Mu Xi lowered her gaze, feeling Ye Lan’s breath brush across her cheek.
Tonight’s performance was only the beginning of Ye Lan’s meticulously crafted game of humiliation.
“Let’s go, my little songstress,” Ye Lan chuckled softly, pulling Mu Xi toward the banquet hall, “Give them an unforgettable show.”
Mu Xi took a deep breath and followed in Ye Lan’s footsteps.
A sweet scent lingered around her, as if forming a fragile barrier—but one that could never truly shield her from the gaze she was about to face.
Led by Ye Lan through the ornate, extravagant corridors, Mu Xi’s heartbeat quickened with every step.
She could feel the eyes of every attendant on her; those gazes seemed almost tangible, sliding across her soul and leaving her drowning in shame.
The backstage of the banquet hall was even more spacious than she’d imagined, and in front of the makeup table, ringed with silver-framed mirrors, an array of bottles and jars was already prepared.
Mu Xi sat stiffly on the soft leather chair, the uncomfortable foreign sensation in her body gave a constant reminder of how awkward her situation was.
She instinctively pressed her legs together, which only drew a meaningful smile from Ye Lan.
“Don’t be nervous, my little songstress.” Ye Lan leaned in, her fingertips brushing Mu Xi’s trembling shoulder, “Tonight, you’ll be the brightest star in their eyes.”
The woman in charge of makeup stood behind Mu Xi, makeup brush in hand, yet didn’t move for a long while.
She kept scrutinizing Mu Xi’s reflection—the face in the mirror was exquisitely perfect, and her brows gradually knitted in concern.
“What’s wrong?” Ye Lan noticed something was off, and shot the makeup artist a cold glance.
“Madam, I…” The makeup artist stammered, helpless, “This young lady’s skin is far too delicate, her features too perfect—I’m afraid any makeup will only mar that natural beauty.”
Ye Lan let out a low laugh, “It seems my little pet has even stumped a professional.”
With no other choice, the makeup artist lightly dusted Mu Xi’s face with setting powder and added a touch of blush, but even so, that unique aura seemed to diminish a bit.
The person in the mirror looked a little more ordinary, lacking that heart-stirring, ethereal charm.
“Stop,” Ye Lan waved her hand, stopping her.
“It’s better with no makeup at all.”
Mu Xi looked at her own pale reflection in the mirror and suddenly felt a surge of absurdity.
What she was doing now—still tormented within, her bladder aching painfully—yet she was actually worrying about her makeup.
Ye Lan came up behind her, leaning down to brush her lips close to Mu Xi’s ear, “Do you know? You’re like a night-blooming cereus blossoming in a secluded valley, needing no adornment to exude captivating fragrance.”
Her fingers traced slowly down Mu Xi’s spine, “That unintentional vulnerability and pride is more alluring than any embellishment.”
Such poetic praise stirred subtle waves in Mu Xi’s heart.
She bit her lower lip in frustration, unwilling to admit that Ye Lan’s words gave her even a sliver of satisfaction.
Yet the faint blush on her cheeks in the mirror had already betrayed her true feelings.
At that moment, a sudden discomfort deep in Mu Xi’s abdomen began anew—the pain was back.
She tensed instantly, cold sweat breaking out across her back.
The jolt of agony was brief, but it made the pressure in her bladder all the more unbearable.
“What’s wrong?” Ye Lan narrowed her eyes, the corner of her lips curling in a knowing smile while toying with a small device in her hand.
“N-nothing, Master.” Mu Xi forced herself to endure, her voice barely a whisper.
She subtly adjusted her posture, trying to alleviate that ever-present fear of losing control.
“Can you hold on?” Ye Lan asked playfully with a dangerous light glinting in her eyes, “The banquet will last at least two more hours.”
Mu Xi swallowed hard, unable to imagine the humiliation if she were to lose control in front of everyone on stage.
She mustered every ounce of strength to control every part of her body, forcing herself to recall Ling Yue’s breathing techniques, trying desperately to divert her attention.
“Answer me.” Ye Lan’s voice turned abruptly stern.
“I… I can hold on, Master.” Mu Xi replied with a trembling voice, silently calculating how to find relief as soon as the performance ended.
“Very good,” Ye Lan nodded in satisfaction, reaching out to stroke Mu Xi’s silvery hair, “If you perform well tonight, I’ll give you a reward.”
She paused, her voice deepening, “If you don’t, the punishment will be something you’ll remember for a lifetime.”
Staring at her lifeless and strained face in the mirror, despair surged over Mu Xi like a tide.
She had no idea how she would perform for those malicious eyes in this state, or how she would preserve her last shred of dignity.
Noise from the audience was already filtering through—the show was about to start.
Urged forward by Ye Lan, Mu Xi slowly stepped onto the stage.
Every step felt like treading on the edge of a blade—not just because of her humiliating attire, but also the dual torment within her, threatening to go out of control at any moment.
The stage was dim, only a few spotlights precisely illuminating her, presenting her fully to the audience.
Light cut through the dust in the air, casting shadows and highlights on her fair skin, outlining a nearly artistic scene.
A chorus of exclamations and suppressed laughter immediately rose from below.
Mu Xi squinted, trying to make out the faces in the crowd, but only blurry outlines emerged.
All were women—which was no surprise; Ye Lan’s Manor never allowed any man to enter.
Except for Guests.
She moved toward the grand piano at the center of the stage, every step accompanied by the soft clinking of the golden chain at her waist, as if counting down to something secret.
Sitting down, the cold of the piano bench made her shudder involuntarily—’was it really this cold, or had Ye Lan arranged it on purpose? That woman was full of mischief!’
The sheet music was right before her which was Ye Lan’s first challenge.
No rehearsal, just sight-reading.
Lyrics were attached below the notes, requiring her to play and sing at once.
‘What a twisted sense of humor.’ Mu Xi cursed inwardly, not daring to show even a hint of dissatisfaction.
She took a deep breath and rested her fingers lightly on the keys.
At that very moment, the torment began without warning, catching Mu Xi completely off guard; she didn’t even realize what was happening at first.
“…..”
The sound of her sharp intake of breath, as she fought the pain, was picked up by the microphone and echoed throughout the banquet hall.
An uproar broke out among the audience—some laughing suggestively, others whispering curiously to one another.
Mu Xi’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but she bit her lip, forcing herself to focus.
The pain didn’t subside—it only grew more intense, which made sense; after all, Ye Lan was its Master, and she was just a puppet.
Mu Xi lowered her head and saw her palms already slick with sweat.
She stole a glance at the side of the stage; Ye Lan was there, toying with the controller, her lips curved in a cruel smile.
“Begin, my little songstress.” Ye Lan’s lips mouthed the command silently.
Mu Xi had no choice but to turn her attention back to the score.
She gently pressed the keys, hoping to bury her embarrassment in music.
The first note rang out—clear and lonely, like a star in the darkness.
“Honored Guests,” she forced herself to speak, her voice steadier than she expected, “Tonight I will perform ‘Whispers Under the Moonlight’ for everyone.”
This was a piece Ling Yue had taught her—melodic, but incredibly challenging.
Under normal circumstances, Mu Xi was confident she could deliver a flawless performance; but now, her fingers trembled, and Ye Lan was deliberately disrupting her rhythm, trying to make her stumble.
The first phrase of the melody flowed out; Mu Xi closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the music, to escape reality.
Yet just as she was slipping into the mood, a fierce pain stabbed through her abdomen, so sharp she almost missed a note.