Ling Yue inclined her head ever so slightly, her gaze settling on Mu Xi like the still, icy depths of a winter lake, sharp with scrutiny and a faint, almost imperceptible trace of disdain.
She studied Mu Xi from head to toe, her eyes piercing, as though they could unravel every secret hidden beneath her skin.
Mu Xi squirmed under the weight of that stare, her shoulders hunching instinctively.
There was something about this Teacher Ling Yue that felt even more formidable than Ye Lan, a presence that sent unease prickling down her spine.
Ye Lan, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension simmering between them, issued a few brief instructions before turning on her heel and leaving the practice room.
Mu Xi was left alone, facing the formidable vocal instructor whose aura seemed to fill the space like a gathering storm.
Ling Yue strode to the corner of the room and picked up a sleek, black metal rod, weighing it in her hand.
It made a dull, ominous thud as she turned, her eyes locking onto Mu Xi with a glacial intensity.
Her crimson lips parted, and her voice cut through the silence, cold and devoid of warmth.
“When I teach, I tolerate no nonsense. You’d best behave, no tricks, no distractions.”
She paused, her tone sharpening like a blade.
“Each day, you will sing better than the last, even if it’s only by a fraction. I’ll know. But if I catch you slacking, or if your heart’s not in it…”
Ling Yue raised the metal rod, her lips curling into a chilling smile.
“You’ll turn around, bend over, and I’ll teach you a lesson with this you won’t soon forget.”
Mu Xi flinched, her hands flying protectively to her backside, her heart sinking as a wave of dread washed over her.
She stared at the gleaming black rod in Ling Yue’s hand, her scalp tingling with fear.
What kind of twisted place was this manor?
First Ye Lan, suffocating in her own way, and now this terrifying Ling Yue—Mu Xi felt as though she’d stumbled into a den of wolves.
As despair coiled in her chest, a sudden, strange vibration stirred deep within her body, a tingling sensation that spread like wildfire, freezing her in place.
That cursed device!
Ye Lan had chosen this moment to activate it.
Mu Xi’s face drained of color, a rush of shame and fear flooding her senses.
She clamped her thighs together, desperate to quell the sensation, but it was no use.
The small, white object buried within her seemed to come alive, pulsing with relentless intensity.
Ling Yue’s sharp eyes caught the shift in Mu Xi’s demeanor.
She arched a brow, her gaze growing even colder.
“What’s this? We haven’t even started, and you’re already begging for a beating?”
Mu Xi snapped to attention, bowing hastily as she stammered an apology.
“I’m sorry, Teacher! I—I got distracted.”
Ling Yue’s icy stare raked over Mu Xi’s face, a hint of mockery flickering in her tone.
“It seems Miss Mu Xi’s resolve could use some sharpening.”
She glided to the piano, her slender fingers brushing the keys, coaxing forth a cascade of crisp, aloof notes that mirrored her own distant demeanor.
“Breath is the foundation of singing,” Ling Yue said, her back to Mu Xi, her voice as cold as the notes she played.
“Start with breath control. Fifty rounds of diaphragmatic breathing. Begin.”
Mu Xi didn’t dare hesitate.
She straightened, struggling to pull her focus away from the maddening pulses coursing through her body, and began the breathing exercises as instructed.
But the relentless vibrations within her were like a parasite, gnawing at her nerves, making it impossible to concentrate.
Each breath only amplified the sensation, the tingling growing more intense with every rise and fall of her chest.
It was as though a tiny electric current was rampaging through her, leaving her caught between shame and torment.
She clenched her teeth, fighting to suppress any sound that might betray her, her face flushed crimson, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.
Though Ling Yue faced away, she seemed to sense every falter, her voice cutting through the air.
“Your breath is uneven, your chest rising too much. Use your abdomen, feel the strength in your core.”
Mu Xi’s heart wailed in protest.
‘This wasn’t breath practice—it was torture!’
She felt like a shrimp sizzling on a grill, her body scorched by the relentless tingling, yet forced to maintain a facade of calm diligence.
Worse still, Ling Yue’s voice was like a spell, each reminder to focus on her breath only sharpening her awareness of the maddening vibrations below.
Fifty rounds of breathing, a task Mu Xi could normally breeze through, now stretched into an eternity of agony.
When Ling Yue finally called a halt, Mu Xi was drenched in sweat, her legs trembling as though she’d been pulled from a river.
“Next, vocal exercises.”
Ling Yue turned, her icy gaze sweeping over Mu Xi, as though peering through her fragile composure.
“Open your mouth, produce an ‘ah’ sound, low to high, then high to low. Keep your breath steady, your tone full. No trembling, no cracks. Understood?”
“Understood…” Mu Xi replied weakly, her voice betraying a faint quiver.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and opened her mouth to produce the note.
But before the sound could form, the tingling within her erupted like a volcano, surging to a peak.
A jolt of electricity shot through her, her body shuddering as a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her throat.
Ling Yue’s brow furrowed, her eyes sharpening to a razor’s edge.
“What are you doing?”
Mu Xi’s heart plummeted.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her face burning red as she stammered, “N-nothing, Teacher! My—my throat’s just a bit off…”
“A bit off?” Ling Yue’s lips curved into a cold, skeptical arc, her eyes brimming with suspicion.
“Your face is flushed, your breath erratic. That doesn’t look like a throat problem to me.”
Her tone hardened.
“Mu Xi, I’m warning you—behave yourself. Try any tricks with me, and you’ll regret it.”
Mu Xi’s heart raced, Ling Yue’s gaze piercing through her as though every hidden secret had been laid bare.
She waved her hands frantically, her words tumbling out in a jumble.
“No, no, Teacher, you’ve got it wrong! I’m not trying anything, I’m just… nervous. It’s my first time studying with you, I’m too excited…”
Ling Yue let out a cold huff, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further.
Her eyes only grew colder, her voice sharper.
“It had better be. Now, start your vocal exercises. If I hear another sound that shouldn’t be there, don’t expect mercy.”
She raised the metal rod, its threat chilling the air.
Mu Xi trembled, not daring to falter again.
She forced herself to focus, battling the intensifying sensations within her, and began to sing, each note crafted with painstaking care to avoid rousing Ling Yue’s suspicions.
In the practice room, only Mu Xi’s strained, careful singing and Ling Yue’s occasional, icy commands filled the silence.
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