My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Here is the requested translation:

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The red-clad woman’s eyes briefly grew sore; she slowly bowed and smiled sweetly:

"Thank you, Prince."

If she truly bore a child, Qin Qingluo would essentially be acknowledging a bastard. This would undoubtedly disgrace her ancestral lineage, for Qin Qingluo could entirely insist the child bear the surname Zhu.

Yet, Qin Qingluo’s decision—whatever the hidden motivations—on the surface, meant that any such child would inevitably be regarded as a royal descendant, a prince or princess.

As those words of gratitude fell, Zhu E noticed that Qin Qingluo’s complexion grew even paler, and her heart ached.

She had long cared for her niece, and the blood covenant between them made them virtually connected in spirit. Only she truly understood the depths of Qin Qingluo’s suffering over the past couple of days.

Despite sudden upheavals and the collapse of her martial resolve, as soon as she returned, she had to reorganize the troops and enforce strict discipline, holding herself together to maintain the outward appearance befitting a prince. The soldiers believed she remained as steadfast as ever, unmoved even if a mountain crumbled before her—for only in this way could she stabilize their morale.

"Prince, I shouldn’t..." Zhu E began, before guilt caused her words to falter.

She should not have mentioned this matter, but in her fervor to track down the Bright Venerable, she had momentarily forgotten Qin Qingluo’s feelings.

"There’s no need to apologize... Aunt Zhu," Qin Qingluo lowered her face slightly, her gaze falling emptily, "In the end, it’s my skills that fall short."