Li Xin glanced at Mu Xi, her heart tangled with hesitation, but in the end, she chose to leave the Practice Room and head toward the adjacent Rest Room.
After all, every time Ling Yue taught Mu Xi alone, she would always ask Li Xin to leave, as if her presence would disturb them.
This time, Li Xin left voluntarily, to avoid another argument.
The door to the Practice Room closed softly, shutting out all outside noise, and the room instantly fell into silence.
Mu Xi picked up the pen and paper Ling Yue handed her.
Ling Yue also took a pen, and without a word, they began a silent exchange.
Ling Yue was the first to write: “What do you plan to do with this song?”
Her handwriting was delicate, carrying a cold, distant feeling.
Mu Xi quickly responded on the paper: “What else can I do? Sing it, of course.”
Ling Yue furrowed her brows slightly and continued writing: “I can help you refuse.”
Mu Xi’s heart stirred slightly as she read the words, but then she shook her head and wrote: “It’s useless. What the Master decides cannot be changed by anyone.”
She paused for a moment before adding: “Besides, I don’t want to drag you into this.”
Ling Yue’s eyes flickered, seemingly not expecting Mu Xi’s reply.
After a brief silence, she wrote: “Do you trust me?”
Mu Xi looked up and met Ling Yue’s cool, clear gaze, which seemed to hold a faint, hard-to-notice earnestness and concern.
She hesitated, then slowly shook her head and wrote: “I don’t know.”
She dared not easily trust anyone, especially someone of Ling Yue’s status.
Ling Yue seemed to have anticipated Mu Xi’s answer; she did not appear angry but only sighed softly and wrote: “It’s okay. Time will prove everything.”
She set the pen and paper aside and walked over to the piano.
Her slender fingers glided over the black and white keys, producing cold, clear notes.
“First, let’s master the song.” Ling Yue said softly, her tone devoid of emotion.
Mu Xi walked to the piano and placed the sheet music on the stand.
The prelude began, carrying a hint of flirtation and ambiguity.
Mu Xi took a deep breath and started humming softly.
Her voice remained sweet and clear, but the lyrics sent chills down her spine.
Ling Yue listened attentively beside her, occasionally pausing to point out Mu Xi’s shortcomings in pronunciation and breath control.
They practiced silently like this, the only sounds in the room being the piano and Mu Xi’s singing.
Time slipped by little by little.
The sunlight outside shifted westward, yet the atmosphere in the room remained heavy and oppressive.
When practice ended, Ling Yue picked up the pen and paper again and wrote: “Rest well tonight. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
After writing, she looked up, her gaze resting on Mu Xi’s face.
There was a trace of complicated emotion in her eyes, but in the end, she only nodded lightly, signaling Mu Xi to perform well.
That glance seemed to carry many unspoken words, as well as a barely perceptible encouragement and expectation.
Li Xin carefully cradled Mu Xi in her arms and steadily walked through the hallway lined with thick carpets, returning to Mu Xi’s room.
Along the way, Mu Xi quietly leaned against Li Xin’s embrace, a faint exhaustion on her delicate face.
She could feel the firmness and warmth of Li Xin’s arms—this embrace always brought her an inexplicable sense of comfort.
Back in the room, Li Xin gently laid Mu Xi down on the soft bed.
Silk bedding slipped down alongside Mu Xi’s silver-white hair, filling the room with a faint scent of cream—the unique fragrance that clung to Mu Xi, sweet and enticing.
Li Xin’s eyes darkened as she watched Mu Xi, waiting for her instructions.
Mu Xi slowly sat up, leaning against the intricately carved headboard.
The dark green silk bedding made her skin appear even paler.
She looked up at Li Xin, the corners of her mouth curling into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile, though inside her mind was racing with calculations.
Ling Yue’s attitude today had surprised her; offering to help refuse singing that song was like a sliver of light cast into the darkness.
Although Mu Xi said she didn’t trust anyone, Ling Yue’s proposal still stirred a ripple within her.
But she knew very well that Miss Ye Lan’s orders were ironclad, not easily changed.
And Ling Yue—did she really have the power to stand against Miss Ye Lan?
Mu Xi wasn’t sure and dared not place her hope on a vocal teacher she had only known for a few days.
Besides, she had her own plan—a riskier but more proactive plan.
Using Li Xin’s infatuation with her was the fastest way to escape the Manor.
Thinking of this, the weight that had hung over Mu Xi’s heart lifted somewhat.
So what if she had to sing those lewd songs?
This body was already Miss Ye Lan’s plaything; she was long accustomed to being manipulated and used.
Rather than passively waiting for an unknown fate to befall her, it was better to take the initiative and grasp everything in her own hands.
She wanted to make Li Xin more infatuated with her, to turn that infatuation into the key to her escape.
As for Ling Yue’s goodwill, she could only acknowledge it for now but not fully trust it.
After all, in this Manor, trust was the most luxurious and dangerous thing.
Mu Xi raised her hand to smooth the stray hair at her temple, masking the fleeting glint in her eyes.
She had to continue playing the part of the frail, helpless pet, confusing Miss Ye Lan and Li Xin alike until the time was right.
For now, what she needed to do was to make Li Xin more willing to sacrifice and serve her.
At that moment, Li Xin looked at Mu Xi’s delicate face, the faint exhaustion tightening her heart.
The feelings she had long suppressed could no longer be held back.
Her voice carried clear worry: “Miss Mu Xi, you look very tired today. Did you practice too long?”
She asked carefully, her gaze full of concern, as if she wished she could immediately take away all Mu Xi’s fatigue.
Mu Xi leaned against the headboard, looking up at Li Xin with a gentle voice tinged with inquiry: “Li Xin… earlier, I think I saw someone in the Garden—someone very similar to… Wuhen.”
She deliberately chose this moment, when Li Xin was most attentive and least guarded, to say it—to observe Li Xin’s immediate, genuine reaction.
Li Xin’s arms stiffened slightly as she held Mu Xi, then relaxed back to normal.
Her eyes were calm as she looked at Mu Xi and replied firmly:
“Miss Mu Xi, you must have been mistaken. Wuhen is already dead. I was the one who killed her with my own hands—you saw it yourself.”
Her words were resolute, without hesitation, as if stating an indisputable fact.
Mu Xi scrutinized Li Xin’s expression, trying to catch even the slightest crack.
Li Xin’s gaze was clear and steady, her expression untroubled—as if truly unaware of anything beyond that.
Could it be that she really was mistaken?
That fleeting glimpse in the Garden might have just been a servant with a similar figure.
After all, she had seen Li Xin shoot Wuhen with her own eyes.
That bloody scene still haunted her.
“Maybe… I’m just being too sensitive.” Mu Xi murmured softly, her tone carrying a trace of uncertainty.