My Arch-Nemesis is the R-Rated Male Lead - Chapter 2

“Rong’er, come back.” Seeing his daughter looking ready to murder Zhou Li, Lu’s father pulled her back and whispered, “Did you buy that painting just now?”

“I’d rather die than buy a portrait of Zhou Li!” Lu Rong had already killed him countless times in her mind and vowed to be his mortal enemy for two lifetimes.

“Did you paint it yourself?” her father asked tentatively.

Lu Rong snapped to attention. “How could that be! Qiu Ling bought it from outside and asked me to polish it. If you don’t believe me, just ask Qiu Ling.”

Qiu Ling was her childhood playmate who often went down the mountain to wander the mortal world, bringing back all sorts of curiosities. She had also told Lu Rong that Luo City, famous for its handsome men, would be hosting a spring banquet in three days.

“Then I’ll ask her now.”

Seeing that her father actually intended to ask, Lu Rong sniffled pitifully. “Father, you just don’t believe me. You’re always defending Zhou Li.”

Upon hearing this, Lu Wen quickly put away his jade pendant and coaxed her, “I won’t ask anymore. Why are you always at odds with Li’er? You two grew up together as childhood sweethearts.”

“He and I aren’t childhood sweethearts! We’re mortal enemies!” Lu Rong insisted again, tugging her father’s sleeve. “Father, can’t you help me get that painting back?”

“Ha, dream on.” Her father’s expression flipped in an instant. “That painting is so…”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Lu Rong thought to herself, This one’s only half-naked, still wearing clothes above and below. My room’s full of portraits with no clothes at all.

Besides, this was the first time she had ever used Zhou Li as a reference. If the patron’s thirty thousand gold hadn’t been so tempting, she’d never have let his face stay in her mind for seven whole days.

And now, not only had she painted it, but she’d ended up with nothing, the painting confiscated by Zhou Li. She’d lost both the money and the effort.

That hateful Zhou Li.

The more Lu Rong thought about it, the more her teeth itched; she wished she could bite Zhou Li a few times just to vent her anger.

For the sake of the painting, Lu Rong softened her voice and pleaded, “Please, Father, look! I ran all this way just to bring you loquats.”

“Loquats?” Lu Wen’s voice shot up several pitches. “Did you pick them from the Begonia Garden?”

“Yes, yes, from all this way.” Lu Rong obediently presented the fresh loquats to him. “So… can you help me get the painting back?”

Father Lu glared, beard bristling. “Lu Rong! Those are spiritual plants I’ve been cultivating for a hundred years! Did you pick them all?”

Sensing danger, Lu Rong quickly shoved the bag of loquats into his hands and forced a guilty smile. “Not all of them. Father, I still have things to do. I’m leaving now!”

She ran off at lightning speed. Lu Wen rushed to check his spiritual plants. Sure enough, barely any were left!

“Lu Rong! If you don’t advance your cultivation soon, I’ll throw you into the Eighteenth Trial Level!”

Hearing her father’s furious roar, Lu Rong didn’t look back and shouted, “Got it, Father! I’ll work hard!”

Father Lu sighed helplessly, troubled over his daughter. He always said she hadn’t made any progress, yet she could slip through every barrier in the Xuan Yang Sect with ease. The spiritual plant was protected by a barrier no outsider could breach, yet even that couldn’t keep his daughter out.

But saying she had made progress wasn’t right either; her cultivation hadn’t improved in ten years. Some people truly blossom late, yes… but she had clearly abandoned her priorities for play.

He looked at the loquats in his hand; they really were fresh. “This child…”

Lu Rong hurried back to her residence, shutting the door to block her maid Xue’er’s worried look.

Sitting on the carpeted floor, she took out her work jade token and sent a message to her wealthy patron.

Grass Color: Sorry, something unexpected happened. The painting was stolen by a big, bad guy. Do you want a refund, or should I paint a new one?

Wealthy Patron: Waaaaah, what happened? Who stole my painting?

Wealthy Patron: How long will it take to redraw?

Grass Color: Five days at most. I’ll throw in a small illustration as a bonus.

Wealthy Patron: Sure, sure! I can wait! It’s just… about the small illustration…

Grass Color: Hmm?

Wealthy Patron: Can you draw him without clothes? (Shy)

Lu Rong: “…” I do NOT want to draw my sworn enemy’s nude portrait!

Wealthy Patron: I can pay an extra 10,000 gold.

Lu Rong thought about it. Since the problem started on her end, she couldn’t reject the request.

Grass Color: Sure, sweetheart. No need to add money. You’ll just have to wait a few more days, sorry.

For the sake of her reputation in the industry, she could let the image of Zhou Li without clothes stay in her mind for at most three days.

No—one day at most!

After asking a few simple questions about the patron’s requirements for the small illustration, Lu Rong finally put the jade token away.

She flopped onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling. She felt that drawing a piece that long would really blind her. The best solution was still to get the picture back and redo a small one.

Lu Rong’s brain was mush—she couldn’t think at all. Her mind simply crashed, and the moment she closed her eyes, she fell asleep.

The invisible gaze enveloping the entire room suddenly withdrew.

Zhou Li opened his eyes and looked at the scroll he had completely unfurled.

The face in the painting resembled his own seven or eight parts, though the body was somewhat off. His gaze slipped down from the neck covered in hickeys. The clothes, half-hanging from the crook of his arm with the collar open, were thin as mist, half-revealing the lines of the abdomen. A bead of sweat slid down from his V-line, seemingly about to disappear into a place even more hidden.

He glanced toward the clothing at the lower half, and for some reason, Lu Rong’s earlier words surfaced in his mind. He subconsciously turned his eyes away and looked directly at the signature.

The bright red square seal bore the words “Grass Color.”

“Grass Color?” He stood and moved closer. His fingertip brushed the scroll, stirring up a trace of lingering aura.

Aside from the scent of ink, there was also a faint fragrance of fruit wood.

He lifted his fingertips to his nose, as if catching yet another scent.

Meanwhile, fast asleep, Lu Rong scratched the hair she hadn’t washed in three days, stuck her butt up, and kept right on sleeping.

Zhou Li withdrew his hand. In truth, he knew the painting was drawn by Lu Rong.

With an indifferent expression, he put the scroll away, setting it on his desk, his brows faintly drawn together.

If only the woman in his dream were as easy to identify as Lu Rong.

Yet for three nights, his dreams had been filled with those absurd scenes, and he still had no clue.

If it really was a tribulation… then what kind of tribulation?

Zhou Li’s body rippled with vast spiritual energy, his sword intent surging. A sudden afternoon gale swept through the expansive Xuan Yang Sect, blowing down drifting petals that slipped through the half-open window and landed on the person sleeping inside.

Lu Rong had slept so long she couldn’t tell day from night. When she opened her eyes, the room glowed with faint candlelight, and a thin blanket lay over her.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up groggily. “Xue’er?”

“Hey! I’m here!” Xue’er’s voice came from outside. Moments later, she entered with a food box. “Rongrong, you’re finally awake! Hungry?”

“Yeah.” Lu Rong touched her rumbling stomach. “What time is it?”

“It’s already midnight. I thought you’d sleep till morning.” Xue’er set the food box on the round table.

Lu Rong rolled to her feet, still drowsy, and yawned. “I still have things to do tonight.”

“Still staying up late to draw?” Xue’er asked. She had been with Lu Rong for years, obedient and sharp, and knew her mistress had been pulling all-nighters to finish her drawings.

Lu Rong took out her food and gobbled it down.

She had already begun fasting back when she reached mid-Foundation Establishment a few years ago, but she discovered it didn’t stop her cravings. She still had to eat and drink without missing a thing.

“No—first go to my treasure vault and find the Bailidun protective artifact, my father gave me last time, then prepare a box of pastries,” Lu Rong said quickly. Xue’er noted it down and headed to the small treasure vault to look for it.

By the time Lu Rong was almost done eating, Xue’er had returned with the box containing the artifact and the food container.

Lu Rong opened the box, slipped the gold bracelet inlaid with eight differently colored gemstones onto her wrist, grabbed the pastries, and headed out.

She planned to go to Wuhui Ravine, where Zhou Li lived, and find a way to retrieve her painting.

Wuhui Ravine and her own residence, Zhuiyu Pavilion, sat north and south of each other, requiring her to cross the entire Xuan Yang Sect.

But with her current cultivation, she still couldn’t fly on a sword, so every time she had to travel far, she borrowed her father’s mount.

But not tonight. She could only take out her jade token and call upon her rowdy friends.

“Qiu Ling! Emergency!” she shouted into the jade token. It vibrated slightly, projecting a faint silhouette.

“What now?” Qiu Ling was standing in punishment, looking miserable.

“Lend me your mount.” Qiu Ling had her own flying spirit beast.

Lu Rong should have had one too, but her father, afraid she’d run off and cause trouble, never gave her one.

“Qingyu can’t fly—my father took it,” Qiu Ling said helplessly, spreading her hands.

“What happened to you?” Lu Rong asked with concern.

“It’s a long story… Where are you going in the middle of the night?” Qiu Ling asked.

Lu Rong pouted, “My painting was snatched away by that wretched Zhou Li. I’m going to get it back.”

“Venerable Jian steals your things? Here I was thinking he’d actually transcended into a heartless, desireless immortal.” Qiu Ling rubbed her chin. “I’ve got a magic tool that can fly for a bit. I’ll send it to you through the jade token.”

The moment she finished, something materialized in Lu Rong’s hand.

Lu Rong: “???” A… bamboo dragonfly?

Good grief, cultivator Doraemon, is that you?

Still, as long as it could fly, that was all that mattered. She bowed toward Qiu Ling with melodramatic gratitude. “Your great favor leaves me speechless!”

“Go forth, brave warrior.”

With that, the connection ended. Lu Rong held the bamboo dragonfly, channeling spiritual power into it. It instantly grew twice in size, lifted her straight into the air, and shot off toward Wuhui Ravine.

Wuhui Ravine lay in the remotest part of the Xuan Yang Sect, mountains towering on all sides with a torrent rushing through. Zhou Li’s seven-story Wuhui Tower perched at the highest point, overlooking the entire sect, its lamps shining through the night.

Disciples returning late at night, unable to see the road, would feel reassured the moment they spotted the beacon of the Wuhui Tower.

Seeing the Wuhui Tower meant they’d reached a place Venerable Jian could arrive at instantly, undeniably a safe zone.

Even the Zhuiyu Pavilion, the farthest from the Wuhui Tower, could see its beacon.

Tonight, the beacon still shone brightly. Lu Rong headed in that direction, pondering how she might get Zhou Li to return her painting.

But fate had other plans. A sudden gust of wind struck, whipping her bamboo dragonfly into wild spins and forcing her to descend.

Before she could react, an arrogant voice rang out through the darkness, “I am Mo Chou of the Qingfeng Sect, Mo Chou, the Mo Chou who walks with no confidant ahead! I have come to challenge Venerable Jian, who refuses all challenges!”

Lu Rong followed the sound and squinted into the darkness, spotting a graceful young man in white robes framed beneath the moonlight.

No—on second thought, it was just some eccentric teenager who’d wandered over at midnight to embarrass himself.

Who shows up at someone else’s place in the dead of night instead of sleeping, basically begging to get smacked?

But people like this came in endless waves, like rabbits popping out litters one after another.

Perched atop a treetop, Lu Rong glanced at her bracelet. The Bailidun*, as its name implied, allowed her to burrow and flee freely within a hundred miles.

(*TL’s note: 百裏遁(bǎilǐdùn)一Hundred-Li Escape)

She was currently within a hundred miles of the Wuhui Tower. Once Zhou Li came out to fight this person, she could quietly tunnel over to his residence and retrieve her painting.

After all, knowing Zhou Li’s personality, he wouldn’t fuss with her over it once she took it back.

Feeling her plan was perfectly airtight, she suddenly heard the young man’s voice again.

“Who’s spying in the shadows!” A sharp sword aura shot straight toward her brow.

Her pupils shrank; she didn’t even have time to dodge.

Heaven and earth suddenly fell silent. From the darkness came a cold voice, “Get lost.”

There was no sword aura in the surroundings, yet the blade that had stopped inches from her shattered completely. Before the delusional teenager could react, a fierce gust swept him straight out of the Xuan Yang Sect.

The moonlight seemed to dim.

Lu Rong lifted her gaze, stunned, and her eyes landed on Zhou Li, who had appeared at some unknown moment, black hair loose around him.

His clothes were not as tightly fastened as they had been during the day; his collar hung loosely. Lu Rong’s gaze instinctively drifted to his Adam’s apple.

“You—” Zhou Li began, but before he could ask anything, an excited voice burst into his mind:

[Damn, Zhou Li may be hateful, but that Adam’s apple is absolutely perfect for biting during sex. Licking and biting it until the corners of his eyes turn red, he’d definitely go wild aaahhhh!]