directly.

In the Capital City, any family of some standing had a family register; naturally Chen Yi had compiled one as well. Long ago, Yin Weiyin and Yin Tingxue’s names had been written into it—at first as concubines, later changed by him to wives.

But since he had left the Capital City for so long, that family register had long been put away, left to gather dust in some tiny corner.

At this moment, though, Chen Yi felt it finally had a use again.

He slowly voiced this request that bordered on presumptuous, his heartbeat steady, but his body held in a state of high alert.

He could clearly sense the instant rigidity of the delicate body beneath him. For a woman of Yin Tingxue’s temperament and status, how utterly overstepping this was.

He even adjusted his breathing in secret; Hou Kang Sword silently condensed, its tip seemingly, faintly, pressing against the unguarded vital point at her waist and back, as if the moment she flew into a rage and struck, she would face a thunderous blow.

"Very well, I’ll agree."

What Chen Yi hadn’t expected at all was that Yin Tingxue only fell silent for a brief moment. The taut muscles along her spine even loosened slightly, and then a response came—extremely short, so flat it was hard to read any emotion in it.

So decisive that... even Chen Yi was caught off guard.

Yin Tingxue, however, turned her face to the side, avoiding his gaze, and sneered, "Since you insist on pestering like this, I’ll enter your family register under a false name, and we’ll call this matter settled."

"Then what about Yue’er?" Chen Yi paused, then said, "Her name should be written there too. That’s her home as well."

"Is it only a home if it has you, this wild father, in it?"

Yin Tingxue let out a derisive laugh, the flush on her face indistinguishable between anger and afterglow.

Chen Yi frowned and gave her a twist.

The tall woman let out a long, low sound that was nothing like the voice of a Non-royal Prince who terrified the court. Her face was already blazing with fury; she wanted to throw Chen Yi off, yet he still pinned her down firmly.

"...Do as you please, but her surname must remain Qin."

After a long while, this female Prince responded slowly,

"As for you, you will also be entered into the Qin Family’s ancestral register in the future."

With that, she no longer paid Chen Yi any mind, burying her face back into the soft pillow, as though what she had just agreed to was nothing more than a trivial, insignificant matter.