The sky had not yet brightened, but the Silent Language Building was already shrouded in deathly stillness.
The air was thick with a lingering metallic coldness, mixed with the pungent odor of disinfectant, drilling into Mu Xi’s nostrils.
She had hardly slept the night before.
After making that decision to give up, she hadn’t found the peace she’d expected, but instead fell into a deeper void.
The hatred still remained, the humiliation still remained, but they were now covered by a thick layer of exhaustion.
She lay with her eyes open, staring at the cold outline of the light fixture on the alloy ceiling, until she heard steady, rhythmic footsteps outside the door.
She was here.
Mu Xi’s heart tightened almost imperceptibly, then she forced herself to relax.
Even if she was faking it, she had to see it through.
The metal door slid open silently, and Ye Lan walked in.
She was still dressed in a sharply tailored black combat outfit today, which accentuated her tall and straight posture. Her long, jet-black hair was casually tied back, revealing her smooth forehead and those deep, phoenix-like eyes.
Behind her were two personal guards, each carrying several exquisite boxes.
Ye Lan waved her hand. The guards set down the boxes, bowed, and withdrew. The door closed again.
Only the two of them remained in the Silent Language Building.
Ye Lan walked to the bedside and looked down at Mu Xi.
Her face was expressionless, but Mu Xi could feel the weight of her scrutiny—formless yet tangible, making her deeply uncomfortable.
“Get up.” Ye Lan’s voice was calm, revealing neither joy nor anger.
Mu Xi obediently sat up. The blanket slid off, revealing her body in a thin nightgown.
The faint morning light streamed through the narrow window, casting pale streaks on her pallid skin. Mu Xi hung her head, her long silver hair covering her cheeks, revealing only her delicate chin.
Ye Lan opened a box. Inside was a pure white silk dress, soft and light, shimmering with a pearl-like luster. Mu Xi didn’t move.
“Change.” Ye Lan commanded, tossing the dress onto the bed.
It wasn’t resistance—it was waiting.
Waiting for Ye Lan’s next move.
As expected, after a two-second pause with no reaction, Ye Lan leaned in.
Her icy fingers touched the buttons of Mu Xi’s nightgown, one by one, slowly undoing them.
Mu Xi’s body stiffened for a moment.
That touch, carrying Ye Lan’s characteristic cool body temperature and an undeniable sense of control, almost made her tremble uncontrollably.
‘Hold on,’ she told herself.
‘This is the path you chose.’
The nightgown was peeled off and tossed aside.
The chilly morning air enveloped her naked body, raising a fine layer of goosebumps.
She sat on the bed, naked, slightly curled up, her silver hair cascading down, just barely covering her chest.
She could feel Ye Lan’s gaze lingering over every inch of her skin, with an almost greedy possessiveness.
Ye Lan picked up the white silk dress and shook it open.
The silk rustled with a faint whisper.
She personally dressed Mu Xi in the gown. Her movements weren’t gentle—they were even a bit rough, her fingers occasionally brushing against Mu Xi’s skin, sending shudders through her. Mu Xi kept her head down the entire time, letting herself be handled like a soulless doll.
She even forced herself to relax, not resisting the touch that made her uncomfortable.
After the dress was on, Ye Lan stepped back and examined her. “Not bad,” she commented, her tone flat.
But inside was a black lace minidress of an entirely different style.
“Take it off,” Ye Lan commanded again.
Mu Xi could feel Ye Lan’s patience draining.
Ye Lan stepped forward. Before Mu Xi could untie it herself, Ye Lan reached out, her fingertips applying force, and the silk ribbon snapped with a sharp sound. The tearing of fabric was especially jarring in the silent room.
The white dress was stripped off again.
The repeated shame washed over Mu Xi’s nerves.
She bit her lower lip, suppressing that humiliation deep within her heart.
‘She’s probably enjoying this process,’ she thought.
Control, deprivation, then re-endowment.
Treating her like a trophy, an item whose packaging could be changed at will.
The black lace minidress was slipped onto her.
The cool lace clung to her skin, creating a strange sensation.
Ye Lan’s fingers lingered on her waist, adjusting the dress’s position.
Mu Xi could smell the faint smoke and leather scent on Ye Lan—the smell of a strong person, and also the smell of an enemy.
She forced herself to lift her head and meet Ye Lan’s gaze.
She tried to make her expression look calm, even a little numb.
She wanted Ye Lan to see that her resistance had been completely ground down.
She was no longer that Mu Xi who would protect herself with thorns.
Ye Lan’s fingertips traced her collarbone, sending a faint, tingling itch.
“Looks like you’ve learned to behave,” Ye Lan’s voice seemed to carry a hint of a smile, but it chilled the heart.
Mu Xi didn’t reply. She just maintained that obedient posture.
Next came the third, the fourth…
Gorgeous, minimalist, sexy, innocent…
Each one was like attaching a different label to her. Mu Xi felt like a part on an assembly line, being grabbed, installed, and dismantled by a mechanical arm.
The clothes Ye Lan had brought were varied, each one expensive. Over and over, she put them on, only to be roughly stripped off.
The beautiful clothes scattered on the bed—silk, lace, cotton and linen, colorful—now seemed like mocking symbols, heaping up her shame.
White symbolized purity? Black symbolized temptation? Pink symbolized delicacy?
But inside, there was only cold hatred and an unfathomable exhaustion.
Ye Lan seemed to take pleasure in it.
Her movements still carried that assertive certainty, her fingertips grazing Mu Xi’s skin, sometimes chilling, sometimes carrying a scorching intensity.
Mu Xi forced herself not to feel, not to think, emptying her consciousness as if her soul had already withdrawn from this manipulated shell.
She was just an object, a doll, with no feelings, no emotions.
As long as Ye Lan got bored, this absurd game would end.
That was her only hope.
“Raise your arm.” Ye Lan’s voice sounded again.
A light purple gauze overlay was draped over her, so light it felt almost weightless.
Ye Lan moved behind her and tied the thin ribbon at her waist.
Her cool fingertips intentionally or unintentionally brushed against the sensitive skin on Mu Xi’s side.
Mu Xi couldn’t control a slight tremble.
Ye Lan paused.
Mu Xi’s heart instantly leaped into her throat.
Had she been exposed? Was her feigned numbness seen through?
Ye Lan said nothing. Her fingers lingered for a moment on the spot where Mu Xi had trembled, then slowly withdrew. She walked in front of Mu Xi, pinched her chin, and forced her to lift her face.
Mu Xi’s eyelashes fluttered as she had to meet those deep, phoenix-like eyes.
Ye Lan’s pupils were pure black, like two whirlpools, threatening to suck her in.
“You’re trembling,” Ye Lan stated flatly, her tone unreadable. “Afraid of me?”
Mu Xi lowered her gaze, avoiding her stare.
She couldn’t answer.
Admitting fear would satisfy Ye Lan’s need for control.
Denying fear would seem fake.
Silence was her only choice at this moment.
Ye Lan didn’t seem to need her reply.
She released Mu Xi’s chin, her fingertips sliding down her cheek, stopping at her lips, gently rubbing against them.