My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Yin Tingxue spent the time of about one or two incense sticks reading through the mental method once, just as she was about to put the book down, Zhou Yitang instructed, "Read it again."

The young girl pressed her lips together and begrudgingly read it once more.

Half an hour passed, her mouth had grown tired. She cautiously glanced at the one-armed woman.

"I've finished reading."

The latter had already settled down beside her, speaking indifferently, "Recite it then."

Yin Tingxue felt utterly bereft of tears.

Helplessly, she stammered as she began to recite the mental method, which was a hefty three to four thousand words.

Yin Tingxue was accustomed to reciting Buddhist Scriptures. After over an hour, she finally managed to get through it. Exhausted, she could barely catch her breath before hearing the soft tapping of fingers on a teacup.

The one-armed woman gestured for her to prepare the tea.

Feeling resentful, Yin Tingxue gave her a glance, took a deep breath, and ultimately rose to prepare the tea.

The tea soup boiled, while the fine rain outside continued, an ethereal deep green color shimmering. Zhou Yitang held the teacup gently, savoring the tea, as Yin Tingxue looked on expectantly.

"Is it good, Master Zhou?" Yin Tingxue asked with some hope; Chen Yi would often compliment the tea as delicious.

"Not good."

"...Then why did you drink two extra sips? Surely, it's still good, isn't it?" The little fox-like tone carried a hint of suggestion.

Zhou Yitang replied bluntly, "If I didn't drink two extra sips, how would I know how bad it is?"

Yin Tingxue's face sank completely with bitterness.

The one-armed woman slowly finished the tea in her hand, not sparing her a glance, eyes fixed forward, and said matter-of-factly:

"This counts as tempering your disposition."

Yin Tingxue darted her eyes back and forth; Zhou Yitang could've chosen not to comment further, but once she did, it only made Yin Tingxue feel slightly aggrieved. Dissatisfied, she objected:

"Why don't you temper his disposition then?"

Zhou Yitang said nothing.

"He needs tempering too," Yin Tingxue muttered softly.

Zhou Yitang cast her a sidelong glance and then asked:

"Is it easier to bully you or him?"

"I..." Yin Tingxue was at a loss.

"So, you pick the softer persimmon to squeeze," the one-armed woman responded as if it were the most natural thing.

The girl listened, feeling it almost made sense and instinctively nodded her head, but as her thoughts turned, she suddenly felt—wait, no, why were both Master Zhou and Chen Yi the same, unable to bully each other but choosing to pick on her instead?

Yin Tingxue had always hated being bullied, especially by Chen Yi. His seemingly gentle patience was actually born of her helpless compliance. If resistance worked, she would've fought back long ago—she had tried, yet resistance had only earned even harsher suppression and repeated intimidation. Now, she had learned to obey.

She thought of the tally marks in the bedroom; in recent days, she had been counting and completed one "正" character.

As long as she didn't anger him and managed to please him, just twenty-five more sessions—or five more "正" characters—and she wouldn't need to have children this year.

But during these few days of her period, and the days right after her period… highly fertile days.

Just thinking about it made her fearful. She pondered that she'd better take advantage of these period days to please him more.

She swung her legs, lightly tapping the teacup, seemingly lost in thought.

Zhou Yitang still didn't look at her, instead steadily sipping her tea, fully unaware of Yin Tingxue's scheming. Within the Taoist traditions, there were indeed techniques to read minds, but to employ them with such fanfare for a mere girl would hardly be dignified.

"Master Zhou..."

Yin Tingxue cupped her face, watching her, cautiously probing.

Zhou Yitang did not shift her gaze, but responded lightly, "Mm."

"Do you know… how to make him happy?" Yin Tingxue asked softly.

"I don't concern myself with such matters."

"So, you do know, don't you?"

"I don't know."

Yin Tingxue fell silent, realizing Zhou Yitang didn't wish to elaborate. She shouldn't press further, but aside from Zhou Yitang, no one else could rescue her now.

Glancing askance, Zhou Yitang gave her one look, and whatever might have been brewing in Yin Tingxue's mind vanished instantly, her guilty conscience causing her to shrink back timidly.

The one-armed woman tapped on the teacup gently, perhaps ultimately feeling sympathetic, and after some thought said, "Didn't he tell you himself?"

Yin Tingxue nodded and replied, "He said me getting jealous would make him happy."

However, she understood clearly, her jealousy was never the kind of jealousy Chen Yi wanted.

Looking at Zhou Yitang, a thought crossed her mind. With a cheerful smile, she asked:

"Master Zhou, can you teach me how to act jealous?"

"Oh? When have I ever acted jealous?"

Zhou Yitang let out a cold laugh.

"Whoever he wants to be with, he can—it has nothing to do with me."

Yin Tingxue excitedly exclaimed, "Yes, yes, that's it!"

Zhou Yitang took a deep breath, forcing down the impulse to smack her on the head.

Yin Tingxue noticed and realized her excitement was inappropriate. Unsure whether to apologize, she instead fell silent, placing her hands on her knees, sitting properly.

Her gaze wandered towards the continuously falling drizzle. This early winter rain—it was truly cold.

"You've grown bolder."

A voice came from beside her.

Yin Tingxue paused for a moment, pointed at herself and asked, "Me?"

"You're less afraid of him now, aren't you?" the one-armed woman questioned.

Sitting in the wooden chair in the hall, Yin Tingxue appeared lost. The sound of the rain was so loud, so vivid—it was unlike snow. Snow, even when it fell, was silent. She stared for quite a while before responding:

"I'm still afraid."

To say she wasn't afraid of him would be far too difficult. She had feared him for so long, deeply ingrained in her very bones. She doubted this lifetime—or even the next—would ever let her escape that fear.

"As afraid as before?"

"...It seems," Yin Tingxue thought for a moment before replying, "still the same."

The one-armed woman's face rarely showed confusion.

Gazing at the fine rain outside, Yin Tingxue herself wasn't entirely sure. To say she had grown bolder wasn't wrong—over these days, she indeed felt braver, especially since they had become lovers. Chen Yi treated her better and better. But being brave didn't mean she no longer feared him.