Mu Xi jerked her head up, panic flickering in her eyes.
Then, just as quickly she lowered her gaze, not daring to meet Ling Yue’s eyes.
She hadn’t expected Ling Yue to be so perceptive, to guess the reason in an instant.
Ling Yue didn’t press further.
She only said lightly, “If your heart is unsettled, your tone will be impure. The greatest taboo in music is distracting thoughts.”
Mu Xi bit her lip, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “I understand.”
Ling Yue looked at her, then suddenly spoke, her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather: “Your discomfort is affecting your practice. I’ll teach you how to resolve it now.”
Mu Xi froze, not immediately understanding what Ling Yue meant.
She lifted her head, bewildered.
Ling Yue gave a glance toward Mu Xi’s flushed cheeks, then said bluntly, “Desire is only human nature. It’s better to release it than to suppress it. Once you vent it your mind won’t be disturbed any longer.”
In that instant, Mu Xi understood.
Her face burned even hotter, as if it might start steaming.
She stared at Ling Yue in shock.
She had never imagined that this normally aloof and noble teacher would say such things.
“Is… is that really okay?” Mu Xi stammered, her voice so small it was nearly inaudible.
Ling Yue raised an eyebrow, her tone as if it were self-evident: “Why wouldn’t it be? The body is the foundation of your instrument. Only by maintaining your best physical state can you truly master music. This is for the sake of music, not for anything else.”
She paused, then added with a touch of icy authority: “Of course, the premise is that you must keep your mind clear, focused on the music itself. If you use this as an excuse to indulge, that’s another matter entirely.”
Mu Xi stood rooted to the spot, her mind buzzing.
Ling Yue’s words exploded in her ears like thunder, leaving her whole body tingling and numb.
She never could have guessed that the ever-cool, noble Teacher Ling Yue would say something so… so unspeakable.
A flood of indescribable emotions surged up inside her, instantly drowning out her reason.
Her cheeks were so hot it felt like blood might drip from them.
She felt as if she were being roasted over a fire, every inch of her skin screaming with discomfort.
In a panic, she stepped back, turning away, unable to look Ling Yue in the eye.
The Practice Room was utterly silent.
Only the Steinway Piano gleamed coldly in the dim light.
The air felt frozen and oppressive, making it hard to breathe.
Mu Xi bit down on her lip so hard her teeth nearly drew blood.
Her fingertips clutched her skirt with desperate force.
Her mind was a complete blank, all her thoughts tangled into a hopeless mess.
Ling Yue’s words echoed in her ears, refusing to be banished, like an incantation.
Focus… undivided attention… for the sake of music…
These words tumbled through her mind, making her feel even more embarrassed.
Yet, deep inside, there was a faint, restless desire beginning to stir.
She wasn’t truly a woman, yet she’d been forced into a female body.
She couldn’t ignore the instincts of this body, no matter how hard she tried.
Besides, the Throat Lozenges Ye Lan fed her every day had already built up an undeniable effect within her.
She could feel that restless energy deep inside, like a wild beast caged within her, desperate to break free.
That force was indeed disrupting her practice, leaving her agitated and unable to concentrate.
Ling Yue was right.
An unsettled heart leads to impure music.
For the sake of music… for the chance to escape this place…
Mu Xi’s body began to tremble slightly.
Slowly, she raised her hand, hesitating as she reached behind herself.
Even letting her fingertips brush through the air sent a chill straight to her bones.
Her heart pounded wildly, as if it might burst out of her chest.
She took a deep breath, striving to steady her ragged breathing.
Ling Yue’s gaze pressed against her back like a tangible weight, making her even more tense.
Mu Xi closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering like fragile butterfly wings.
She clenched her jaw, steeling herself, and tried to cast off that part of herself that didn’t belong.
As if in response to her thoughts, that thing suddenly lashed back, and a wave of sensation surged through her without warning.
Mu Xi cried out, her legs giving way.
She slid helplessly onto the cold carpet.
A faint sound of pain slipped from her lips, unusually clear in the silent Practice Room.
Ling Yue stood with her back to Mu Xi, her posture still upright and composed, as if that sudden noise had been nothing more than a tremor in the air, unrelated to her.
She turned around slowly, her gaze sweeping over Mu Xi.
Her expression was as calm as a deep, still lake, utterly unruffled, as if nothing had happened—or as if everything had been foreseen.
Mu Xi’s cheeks were so red they looked about to bleed.
She tried to get up in embarrassment, but her body was limp as mud, completely unresponsive.
That backlash continued, refusing to let her go.
It hammered at her fragile nerves, and an indescribable feeling flooded her, overwhelming her completely.
She bit down on her lower lip, nearly breaking the skin, trying desperately to suppress the broken cries that threatened to escape her throat.
She lifted her head and stole a glance at Ling Yue, only to see her gazing out the window.
The purple qipao made her back look even colder and prouder, as if she stood atop a snowy peak, untouched by the dust of the mortal world.
Ling Yue’s indifference only made Mu Xi feel even more mortified, as if all her struggles and resistance were nothing but a meaningless farce in Ling Yue’s eyes.
A reckless thought rose in Mu Xi’s heart.
Since she’d already been seen through, since she was doomed to humiliation, she might as well let go this once.
After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d lost control in front of Ling Yue, nor the first time she’d been treated as someone’s plaything.
She simply gave up trying to get up, collapsing limply on the floor, letting those sensations rampage through her body.
She began to let her voice out, her repressed heart slowly becoming clear.
She stopped caring about anything else; her mind was filled only with the thought of focusing entirely on music.
Everything else was just another hurdle she’d have to cross on her journey.
That restless energy deep inside her burst forth like a broken dam, wild and destructive.
She tilted her head back, silver hair spilling across the velvet carpet like blooming snow lotuses, stark against her slightly flushed cheeks.
Her eyes stayed tightly shut, long lashes trembling like delicate butterfly wings in the wind.
In the Practice Room, only the piano’s cold gleam remained, mingling with Mu Xi’s growing abandon, forming a strange and indescribable tableau.
When it finally subsided, the aftershocks within her faded like the ebbing tide.
Mu Xi lay limp on the floor, utterly drained.
Her cheeks were rosy, her gaze unfocused—she couldn’t tell if it was more anger or relief that lingered.
Her breath came in short, rapid gasps, chest heaving as she struggled to pull herself out of the chaos.
“Ling Yue… teacher…” Mu Xi’s voice was hoarse, the end trembling slightly, like a child who had done something wrong, timid and uneasy.
She didn’t dare look at Ling Yue, her eyes fixed on the ground, as if searching for some hidden pattern there.
Ling Yue remained as cold and aloof as ever, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with her.
Only when she heard Mu Xi’s voice did she finally turn, her gaze landing on Mu Xi—calm and indifferent, as if she were looking at an ordinary object, without the slightest ripple.
“Do you need to rest for a while?” Ling Yue’s voice was still cool and even, betraying no emotion.