Mu Xi treaded as if on thin ice, each note she sang teetering on the edge of a tightrope.
She poured her focus into the practice, all while wrestling to suppress the strange, unbearable thrill pulsing deep within her body.
It was like dancing on the blade of a knife—one misstep, and she’d shatter into a thousand pieces.
Time crawled by, each second stretching into an eternity of torment.
The tingling sensation below grew sharper, threatening to unravel her completely.
She bit her lip hard, clinging to a fragile mask of calm, desperate to keep any errant sound from escaping her throat.
At last, when Ling Yue declared the practice over, Mu Xi collapsed to the floor, her body drained as if her very soul had been wrung out.
She gasped for air, chest heaving.
Her cheeks burned crimson, her gaze glassy, her body soaked in sweat that clung to her like a second skin, leaving her in a disheveled heap.
Ling Yue loomed above, her eyes as cold as ever, though a faint flicker of satisfaction gleamed within them, subtle and fleeting.
Mu Xi had stumbled through today’s session with minor hiccups, but her overall performance was passable—she hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of Ling Yue, at least.
“Practice ends here for today,” Ling Yue said, her voice as crisp and emotionless as frost on a winter morning.
“Remember, you must improve a little each day. If I catch you slacking or half-hearted…”
She raised the metal rod in her hand, a cryptic smirk curling her lips.
“You know the consequences.”
Mu Xi nodded frantically, her head bobbing like a pecking bird, vowing to practice diligently, not daring to show the slightest hint of laziness.
Ling Yue gave her a final, approving glance before turning and gliding out of the practice room, leaving Mu Xi alone amid the chaos of the space and the lingering, electric hum deep within her body.
Only when Ling Yue’s footsteps had faded did Mu Xi dare to let her guard down.
She slumped against the wall, her strength sapped, allowing that forbidden sensation to ripple unchecked through her.
She pressed her thighs together, hands clutching desperately at herself, trying to quell the shameful, irresistible tingling.
But it was futile.
Deep inside, that small white device vibrated tirelessly, mocking her weakness, her futile struggle.
Biting back the overwhelming sensation, Mu Xi fled to her room, her steps unsteady.
The room enveloped her in its cloying pink sweetness, like a giant marshmallow, soft and suffocating all at once.
Outside, the sky had darkened, time slipping away unnoticed in her haze of endurance.
The vibrations within her finally ceased, abrupt as a snapped wire, leaving her body in sudden stillness.
Mu Xi exhaled a shuddering breath, like a drowning soul breaking the surface at last.
Relief washed over her, so intense her legs trembled beneath her.
She stumbled into the bathroom, twisting the faucet with trembling hands.
Cold water cascaded down, as if it could rinse away the sticky layer of shame clinging to her skin.
The bathtub filled with steaming water, the rising mist blurring the mirror and softening the edges of Mu Xi’s expression.
She shed her sodden clothes and sank into the warmth, her body weightless, as if her very soul might dissolve into the ether.
The hot water cradled her, offering a fleeting moment of peace, but the shadow of that lingering sensation clung to her, inescapable.
The bathroom door swung open without warning, and Mu Xi’s heart lurched.
Her body froze.
Ye Lan stepped inside, clad in her signature black leather, the tight fabric accentuating her sleek, graceful form.
Her gaze was deep, probing, as if appraising a finely crafted work of art.
“Stand,” Ye Lan commanded, her voice brooking no defiance.
Mu Xi obeyed, rising from the tub, water droplets tracing paths down her pale skin, glinting like crystal in the light.
She crossed her arms over her chest, a futile attempt at modesty that only drew more attention to her vulnerability.
Ye Lan’s eyes roamed over her, sharp with scrutiny, lingering on Mu Xi’s still-developing form.
She stepped closer, her fingertips grazing the soft, unformed curve of Mu Xi’s chest.
“Hmm, you’re growing,” Ye Lan murmured, a note of approval in her voice, as if admiring a flower she’d nurtured into bloom.
“The medicinal baths are working, it seems. Not bad.”
Her cool touch sent a shiver through Mu Xi, not from tenderness but from the possessive weight of her gaze, assessing whether her prize met her standards.
Mu Xi stood rigid, humiliation burning in her chest.
She felt like a doll displayed in a shop window, her worth measured only by her ability to please.
Ye Lan reached for a snow-white towel, wiping Mu Xi’s body with deliberate care.
Her movements were far from gentle, almost careless, her fingers gliding over Mu Xi’s skin like an artisan inspecting fine porcelain for flaws.
Mu Xi stood frozen, letting Ye Lan maneuver her, the chilly air making her shiver as the towel absorbed the water—and with it, the last remnants of her strength.
Ye Lan was meticulous, tracing the delicate curve of Mu Xi’s neck, her frail shoulders, her barely budding chest, leaving no inch unexamined.
When the towel grazed the sensitive skin at the tops of her thighs, Mu Xi’s body jolted, a fresh wave of tingling surging through her, nearly toppling her.
She grabbed Ye Lan’s arm in a panic, trying to halt her, but her strength was laughably inadequate.
“Don’t move,” Ye Lan said, her voice cool with a hint of warning.
She glanced at Mu Xi’s flushed cheeks, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“What, already at your limit? This is only the beginning.”
Mu Xi bit her lip, forcing herself to stay still, letting Ye Lan continue her “care.”
Ye Lan’s gaze roved over her, a mix of appraisal and amusement.
The humiliation burned, but resistance was impossible.
When Ye Lan finished, she studied Mu Xi with a satisfied nod, then slipped an arm around her waist, guiding her back to the pink-drenched bed.
The room was thick with saccharine fragrance, the lacy pink curtains swaying softly in the breeze.
Ye Lan eased Mu Xi onto the bed, the soft mattress sinking beneath her, amplifying the hollow ache within.
Ye Lan propped herself up, gazing down at Mu Xi, her eyes dark and fathomless, like a frigid, bottomless pool.
She reached out, lifting Mu Xi’s arm gently to her nose, inhaling deeply.
“So sweet,” Ye Lan murmured, her voice laced with a trace of intoxication, as if savoring a rare spice.
Her gaze lingered on Mu Xi’s pale arm, growing shadowed, intense.
Mu Xi stiffened, startled by the gesture, her body locking up with tension.
She couldn’t fathom Ye Lan’s intentions, only watched her with mounting dread.
Ye Lan said nothing, only leaned closer, her tongue brushing lightly against the sensitive skin inside Mu Xi’s arm.