My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 676 - 444: Finally Meeting Again (Two in One)_2

This night, Yin Weiyin found herself not wanting Min Ning to die just yet.

Even if two Lu Yings had to die, not a single Min Ning should die—not tonight. Yin Weiyin couldn't help but think so, her thoughts flying rapidly, drifting far like sparks from the fire, growing ever distant, glowing faintly like a Kongming Lantern. Then suddenly, it flickered again in the emptiness of her gaze; just as abruptly as the flame shifted, her thoughts followed. She wondered, how many Min Nings could a single Yin Weiyin be worth?

Yin Weiyin felt a sudden pang of insecurity—a certain vanity she couldn't quite push away. Did he truly care about her? The sparks flickered yet again, winking in and out as if teasing her, tugging gently at her heartstrings. Surely, one couldn't deny it—he really did seem to care. Evidence abounded too excessively to ignore: he'd given her a flower, then a hairpin. Neither had ever been gifted to Min Ning. By that reckoning, logically, one Yin Weiyin should be worth at least two Min Nings.

The night lay steeped in silence, her thoughts equally quiet. At that moment, Min Ning rose and went off to practice her swordwork. Yin Weiyin turned her head to watch him for a while... Min Ning, it seemed, was avoiding her sharpness.

And yet, pondering anew, Yin Weiyin thought: Min Ning wielded nothing in his hands. Surely, one Yin Weiyin was worth countless Min Nings.

Yin Weiyin sighed lightly, the corners of her lips curling into a smile as they caught the gleam of the firelight. The night hung upon the world as heavily as water, and her radiance shimmered subtly across its still surface, limpid as rippling waves.

The night deepened further, mountain forests swallowed by an intense pitch-black darkness, faint points of light scattered across distant horizons barely visible. Suddenly, a streak of lightning split through, striking explosively to illuminate a brief whiteness.

Yin Weiyin turned her gaze toward the sound, almost certain she'd glimpsed a shadowed figure stirring.

From afar came the faint echoes of blades clashing and swords whispering.

Min Ning stopped mid-swing, tilting his ear to listen, yet no sound reached him clearly. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he brushed aside a few tree branches and stepped forward carefully. "The sound of wind and the cries of cranes"—an ever-reliable weapon of defense for wanderers of Jianghu.

The silence between the trees was all-encompassing; only the faint tumble of leaves broke the stillness. Whatever unspoken fear hung in the air reverberated faintly within the empty valley. Min Ning's eyebrows furrowed tightly.

Yin Weiyin rose as well, her voice cutting through the quiet:

"Shall we take a look?"

Min Ning nodded faintly, sweeping his gaze around before replying:

"You check the slope on that side; I'll check this side. If anything happens, call out immediately."

Yin Weiyin voiced no objection, forming a hand seal with one hand and clutching her Peach Wood Sword with the other. She strode off.

Shadow and foliage extended eerie limbs as Yin Weiyin parted the half-height clusters of shrubs, pushing deeper, where faint glimmers appeared to outline a human figure. Upon closer inspection, it was only shadowplaying along the trunks.

The cool wind brushed past her neck, prompting Yin Weiyin to draw a breath, the chill seeping all the way into her lungs.

Straining her ears further, she noticed the clashes and flashes of swords and blades had long since faded.

"Are we deceiving ourselves here?"

Yin Weiyin muttered under her breath, returning the sword to its sheath.

"Doesn't seem so." Just then, a familiar voice reached her ears. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Yin Weiyin's breath abruptly hitched.

She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. In that split instant, her thoughts spiraled out of control yet froze simultaneously; her heart stalled only to leap back with a flurry afterward.

She steadied her breathing, refusing to glance behind as she spoke:

"Looks like I've stumbled into ghosts—hallucinations, perhaps."

After saying this, she turned casually, only to catch a faint whiff of blood lingering on him.

Among the shadowed underbrush stood Chen Yi, smiling faintly at her, his voice soft: "A Taoist shouldn't fear ghosts, right?"

"That may be true, but there are certain ghosts—men fear them not, yet women do."

"What kind of ghost?"

Yin Weiyin chuckled lightly and replied, "Lust ghosts."

The night breeze caressed their faces, while the mountain forests framed their surroundings with blurred contours. The female crown's subtly curved lips carried a breathtakingly brilliant expression—but mere days apart had been enough to make Chen Yi utterly enchanted anew.

He unconsciously leaned forward, as though to kiss her.

Yet, a sharp premonition flashed suddenly through his mind. Chen Yi stopped abruptly, turning his head—and caught sight of an indistinct figure holding a sword, gazing off toward another direction. They hadn't yet turned their eyes toward them.

Chen Yi's pupils tightened, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.

Yin Weiyin knew exactly who he had seen. Thoughts swirling wildly, she reached out before he could act, grabbing hold of his sleeve.

Facing him, tension threading her tone, she said hastily, "Let me speak first."

Chen Yi had no idea what she intended; calming himself, he sensed something amiss and asked, "Is it real or fake?"

Yin Weiyin dared not deceive him; she confessed, "Real..."

"Then why are you pulling me back?"

Yin Weiyin's thoughts ricocheted endlessly within. She did not want Chen Yi and Min Ning to meet—not after witnessing Min Ning's prowess, making her skittish with dread. But what could she possibly do? Could she truly hold Chen Yi back?

Chen Yi had long lost count of how many days—or moons—had passed since he'd last seen Min Ning. He only knew it had been far longer than his time apart from Yin Weiyin.

Still, he forced himself to quiet his heart's hunger.

Yin Weiyin didn't act aimlessly—if she blocked Chen Yi's path now, there had to be a reason. Observing quietly, Min Ning stood ahead, sword in hand, its momentum brimming with intensity.

Perhaps… she feared he would disrupt Min Ning's insight during her sword practice?

Chen Yi's steps dug slightly into the muddy ground.

Yin Weiyin's voice—a sharp warning—cut in: "Even if you two meet, don't… don't interfere with her. Nor dwell too much on the past. Keep things brief. And as for romantic words—sentimental whispers—those had better be spared altogether."

"...Why?" Chen Yi looked utterly baffled.

"Because I want to say them first."

Yin Weiyin leaned a step closer, softening her voice to say:

"Please… don't keep making me jealous."

Chen Yi froze momentarily before stifling a laugh—the female crown's few short sentences were far too endearing.

Seeing him nod subtly, Yin Weiyin finally let go of his sleeve.

Chen Yi darted swiftly beyond the shadows and foliage, setting branches swaying noisily in his wake.

Rustle-rustle.

A sound drifted faintly across the distance. Min Ning spun around instantly, her eyes ablaze—but seeing who it was, she stopped dead.

The night grew heavier with silence, leaves weaving faint halos of light around them, soft glimmers spilling forth as if carried from distant sparks—slowly encircling blurred shapes, enclosing the eerie boundary of presence they shared. Standing within that dim luminescence, Chen Yi watched her come to a halt; likewise, Min Ning's gaze landed on him as the world froze utterly still around them.

In the silent chaos of rekindled memories, amidst faint echoes of crackling sparks, the campfire dimmed until extinguished. As it went out, she untied her gourd, mimicking the motion of drinking, and offered the first words of their reunion:

"Hey, want a drink?"

Before the glow fully faded, Chen Yi saw Min Ning, and Min Ning saw Chen Yi.

It had been almost a year of separation, and in this singular moment, they met again.

......

None disturbed Lu Ying's sleep. Instead, on a slightly flatter patch of the mountainside, a campfire was lit.

Sparks floated upward, wavering in the fire's warmth. Chen Yi and Min Ning sat facing one another.

The female crown, however, sat silently at Chen Yi's side, leaning ever so slightly close, as if ensuring that from Min Ning's perspective, this scene appeared akin to a husband and wife seated side by side within their household hall.

Min Ning, however, paid it no attention. She poured an aromatic wine from her flask, its rich fragrance wafting heavily.

Pushing the bowl toward him as she grinned, Min Ning said, "Jian Nan Chun—wine of the Shu lands."

Chen Yi wasn't one to understand wines, but it sounded clearly extravagant. Taking the bowl, he remarked, "Seems like it's high-quality."

The sweet, full-bodied notes carried hints of fruit. Min Ning poured another bowl for the female crown, continuing: "If it weren't excellent, I wouldn't keep it at my waist. As Su Shi once wrote: 'One hundred coins for a silent jug, its faint blur sweet as dew, its clarity like cream.'"

Chen Yi, hearing this poetic line, marveled inwardly at her journey through Jianghu—an experience clearly not of the ordinary sort; she even quoted classical works now. He asked, "You learned that from a book?"

"No, overheard someone bragging," Min Ning replied with a lighthearted laugh.

The mirth swayed her figure slightly, as though the fullness of her drink threatened to spill. Seeing this, she bent her head to slurp it back deftly.

Chen Yi watched her, emotions stirring distantly. When they had parted, she was poor with alcohol, but half a year away had turned her into a capable drinker—a borderline wine lover.

Min Ning glanced up, taking note of the faintly visible traces of blood clinging to him and remarked, "Just now, you've killed someone, haven't you?"

Chen Yi flicked at his garments casually, answering, "Yes, slaughtered a group of deceitful Daoists—it was only twenty or so."

That group of Daoists had spoken of three individuals they'd aimed to kill. Hearing the first two names briefly unsettled him, but the third unveiled immediate understanding.

If not his Great Yin, then who?

The female crown tilted her head slightly to the side; compared to Chen Yi's twenty slain Daoists, the countless ghosts she'd felled in her dreams outnumbered his tally by far.

Yet, boasting felt unnecessary. Yin Weiyin quietly raised her bowl, savoring the wine alone, a private toast whispered only to the moon above.

Reuniting at long last—she understood enough to let them have their moment, lingering softly between words. So long as their feelings didn't run too deep, she could endure.

This position—the kind a matriarch might hold—had her granting such benevolence, tolerance woven thick with elder dignity.

Chen Yi lowered his head, bringing the wine to his lips. Its sweetness brushed his tongue, sliding warmly down his throat, but his gaze remained fixed upon Min Ning alone.

The yearning sharpened suddenly—so long without sight of her—his chest flooded with soft ache, murmuring unconsciously:

"I… missed you."

Min Ning's heart faltered, skipping painfully—heat spreading faintly to her cheeks. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, before reopening them to reply:

"Then I've won."

"Won?"

"I've only thought of you occasionally."