Mu Xi jolted awake from her dream with a stifled scream, the sound catching in her throat, morphing into a sharp, ragged gasp.
Her chest heaved as she gulped air, her body drenched in a sheen of sweat—or perhaps it was the chill of fear.
She couldn’t tell.
The room lay cloaked in shadow, save for a faint sliver of dawn creeping through the window, its dim light doing little to soothe the lingering dread that trembled through her.
Rising, she realized her nightgown clung uncomfortably to her skin, soaked through.
With a sigh, she peeled it off, intent on changing into something dry.
As she did, her gaze inadvertently fell to her chest, and she froze.
Was it her imagination, or… had it grown, just a touch?
Her slender hand reached up, fingertips grazing the soft, resilient curve.
It felt fuller, undeniably so, compared to before.
Could it really be the effect of those medicinal baths?
Confusion swirled in her mind, emotions tangling like threads in a storm.
Part of her bristled with humiliation, knowing this was Ye Lan’s doing, a perverse whim to mold her body to their desires.
Yet another part—a whisper from the male soul within her—stirred with an unsettling curiosity.
A strange, unnameable feeling flickered in her chest, neither wholly good nor bad, but undeniably transformative.
By breakfast, Ye Lan arrived in person, an unexpected visitor bearing not the usual saccharine cakes and delicate pastries, but a balanced, wholesome meal.
Golden, crisp whole-grain toast sat beside a perfectly fried sunny-side-up egg, accompanied by a vibrant fruit salad and a steaming glass of milk.
The fresh, inviting aroma cut through the cloying sweetness that usually lingered in the room.
Mu Xi sat at the table, blinking in surprise at the transformed spread before her.
Had the sun risen in the west?
Or had Ye Lan undergone some miraculous change of heart?
She stole a glance at Ye Lan, searching for answers in that refined, enigmatic face, but found only the usual calm—and perhaps a glimmer of anticipation, subtle as a shadow.
She muttered to herself but held her tongue.
Questions were futile here.
In this manor, what she ate, what she did—it was never her choice.
Ye Lan’s will was law, and Mu Xi had learned to abide by it.
Setting down the tray, Ye Lan pulled out a chair and sat across from her, those deep, phoenix-like eyes studying her with keen interest.
“Try it,” she said, her voice low and melodious, laced with a trace of warmth.
“How’s today’s breakfast?”
Mu Xi picked up her fork, spearing a piece of egg.
The white was tender, the yolk rich and runny—delicious, undeniably so.
She ate in silence, her mind racing to decipher what game Ye Lan was playing.
Only when Mu Xi had finished, savoring each deliberate bite, did Ye Lan speak again.
“Starting today, your primary task is to practice singing in the music room. At night, you’ll take a throat lozenge and learn… how to hold yourself properly.”
Mu Xi’s shoulders twitched, her voice soft but wary.
“Why?”
Ye Lan’s lips curved into a cryptic smile.
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“Preparation, of course. Either your voice becomes exquisite enough to captivate the guests, or…”
She paused, the air growing heavy.
“Your body becomes sensitive enough to thrill them.”
A chill seized Mu Xi’s heart, Ye Lan’s words slicing through her like a blade.
Revulsion and defiance surged within her, and she shrank back, as if to escape the weight of that oppressive gaze.
Ye Lan, pleased with her reaction, rose and stepped behind Mu Xi.
Her slender fingers brushed through Mu Xi’s silver-white hair, gentle yet commanding.
“Come with me.”
Mu Xi obeyed, trailing behind with a knot of unease in her chest.
The music room?
What new torment awaited her there?
In a corner of the room, Ye Lan retrieved a small, intricately designed white object from an ornate jewelry box.
It resembled an earbud but gleamed with a futuristic elegance.
“What is it?” Mu Xi asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and caution.
Ye Lan didn’t answer.
Instead, she gestured for Mu Xi to turn around.
Bewildered but compliant, Mu Xi faced away.
A cool sensation grazed her skin as Ye Lan’s fingers lifted the hem of her nightgown.
Then, with a deft movement, the cold object was slipped inside her.
Mu Xi stiffened, a wave of alien sensation radiating from deep within, making her skin prickle.
She spun around, eyes wide with panic, words trapped in her throat as if choked by an invisible hand.
“It’s a state-of-the-art vibrating device. Bluetooth-enabled,” Ye Lan said, her lips curling with a mischievous glint.
“Its range extends far beyond this manor. It has every function you can imagine—vibration patterns, frequencies, intensity—all controlled remotely.”
She paused, her tone turning suggestive.
“Including the power switch.”
Mu Xi’s mind reeled, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a gale.
A vibrating device?
Bluetooth?
Remote control?
What kind of perverse invention was this?
“I might turn it on at any moment,” Ye Lan continued, casually adjusting Mu Xi’s collar as if discussing the weather.
“Be prepared, especially during your singing practice.”
The mention of singing practice sent a shiver from Mu Xi’s toes to her scalp.
Endure that during her lessons?
She instinctively pressed her thighs together, desperate to quell the strange sensation, but it was futile.
The tiny device seemed to have taken root, commanding her nerves with an unyielding grip.
She looked up at Ye Lan, her eyes pleading for mercy, for some reprieve from this twisted arrangement.
But Ye Lan only returned a knowing smile, her gaze resolute and unyielding, cold as winter’s edge.
By noon, Ye Lan led Mu Xi to the music room, where a woman in a violet qipao awaited.
Her posture was regal, the elegant dress accentuating her graceful curves.
Her raven-black hair was swept into an intricate updo, revealing the delicate line of her neck.
At the sound of the door, she turned.
Her face was breathtaking—eyebrows like distant mountains, eyes shimmering like autumn lakes, a refined nose, and lips like cherry blossoms.
Her skin was flawless, her features as finely crafted as a master painting, yet tempered with a fierce, untouchable aura.
She was a snow lotus atop an icy peak, noble and inviolable.
“Mu Xi, this is Teacher Ling Yue,” Ye Lan introduced, her voice cutting through the room’s stillness with a quiet authority.
Mu Xi quickly bowed her head, her voice soft but polite.
“Hello, Teacher Ling Yue.”