Chapter 182: Tension

After returning to her room, Mu Xi walked straight to the desk and picked up a thick book on music theory to read.

Ling Yue had left, so she could only rely on self-study to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

The setting sun burst through the window, casting a faint afterglow upon the pages.

“There’s a house of gold within books,” Mu Xi murmured softly, her fingers gliding over the musical notations on the paper, “Even without a teacher’s guidance, I can always learn some theory.”

Little An was busy around the room as usual, tending to every detail with meticulous care.

She tidied up the bed, wiped down the windowsill, adjusted the pleats in the curtains, and even arranged the pens on Mu Xi’s desk in perfect order.

“Miss, would you like to rest for a while? Reading for too long isn’t good for your eyes.” Little An gently reminded her, her eyes filled with a deeply hidden concern.

Mu Xi shook her head, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight, “No need. I want to learn a bit more.”

After finishing all her chores, Little An didn’t leave or rest. 

Instead, she walked straight to the bedside and knelt down on the carpet.

“Miss, you walked in the Garden for so long. Your feet must be tired.” Little An lowered her head, her voice tinged with pleading, “Let me massage your feet. It’ll help your circulation.”

Mu Xi looked up from her book, hesitating for a moment.

She wasn’t actually tired. 

That short stroll in the Garden was hardly any burden, especially now that her body was gradually adapting.

But seeing the anticipation in Little An’s eyes, she sighed softly, set the book aside, and sat down at the edge of the bed.

“All right, if you want to, go ahead.”

Little An’s face blossomed with a joyful smile. 

Carefully, she cupped one of Mu Xi’s feet in her hands.

Her movements were gentle yet skilled, pressing each acupuncture point with just the right amount of force.

“Miss’s feet are so beautiful,” Little An said softly, “Such precious feet ought to be well cared for.”

Mu Xi didn’t reply. 

She simply picked up her book and continued reading, but she could feel Little An’s hands occasionally—”inadvertently”—sliding over her ankle and brushing her calf.

That touch clearly went beyond the bounds of a normal massage, carrying a hidden longing.

Mu Xi noticed it, but paid it no mind.

Night fell quickly. 

Darkness, as thick as ink, quietly blanketed the entire Manor.

Mu Xi finished dinner in haste and, after returning to her room, headed straight for the bathroom.

Warm water streamed over her slender body, washing away the day’s fatigue.

She closed her eyes, letting the water trail down her silver hair, leaving winding traces across her fair skin.

The fragrance of the Medicine Bath still lingered on her skin, mingling with the scents of milk and perfume, filling the bathroom with a strange, sweet richness.

“Miss, do you need me to help you wash your back?” Little An’s voice came from outside the bathroom door, timid, but unable to hide a note of eager anticipation.

“No, I’ll be done soon.” Mu Xi declined, hastening her bathing.

After stepping out of the bathroom, Mu Xi changed into a silk nightgown. 

The soft fabric clung to her body, outlining her petite yet graceful figure.

She lay down on the oversized bed. 

The dark green silk sheets were cool and smooth. 

Closing her eyes, she began to hum softly.

It was an old folk song that Ling Yue had taught her, its melody lingering and touched with sadness.

Little An sat on the carpet by the bedside, her hands neatly placed on her knees, yet her gaze couldn’t help but roam over Mu Xi.

She listened to Mu Xi’s singing, her eyes brimming with fascination and adoration.

That voice seemed magical, making her forget her identity, forget the terrors of this Manor.

A chilly breeze suddenly blew in from outside, lifting a corner of the curtain.

Mu Xi shivered, her song coming to an abrupt halt.

“It’s a bit cold,” Mu Xi said softly, her silver hair glinting in the dim light. 

“Little An, close the window for me.”

“Yes, Miss.” Little An immediately stood up and hurried to the window.

She reached out to close it, her gaze inadvertently sweeping over the scene outside.

In the shadow of the Garden, there seemed to be a figure looking up toward this direction.

Little An narrowed her eyes, trying to see clearly, but the night was too deep, the distance too far. 

The figure was nothing but a wisp of mist.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she quickly closed the window and drew the curtains tight.

Returning to the bedside, she hesitated for a moment but decided to tell Mu Xi.

“Miss, I think I just saw someone in the Garden watching us.” Little An’s voice was barely audible, her eyes filled with obvious worry.

Mu Xi propped herself up, silver hair tumbling over her shoulders. 

She raised her eyebrows and curled her lips in a dismissive smile, “Oh? Probably that person who wants to assassinate me.”

Her tone was light, as if making a joke of no consequence.

But Little An’s face immediately grew serious, the emptiness in her eyes replaced by alertness.

“Miss, don’t joke about that,” Little An’s voice suddenly grew firm. 

“I will protect you.”

Mu Xi was startled, not expecting Little An to take it so seriously.

Looking into Little An’s eyes, which had suddenly become sharp and focused, she felt a strange sensation stir in her heart.

“I was just saying,” Mu Xi explained softly, “don’t take it so seriously.”

But Little An shook her head, stating resolutely, “No, Miss’s safety is most important. Tonight, I will watch over you.”

Mu Xi said nothing more, simply lay back down, and closed her eyes.

As the night deepened, only her steady breathing remained in the room.

Unlike usual, Little An didn’t sit by the bedside. 

She crouched in the corner of the room, her vigilant gaze fixed on the door.

Tonight, all her secret longing for Mu Xi was replaced by a fierce resolve to protect.

Her fingers instinctively brushed her waist, where a kitchen knife, stolen from the kitchen, was hidden.

Minute by minute, time slipped by. 

Mu Xi was already deep in dreams, but Little An stayed on full alert.

Her body grew stiff from remaining in the same posture for so long, yet she didn’t move, not even blinking.

Around one or two in the morning, a barely perceptible sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

The footsteps were very soft, clearly trying to stay hidden—completely different from the regular patrols of the Manor guards.

Little An’s body tensed instantly. 

She rose silently to her feet, the kitchen knife in her hand reflecting a faint sliver of moonlight.

She crept to the door, pressing her back to the wall and holding her breath.

The footsteps came closer and closer, finally stopping outside the door.

The sound of the doorknob turning was especially harsh in the silence of the night.

Little An gripped the knife handle tightly, her eyes flashing coldly.

She was ready—if the door opened, she would strike without hesitation.

The doorknob turned to its limit, and a thin line of light slipped through the crack.

‘Whoever tries to harm Miss,’ Little An silently recited in her heart, ‘will pay the price.’

But the person outside didn’t come in. 

Instead, they closed the door again and left quickly.

The faint footsteps gradually receded, disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Yet Little An’s nerves didn’t relax in the slightest. 

She still clutched the kitchen knife, its blade gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

She stood frozen in place, her heart pounding, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead.

‘Why? Why didn’t they come in?’

Little An swallowed hard, and suddenly realized something.

That tiny gulping sound—so soft it was nearly inaudible—might have already betrayed her presence.

She bit her lip in frustration, the silver moonlight streaming through the gap in the curtains illuminating her face, now even paler from tension.

She suddenly flung open the door, kitchen knife in front of her, and charged out into the corridor.