After My Paranoid Act to Woo My Cold Master Failed - Chapter 36

Shen Shuheng remained relentless. “Master, what exactly did you just say?” The more her Master refused to speak, the more curious she became.

Fu Xueke replied, “It was nothing. It is time for you to sleep.”

Instinct told Shen Shuheng that what her Master had just said was surely a weakness she could exploit—she simply had to find out!

“I can’t sleep. If Master doesn’t explain clearly, I won’t sleep at all.”

“If I can’t sleep, I’ll become stupid. You’ll lose a clever, quick-witted disciple and gain a total dummy instead!”

“Is that the result Master wants?”

“It definitely isn’t what you want, so you must tell me: what did you say!”

Shen Shuheng chattered on without end, noisier than a cicada in midsummer, yet she possessed not a shred of self-awareness.

Just as Shen Shuheng was about to continue, Fu Xueke reached out and gently pressed her palm against the girl’s lips. All Shen Shuheng could manage was a string of muffled, airy sounds.

“I want neither. I only want a disciple who respects her teacher and honors the Way,” Fu Xueke said indifferently.

“Furthermore, if you cannot sleep, then continue reciting your texts. That always manages to bring on sleep eventually.”

Shen Shuheng blinked and then nodded vigorously, indicating she knew her wrong and would not dare to be unruly again.

Only then did Fu Xueke withdraw her hand. A moist, cool sensation clung to her palm, which shimmered with a trace of dampness.

“Your drool,” Fu Xueke said, a faint smile rippling at the corners of her lips as she held out her hand.

Shen Shuheng lowered her eyes and took a look. The tips of her ears turned red, and she felt a bit embarrassed. “I’ll wipe it for you.”

She took her Master’s hand and pressed it against her own sleeve, slowly wiping it clean.

The lamp light flickered, some of it falling into her Master’s eyes. The warm yellow glow tinted the dark pupils into a warm tea color, looking quite different from usual.

Shen Shuheng was so busy staring at her Master that she forgot what she was doing; she was still holding her Master’s hand.

Just as Shen Shuheng’s mind was wandering at its furthest point, Fu Xueke suddenly spoke: “What are you looking at? Is there something in my eyes?”

“You’ve been staring for so long; have you discovered anything?”

Shen Shuheng suddenly snapped back to reality and boldly talked back: “I’ve discovered that Master’s heart is just like your eyes—dark and cold.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

One could not discern pleasure or anger in her Master’s voice. As soon as Shen Shuheng finished speaking, she began to feel afraid again. She really shouldn’t have; she simply couldn’t control her mouth. Every single time, it was this mouth that caused “disaster.”

“No, I was joking! Master is the best; how could you be that kind of person? It’s late, you should rest. Please, rest,” she said, patting the back of her Master’s hand.

Fu Xueke let out a small laugh and tucked her hand back under the covers.

Shen Shuheng also put her hand inside the quilt, groping around to find her Master’s hand. Once she found it, she rested her own hand atop it.

Fu Xueke neither spoke nor moved. She simply looked at Shen Shuheng for a long while before saying, “You must wake early tomorrow to practice your swordplay. Sleep now.”

Hearing this, Shen Shuheng obediently closed her eyes. “I’m sleeping, I’m sleeping already.”

Fu Xueke sighed and rubbed the girl’s fluffy head.

Although Shen Shuheng had closed her eyes, she found that her sleepiness had truly vanished. She couldn’t fall asleep.

She originally wanted to toss and turn to find a better position, but then she remembered that her Master hadn’t had a good rest in a long time. She must be exhausted; she couldn’t disturb her.

After lying there with closed eyes for a long time without success, Shen Shuheng simply opened her eyes and looked around.

The lamps in the room had long been extinguished, and darkness enveloped everything. Aside from her Master’s light breathing, only the sound of the wind and snow outside remained.

Listening to the storm while covered in a warm quilt with the most important person by her side… the thought sent a warm tide flooding through her heart, soaking it until it was soft and tender. Her entire being felt as if it were floating.

Shen Shuheng thought back to everything she had seen and heard on their journey. She had seen two women willing to die for one another, and she remembered the story the fox demon had told them. Every time she encountered matters regarding love, a feeling she couldn’t quite explain would stir in her heart.

She, too, would be willing to die for her Master. If her Master ever deceived her, she wouldn’t kill her like the fox demon did; she would only be sad by herself.

Last time, when her Master was injured in front of her, she felt a tearing pain in her heart. If possible, she would have been willing to bear an even more severe injury on her Master’s behalf.

From beginning to end, it had always been Master taking care of her. Master wasn’t as omnipotent as she had imagined; she could be hurt too, and perhaps, like her, Master occasionally felt secret bouts of sadness.

The angry words I said just now… they didn’t make Master sad, did they? No, I must apologize properly tomorrow and show her more care. I can’t always let her look after me. I wonder how her injuries are faring.

Was she so concerned for her Master because she loved her? She didn’t understand what it felt like to love someone; after all, she had never loved anyone before.

The light from the snow outside leaked in through the cracks in the window, giving the room a faint, weak glow.

Using this sliver of light, Shen Shuheng traced Fu Xueke’s silhouette in the darkness. Her eyes swept over her face hundreds of thousands of times, finally coming to rest on those thin lips.

The corners of her Master’s mouth curved upward; she must have been born with a “smiling mouth”—even when not smiling, she seemed to be. It was only because her eyes were so cold that this detail was hidden, overlooked by everyone except Shen Shuheng.

After admiring the shape of her Master’s lips, Shen Shuheng thought of their color and texture—pale pink and soft to the touch.

She unconsciously swallowed. Her Master’s lips were actually quite nice to kiss—this was something she knew from the time she had accidentally kissed her before. Now, she wanted to kiss those lips again.

That time, there were other people around, and she had been filled with shame, so she hadn’t properly experienced the sensation.

Maybe I should try again, just this once.

She looked cautiously at her Master’s eyes, confirming they were closed. Her Master’s eyes were very clear; even in the dark, they would catch a bit of light.

Since she’s asleep, I shouldn’t be caught, right? I’m only doing this to verify some things in my heart. This isn’t some wicked act of betraying one’s teacher.

Shen Shuheng let out a soft breath; in the silence, the sound was exceptionally clear.

She carefully moved her head, touching her lips to her Master’s mouth, then pulled away instantly like someone terrified of being discovered.

It was too fast—truly just a “dragonfly skimming the water.” She hadn’t felt a thing.

Maybe… one more time.

She pressed against them again. This time, Shen Shuheng grew bolder, having convinced herself that her Master was definitely asleep.

She savored the cool softness against her lips. Her Master’s gentle breath brushed against her face, feeling slightly ticklish, but she didn’t dare make any large movements. If her Master woke up, what would she do?

If she said she was just curious about the sensation of her lips, would her Master believe her? She wouldn’t even believe it herself, let alone her Master.

This kiss was very different from the last. Her heart was pounding much harder than before, sending waves of numbing, electric tingles through her.

The sound of her heartbeat was like the sudden strike of a drum, as if ten thousand raindrops were pitter-pattering against the drum skin, thundering in her ears.

Shen Shuheng felt as if the drumbeats were slowly shaking away the things blocking her heart—things that were very important to her, though she didn’t know why. But she hoped the drumbeats would clear all obstacles and allow that hidden thing to see the light of day.

She tried closing her eyes, using her heart to comprehend and discover what it was. But how could an invisible thing manifest itself?

Gradually, she grew anxious, unable to figure it out.

Suddenly, a memory of her Master’s finger resting over her heart flashed before her eyes.

Her Master had placed a finger over her heart and said, “It is beating very fast.”

At that time, she had asked her Master why her heart was beating so quickly—so fast she couldn’t stop it, as if it no longer belonged to her.

Her Master had replied, “You will understand soon.”

Understand what? That was the key. If she knew that, perhaps the questions in her heart would be solved.

It was affection. It was love. She finally understood.

Yet, she couldn’t feel happy. She remembered that same time, when she had placed her hand over her Master’s heart, her fingertips had felt no such intense pounding. It was the exact opposite of her own situation.

Could it be… that I like Master, but Master doesn’t like me? That for her, it is merely the bond between teacher and disciple?

At this thought, waves of sour, bitter water suddenly surged in her heart, wilting it. It was no longer as nimble as before; soaked in this bitterness, it swelled and felt heavy, gasping for air against her ribs.

Shen Shuheng now felt a shared pain with the fox demon she had met. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back—that taste was truly hard to bear.

Her bright eyes dimmed. The sour sensation flowed from her heart to her entire body. Her eyes and nose began to sting—a feeling she had never experienced.

But she couldn’t cry. If she made a sound and woke her Master, what would happen? Her Master was injured because of her; she couldn’t let her lose her peaceful sleep as well.

Besides, there was nothing to cry about. She had to be strong; she couldn’t let the tears fall.

Whoosh, whoosh. The wind howled miserably across the icy world, reaching Shen Shuheng’s ears. She felt a profound sense of desolation, finding the sound of the wind piteous—always blowing alone in the ice and snow, unable to find a place to rest.

She sucked in a breath of cold air, trying to control the tears that were threatening to overflow.

“Are you having a nightmare?” Fu Xueke suddenly opened her eyes.

Shen Shuheng immediately squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t dare answer her Master now. When she didn’t understand certain things, she could act recklessly, but everything was different now. She couldn’t be the same as before.

Fu Xueke lowered her voice. “If you’re having a nightmare, why didn’t you wake me?”

Shen Shuheng still said nothing, keeping her eyes tightly shut, trying to hold back the tears that were about to burst through the dam.

“Are you still trapped in the dream?” Fu Xueke gently pulled her disciple into her arms, slowly patting her back.

The familiar, crisp, and cold fragrance enveloped Shen Shuheng as her face pressed into that soft embrace. Finally, she could no longer control it. The tears suddenly smashed through the embankment she had worked so hard to build, flowing from her eyes, sliding down her chin, and finally being absorbed by her Master’s clothes.

She suddenly felt so aggrieved. She liked her Master—why didn’t her Master like her back?

“What did you dream about to make you cry so hard?”

Her Master’s voice arrived like a spring breeze. In the past, she loved it most when she spoke like this, but now the voice only made her feel even more miserable.

She couldn’t answer her.