Mu Xi took a deep breath, suppressing the surging hatred and nausea in her heart, and walked expressionlessly to the wooden basin.
The bath towel slipped to the ground, revealing her slender and petite body.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and under the dim light, it shone with a fragile luster.
She didn’t look at Ye Lan and directly lifted one foot, stepping into the icy wooden basin.
The inner wall of the basin was somewhat rough, hurting the soles of her feet.
She forced herself to endure the discomfort and began to examine the “ingredients” scattered around the basin.
Red berries, emitting a sweet aroma.
Purple grapes, crystal clear.
Golden tubers, with a smell of soil.
And also the few pieces of soft-looking bread.
‘How to combine them?’
Ye Lan didn’t give any instructions.
Perhaps she didn’t care about the taste at all; she just wanted to see Mu Xi in a pathetic state.
Mu Xi closed her eyes, then opened them, her gaze icy cold.
She bent down, her slender fingers brushing over the ingredients, and finally picked up a cluster of plump purple grapes and a few red berries, throwing them into the wooden basin.
Then she lifted her other foot and stepped in as well.
The cool fruits touched her warm skin, bringing a strange sensation.
Mu Xi gritted her teeth and began to trample forcefully.
The soft skin of the fruits burst instantly, splashing cool juice, staining her pale ankles red. The sticky pulp and juice mixed together, making “squelch” sounds.
Ye Lan stood aside, arms crossed, watching quietly.
Only the slightly raised corner of her mouth revealed her current mood.
Silver hair fell down, covering most of her face, and also the hatred and determination that almost overflowed from her eyes.
There was no expression on her face, and her deep, slender phoenix eyes were like two deep ancient wells, bottomless.
Mu Xi could feel Ye Lan’s gaze, like it carried a tangible temperature, burning her skin, making every inch of her feel embarrassed and stinging.
She trampled harder, as if to vent all her humiliation and anger onto the fruits under her feet.
Purple-red juice splashed onto her legs, mottled and shocking.
She didn’t stop.
She grabbed a few pieces of bread, threw them into the basin, and continued trampling.
The bread quickly became a messy purple-red, wet, soft, and sticky.
Ye Lan’s voice sounded again, breaking the eerie silence.
“Not enough.”
Her voice was very soft, but carried an unquestionable command.
Mu Xi paused for a moment, raised her head, and looked at her coldly.
Ye Lan met her gaze, the curve of her lips deepening.
“Add those tubers in too.”
Mu Xi’s movement froze for an instant, her raised face pale, only her eyes burning with cold light, shooting straight at Ye Lan.
Ye Lan did not flinch, even deepening the curve of her lips, with a kind of playful cruelty.
“Add those tubers in too.” She repeated, her voice still soft, but carrying an irresistible pressure, seeping into the air, pressing down on Mu Xi’s thin shoulders.
Those tubers, with the smell of fresh soil, rough skin, irregular shapes, scattered around the edge of the wooden basin, mismatched with the colorful fruits and soft bread.
They looked more like ordinary food, with rustic earthiness, but at this moment, they became props of humiliation.
Mu Xi lowered her eyelashes, the long lashes casting faint shadows on her pale skin. She didn’t speak, nor did she look at Ye Lan again.
Silently, she bent down, picked up the soil-stained tubers, her fingers touching the rough skin, feeling the hard texture. She threw them one by one into the basin.
“Thump, thump, thump.”
The dull sounds beat against the silent room, and also beat against Mu Xi’s heart.
The scene in the basin became even more unsightly.
Purple-red juice, sticky pulp, wet bread crumbs, now mixed with hard, soiled tubers.
It looked like a pile of casually discarded garbage, emitting a strange smell of sweetness and earthiness mixed together.
Mu Xi lifted her foot again and stepped down.
This time, what her sole felt was no longer the soft breaking of fruit skin, but the pain of hard tubers.
She almost immediately felt a sharp pain, as if stepping on gravel.
Her tender sole skin was rubbed by the rough tuber skin, quickly showing red marks, and even feeling a tingling sting.
She bit her lower lip, lips turning white, but she didn’t make a sound.
She began to trample even harder, as if only thus could she vent the surging hatred and humiliation in her heart.
She would crush and destroy these things, along with all the pain Ye Lan had inflicted on her.
Under her trampling, the tubers made creak sounds.
Some were cracked open, leaking white sap, mixing into the mess of purple-red, making the liquid even murkier.
Squelch, squelch, creak, creak…
Various sounds interweaved, accompanied by the sound of viscous liquid being squeezed, composing an absurd and humiliating movement.
Silver hair slipped down, almost covering all her expression, leaving only a stubborn and tense jawline.
Sweat oozed from her temples, sliding down her cheeks, dripping into the basin, disappearing instantly into the filth.
Her body trembled slightly from exertion, not from cold, but from extreme anger and suppression.
Ye Lan stood there the whole time, maintaining her arms-crossed posture. Her presence itself was a silent oppression.
Mu Xi could clearly feel that focused, temperatureless gaze, which turned into invisible needles, piercing every inch of her skin, making her feel nowhere to hide, and shameful enough to want to curl up.
But she couldn’t.
Li Xin and Little An were still waiting for her. She had to endure.
Time seemed to stretch very long, every minute and second was torment.
The “ingredients” in the wooden basin were finally trampled into a blurry, complex-smelling paste. Purple-red, yellow-brown, white, and soil colors interwoven, sticky and disgusting.
“Okay.” Ye Lan finally spoke, breaking the suffocating silence.
Mu Xi stopped her movements, her feet still immersed in the mess, her ankles and calves stained with filth, mottled and shocking.
She slowly lifted her foot, and the sticky liquid pulled, making a “gurgle” sound.
She wiped her foot against the edge of the basin, trying to remove some dirt, but with little effect.
On her white skin, those purple-red marks were particularly glaring.
Ye Lan stepped forward and placed a clean, large white porcelain bowl at Mu Xi’s feet.
“Pack it up.” Her order was concise.
Mu Xi looked at the bowl, then at the disgusting pile in the basin, her stomach churning.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to ignore the strange smell and visual impact.
She squatted down and reached out her hands.
Those hands, once not touching the dust of spring water, now had to reach into this filth.
The cold, sticky, crumb-filled paste wrapped around her fingers, a sensation that almost made her vomit.
She endured the intense nausea, using her hands to scoop up the contents of the basin little by little, putting it into the white porcelain bowl.
Her movements were slow and mechanical, as if her soul had long left.
Soon, a large bowl of “finished product” was completed.